#and now it feeds my delusions so it is extra good

[samipekoe]

ive been rereading n thought of u w this scene <3

I cannot tell u how hard I laughed the first time I saw this panel bc of senshi's face. It kills me

[wintersera]

ever so loving leader

succubus! fem reader x aespa karina

summary: succubus!reader needing to relieve her hunger/lust by having some silly fun times 😊 (SEX) with her beloved leader.

notes: it didn’t mean to come out this late 😭 but i was pretty busy because of my vacation. anyways here it is.

cw: SMUT, mentions of aphrodisiac, oral (giving/receiving), strap karina? (uses of the word cock as strap), face riding, thigh riding, scissoring, pussy slaps 🤭, use of toys, mostly sub reader, mostly dom karina.

word count: 3.3k

before you had debuted in aespa, being a trainee under sm entertainment made feeding easy. with many impressionable, desperate, stressed, and touch-deprived trainees around the same age, as you were, access to feeding came easy. but in your current situation you couldn’t do that unless you were looking for a huge scandal to hit you.

it's due time for succubus feeding in the dorms. as close as you are with the members of your group, none of them know your true succubus identity, and thats for a good reason. unfortunately, it's daytime and you're feeling extra hungry today. you know you can’t go outside to feed you know… feeding requires you to have sex with someone, anyone, and you know that dispatch would surely be targeting your ass as soon as you step outside of the apartment you and your members live in. you wander around the dorm feeling groggy and extremely horny, but continue your pace around the dorms thinking about what the actual hell you should do about the situation. silence washes over the dorm as you think of anything to help you relieve your hunger. who would be willing to help you currently

hmm, it’s not like the manager would be willing to fuck me… and looking for someone in broad daylight would be downright stupid. what the fuck am i thinking about…

you pause for a minute, hearing the door lock behind you sensing a pair of eyes at the back of your head. you turn around and you’re met with a taller figure standing a few centimetres behind you.

“unnie? you came back quite early” oh… this is NOT GOOD FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK? FUCK???

karina, who had just come back from the gym, was standing at the door frame with her tight fitting gym clothes on. hair tied up loosely exposing her neck in the hottest way possible. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about all the things she could do to you right now. thoughts like this would often occur, your mind having the tendency to drift into delusions about her dragging you to the nearest empty practice room to simply fuck the ever living shit out of you during rehearsal with the others. it made you feel sort of guilty, but surely she felt the same as you? i mean, you’d often catch her taking quick glances at you whenever you’d practice the choreography for your songs, but maybe that's just the leader in her. you always knew she had sharp eyes so maybe it was just your perverse brain that made you think that’s staring at you with lust in her eyes, but maybe that’s not the case. it’s not like you can help thinking about it anyway, you're a succubus.

as you’re reminded of your hunger growing, the need you have for the taller girl grows too strong for you to control. you have an idea, not so much a good one but oh well, you’d rather do this than suffer effects from not feeding, even if it means that your relationship with your leader would be a tad bit awkward maybe even broken with the way your thinking… whatever you’re hungry. gears turning, almost audibly, in your head. how would you convince your ever so loving leader to help you? disregarding your rationality you shoot a quick glance at your leader pulling her hand sliding it under your shirt. your unexpected action confusing the absolute hell out of her.

“rina…” a desperate sigh falling from your lips. “i know- maybe this is too much to ask of you, but can you please help me?”

a deep red decorates her cheeks, words fumbling out of her mouth. poor karina is left so confused. “what exactly do you mean by help, y/nie?” ignoring your obvious intentions ,she asks, concern laced in her tone. “what do you need? are you feeling alright? you’ve been pacing around the room for- quite a while now”you find her genuine concern for you endearing and somewhat… arousing- lost in thought. the word ‘help’ clanging through her head. trying her best as your leader, she doesn’t know what to do. sticking with her coherency would be best but you’re in desperate need of help right? it’s not like she can deny her youngest member.

“oh just… well… karina please just have sex with me? please?” the shock on her face as you say that? humorous, of course, cute as well. you’d be surprised at how red a person can get. already blushing profusely, her entire face flushes brighter than before it’s honestly so arousing seeing your leader all worked up.

looking attentively at your meek figure. her breath hitches, followed by a quiet gulp. the thought of ‘helping’ you intrigues her and to your surprise she obliges without hesitation. guiding you to the single room she occupies, secretly thanking god she doesn’t room with the other girls. the air is thick. rather than awkward, the room is filled with tension. you and her standing there in a room without any word or noise, for a split second you swear you could see maths equations scattered around her head. she takes a deep breath, relaxes herself and cups your cheek in one swift move.

“y/nie? Are you sure this is what you want?” how could she be so sweet? after the vulgarity, and especially abruptness, of your words and thoughts. all you could do is just stare her in the eyes and nod your head slowly. this is exactly what you want. before you is your leader, someone you adore, look up to and love so much. someone you’ve spent countless hours and days with, training and practicing together from dusk till dawn and now you’re here, so close to each other, inches away from kissing. the warmth of her breath hitting your lips. nothing apart from sex banging in your mind you take your hand and place it on the hand shes using to cup your face. letting yourself fall onto her bed, dragging her with you. hovering over you her expression plastered in what seems like arousal. well you’re not sure since its dark but the way she stares at you gives you the ‘okay’ so you, once again, drag her, but this time by the neck, forcefully smashing your lips together. messy wet sounds coming from both of your mouths as your kisses become heated. grasping at her neck whilst she’s breathing heavily as she kisses you as if she’s intoxicated off of your presence alone. as if it wasn’t enough she blesses you with her touch, feeling up and down your sides drawing shapes into your burning skin. it felt like your whole body was laced in aphrodisiac, feeling this good from just a simple kiss was simply crazy to you but it was so so long since you last did this with someone you admired, possibly even loved. why does this feel so good? although flushed at her own explicit actions she proceeds her attack on your body, her hands leaving the warmth of your cheek, undoing your bra with one hand and lifting up your shirt exposing you chest to the cold air, eyes gleaming at the sight of your bare breasts in front of her only a few centimetres away from her hands.

“am i allowed to go further?” innocently asking as if she wasn’t the one to lift up your shirt. wanting to do nothing but pleasure you in this moment she licks her lips waiting for your approval. gazing at her figure you nod your head, too excited to even speak up for yourself. she proceeds carefully, resting one palm caressing and fondling your skin sending electricity coursing through your system while the other hand pinches and twists at your nipple. parting her lips once more she lets you into her, desperate moans escaping her pretty lips again. the noises she makes filling your body with pure bliss, who would know that a simple passionate kiss from her could fill up your insatiable hunger for sex.

holding you under the shoulders making you straddle on top of her thighs parting your legs, core meeting the skin of her thigh. you bite down on your lip, lowering yourself slowly until theres enough pressure against your clit. steadying yourself by holding one of her shoulders and the other hand stabilising yourself on her bedsheet. she continues to kiss your lips, feeling her passion through each move, parting her mouth, biting the bottom of your lip and feeling her tongue search around the insides of your mouth. breath catching in your throat, you move back and forth rocking your hips rhythmically into her.

“does.. does this feel good?” suddenly breaking the kiss, your eyes already adjusted to the darkness you gaze at her dazed face, eyes half lidded as she’s panting heavily ,arousal apparent in her appearance. you take note of her disheveled hair, strands falling out of the once loose ponytail she had just a few minutes ago.

“it- it feels so good” closing your eyes as you let the pleasure course through your body. pushing yourself further into her as you grind on her harder than you were before. “feels t-too good” whimpering and stuttering out the words. observing the way you sway on her as you pleasure yourself she lends a helpful hand moving one hand from your breast and onto your hips allowing her to direct your grinding on her leg.

“move like this” she instructs, guiding your hips in a circular motion. you whine at the sensation, feeling the friction on your clothed clit even better than when she wasn’t holding you close. calling your name out breathlessly “y/n-” enjoying the way you writhe under her touch “you’re so cute you know that right?” unable to speak, you nod your head again. why does it feel so fucking good? writhing and shaking under her from the simplest of things, words, touches, motions. she’s so unbelievably attractive words cannot describe how badly you want her to take full control of you in this moment.

“you know what would feel even better” her voice ever so slightly trembling, looking at her with curiosity “let me do this for you” with haste she moves your panties aside letting your wetness spread across her milky white thighs. overwhelmed by the rawness of your clit pressing against your leaders thigh, a tightness in your stomach forms. throwing your head back, mouth slacked open as you grip onto her shirt biting down on your bottom lip, ensuring that you wont scream her name out loud. your pace begins to hasten, hips thrusting harder and harder into her, her fingers digging into your plush skin helping you ride.

“karina- gonna cum” you feel your inevitable high getting closer. upon hearing this karina grabs your hips harder pressing you closer into her. the sounds of your wet cunt and your guttural moans echoing through the dorm reverberating back into your head. feeling your climax rush through your body, you launch yourself into the crook of karina's neck biting down hard on her shoulder, muffled cries ripping out from your throat as your legs twitch from the intensity of your orgasm. moving your hips in lazy circles, karina kisses the top of your head riding out your high. “fuck that felt so good unnie” you comment as she adjusts you and herself so that you’re now sitting in front of eachother.

oddly enough she stares at you, not saying a word. snapping out of your high you panic “wait fuck, are you okay? was i being too needy oh my god i’m so sorry” you say frantically realising that you’re hunger caused you to act out in a horny daze, even though you still are. the latter finding it difficult to formulate a sentence until she coughs and speaks up.

“no it’s not that, don’t worry about that it’s just….” a hand scratching the back of her neck, words trailing off as if there’s something on her mind “your eyes are kinda glowing pink? i don’t know… and you have a tail?”

“OH, that?” you forgot to explain to her. congrats you idiot.

“what do you mean that?”

“i should’ve told you a while ago but i’m a succubus” tilting her head in confusion the idol lost in thought. “it’s like a um.. sex demon kinda thing. it’s hard to explain but i swear it’s nothing horrible. like i won’t curse you or anything please don’t worry. i just need to do this every so often and i’ll be fine” you explain the intricacies of what exactly a succubus is to her, seeing how she reacts to how explicit some things can get, piques her interests. she subtly grins, a few thoughts running across her mind.

already having sex with you she’s gained some confidence in her actions, although still somewhat shy about it “can i ask you for a favour in that case?” still as polite as ever. “ride my face.. please?” breathlessly whispering out her fantasy.

karina shuffles herself onto her back giving you a sweet smile as she beckons you towards her face, tapping the tip of her lips signalling for you to place your pussy in her mouth. sitting up from where you were you shuffle over to her, steadying yourself with you arms you hover over her. feeling the same pair of eyes scan over your practically dripping pussy. your leader wrapping her arms around your thighs pulling you eagerly onto her tongue, licking long strips from your folds to your clit.

“oh god fuck- feels good“ the sudden pleasure making you topple over. you place a hand on her head, entangling her hair, while the other hand steadies your body on the headboard in front of you. grinding on her face like you grinded on her thighs previously, speedily trying to reach you climax again. unknown to you she uses her free hand, snaking its way across your hips to your hole, wetness assisting her entry into your cunt whilst she hurriedly sucks on your hard nub. pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy, she groans at how wet you are.

“mmmfgh, so wet for me, so good” muffled praises creating low vibrations on your clit sending you into ecstasy. her praise making you feel warm but undeniably crazy. already feeling your high coming again you grab her hair forcing her to stay where she is, shouting and screaming for her not to stop and to stay in the exact position her head is located. you continue to fiercely fuck her face, karinas tongue messily licking as she pounds your pussy with fervor. close, oh you’re so so close to cumming every inch of you body being engulfed with immense pleasure. with teary eyes, a few tears falling down. you cum hard, screaming and gripping on the headboard like your life depends on it. exhausted, you drop next to her on the bed, chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.

still, your appetite is still there. mind only now focusing on having the same exact orgasm multiple times you turn your head to whisper in her ear “karina…please ruin me” commanding her to destroy you. swallowing her breath she gets up and walks to her dresser where she takes out her strap. wait when did she have a strap? and why does she have one??? not that you really care anyways but when did this happen? taking off her clothes leaving her completely naked she adjusts the straps around her legs you almost drooling at the way it looks on her. her black strap complementing her black hair exuding an lustrous aura around her although juxtaposed by her current bashful nature.

she looks too good to just let her stand there, so you sit up from the bed and kneel before her grasping the shaft of her cock. “let me return the favour” opening your mouth wide, letting her cock enter your mouth. of course, she doesn’t really feel it but the image of you on your knees sucking her off turns her on badly. at most you could call it phantom pleasure. gripping your head she pushes you closer to her hips making you gag around the plastic.

satisfied with your job, you return back to the bed waiting patiently for her to fill your cunt up a, happy grin plastered on your fucked out face. crawling over to you ,she comfortably makes her way in between your legs hooking both of them around her waist, teasing the tip of her cock at your entrance you wince at the coldness of it. first off she starts out slow, dragged out thrusts and sloppy kisses leaving countless hickeys on your neck. finally picking up her speed she pounds into you hard, wet sounds escaping from both her mouth and the friction between the two of you. “you’re taking me so so good y/n, fuck-“ gripping your waist again she takes one hand off, slapping your pussy, mewls and tiny squeels coming out each time she slaps you. on the verge of cumming once more she decides to take it up a notch, fetching a rogue vibrator and pressing it against your clit. it’s like at this moment she’s done a complete 180°

“FUCK? ah- karina it fee-“ cutting your words off your mind goes blank, again, orgasm ripping through you like crazy but she doesn’t stop there. still pounding into your abused cunt she fucks non stop. your nails digging into her back screaming and crying for her to calm down for just a second but she still continues. unable to process another mind fucking orgasm your jaw is left wide open, eyes rolled back, back arching, nails dragging down her back leaving red streaks. incoherent sentences rolling off your tongue, only things decipherable being curses and praise.

fucked out of your mind you stare at her shadowy form. returning from wherever the hell that orgasm sent you, you reach out for her. feeling guilty for all the hard work she’s done from fucking you good, you might as well help her get off. watching as she takes off her strap you flip her over as soon as it slides off her. with your new found energy, you take her leg and throw it over your shoulder immediately connecting both of your cunts together.

returning back to her bashful nature she covers her face with one of her arms whilst her other hand reaches for the sheets. knuckles turning white from gripping on tightly , her pretty tits bouncing from each thrust. pulling her thigh closer to your body you grind slowly on her, clits hitting each other perfectly sending waves of pleasure.“p-please go faster, y/n…” crying out at the slow pace you were going at. desperate for more she raises her hips higher in an attempt to earn more friction. wanting to give her a reward for helping you as you indulge in her request, grinding on faster. the burning stimulation driving you both crazy, you knew she was going to cum her thighs already trembling from her long awaited orgasm. the climax taking over her whole entire body, legs spasming as tears drop from her eye. spilling various amounts of thank you’s accompanied by her pitched moans still unconsciously bucking her hips into yours sending you into your final orgasm.

licking your lips full from the energy you gained (or drained 🤭) from her, you collapse on top of her giggling. “jesus christ i didn’t know you had it in you unnie, maybe next time i’m hungry you can help me out again?” you say as you lie down next to her, panting heavily.

“anything for you, y/n. just make sure the other members know about your identity so they can be prepared” ah… what is she implying?

[velocesainz]

Le reali

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

summary: Carlos hasn't publicly dated anyone in over 3 years and people get suspicious. He tries to tell his friends that he's dating the heiress of Italy but they don't believe him until a special moment.

Warnings: None, cursing?, fluffy

Pairing: Carlos x Italian!princess!reader

Carlos showed the entire text chain to y/n and as she scrolled through the responses bursted into laughter at lando's response to Carlos.

"Love, I wasn't pissed. I was just annoyed that he was feeding into rumours. Poor Lando must've been scared out of his wits" y/n told Carlos.

Carlos chuckled "Lando deserves to be scared out of his wits from time to time darling. How else would he function effectively and not spill our secret in front of the entire world?" he told y/n

"I guess you're right" y/n laughed.

"Amore?" Carlos called out to y/n

"Si, Corázon?" Y/n replied adjusting in the bed to meet his eye.

"Do you ever want to go public? I mean I'm not forcing you to go public, just asking. We've been together for 3 years now" Carlos asked with a thoughtful and soft expression on his face.

"Of course Corázon, I would love to. Do you want to maybe go public on the day of the Monza GP? I've already gotten an invite and will be giving out the trophies" y/n replied with a soft smile.

"That would be absolutely wonderful amore" Carlos said softly and held her close.

Timeskip:

"Ready to go sis?" y/n's brother asked her as it was time to leave for the GP

She was only going to go for the race day otherwise it would seem suspicious to the public and they wanted to be extra careful.

"Yea yeah let's go" Y/n called out grabbing her brothers hand and getting into the car.

She was more than ready to reveal to the world her relationship with the love of her life

Meanwhile: (Carlos Pov)

"Mate is your girlfriend ever going to come or are you just pranking us all?" Charles asked me while everyone was waiting around in the paddock for y/n to come.

"Yea mate, no shame in saying you haven't been able to get girls for the past 3 years. At least don't live in the delusion that the direct heir to the Italian throne is your girlfriend."

Nobody believed me except Lando since he's met her but everyone thinks me and him are pranking them together.

I would get my sweet sweet revenge.

But deep down I was scared. I was planning to propose to her soon. If I got on the podium today, I would propose and I've never been more scared for a race in my life.

Her entire family would watch me race for their country and would also find out about our relationship because she was very private and didn't share even with her family. Would they approve of me? Would they force me and her to break up?

Just then her family walked into the paddock and everyone immediately stood up and greeted the family but she was not in sight.

"So Prince b/n how do you feel about your sister dating our friend over here?" Fernando asked her brother and dragged me into his view

"Dating? I wasn't aware that my sister was dating anyone. That too with a commoner? Not expected." Her brother replied and my heart slowly sank to my stomach.

The rest of the grid came up to me.

"See Carlos? How would you be dating Prince y/b/n's sister without him knowing? Stop living in your delusion" Max said

"Mate such delusion isn't good for you at all. You should start seeing the team therapist a little more" Charles added.

The rest of the grid exchanged glances of amusement and worry while Lando came over to me.

"Don't worry Carlos, I believe you. Don't listen to them. You and Y/n have a beautiful relationship and she told me that she didn't want to inform her brother of her relationship status since she, frankly, hates him" Lando told me and I felt slightly better.

but her brother didn't approve of me, why would the rest of her family? I was internally panicking when Y/n's father King f/n came up to me and took me aside

"So you're the lad dating my daughter huh?" He asked me

"Si señor, I love Y/n with all my heart" I responded slightly nervous about his response

"She made a good choice, how long have you both been together? She didn't give me many details" He asked

"We've been together for 3 years senor. We met when I was invited to the royal house for my medal" I replied feeling better that at least her father approved of us

"And no proposal?" He said with a smirk on his face

"I was planning on proposing to her if I get on the podium for the race today and also wanted your blessings señor" I answered

"Good good. I've seen that she's been much happier around the palace ever since she started dating you. She truly loves you and you have mine and her mother's blessing. May you both be forever happy together" with that he left as I the race was about to start.

I gave Ricciardo my ring box and gave him all the instructions before getting into the car.

After the race:

I couldn’t believe it.

I had won in Monza.

The crowd was going absolutely wild as I got out of my car and the mechanics lined up outside tapping my helmet congratulating me.

I felt like I was in a dream.

I looked over to the vip box and I saw y/n in all her glory.

The look of admiration she had and her soft smile made me fall for her all over again.

That was when I knew nothing else mattered.

It didn’t matter to me that her brother didn’t approve of our relationship. It didn’t matter to me that my friends didn’t believe my relationship.

I had her and that was all that mattered.

The podium ceremony came quickly and y/n’s brother gave out the p2 and p3 trophies.

Then came my turn and y/n walked into the podium with the most elegant red dress I’ve ever seen.

She looked absolutely ethereal and I couldn’t wait for her to be mine forever.

She handed me the trophy and I raised it over my head after which I leaned in to kiss her.

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw the scene.

I took the ring box from Ricciardo and got on one knee and I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“Y/n. You have made me the happiest person these past 3 years and it would mean the world to me if you were with me for the rest of my life. Y/n m/n l/n will you marry me?” I asked her pouring the emotions out.

“Yes Carlos! Of course I’ll marry you” she said and hugged me tight.

I slipped the ring on her finger and we kissed once again.

Timeskip:

“Hey Carlos, sorry about all the comments we passed. We really couldn’t believe that you were actually in a relationship with the princess of Italy. We apologise for our actions” Charles apologised to me on behalf of the rest of the grid

“It’s ok mate, I myself can’t believe that I bagged a literal princess” I laughed

Y/n came back to me and it was time for us to leave.

In the car y/n sat leaning her head against my shoulder

“Our wedding is going to be one of the most celebrated occasions in Italy you know? They’re going to keep it as a national holiday and it will be broadcasted live on tv for everyone to see. Are you sure you’re ok with that?” She asked me in a soft voice

“Of course amore , as long as in the end I get to be with you. I’m ready to do anything.”

A/n: hope you guys enjoyed this fic. Took me a while to come up with it. Would appreciate feedback and suggestions. Also please send me any requests you have! Kissies ✨

[ohbo-ohno]

You ever think about Soaps mohawk getting too untidy (because it can't get too long, the longer it is the better Simon can grab it and throw Johnny around with) and Simon taking him to the hair dresser? Only it's not a hair dresser but a dog beauty lounge? And the owners are not specialized on humans and they weren't expecting a human. But no one says no to Ghost so they proceed and Johnny gets a complete wash and everything. He looks really pretty after but he was so humiliated by it that he goes into the crate voluntarily to curl up and cry once they are back on base. Doesn't help that people keep commenting on how much better it looks and are asking about the address for the hair dresser.

Also, just speaking for myself here, I adore seeing people become an insane rambling mess about the things they are insane about. Doesn't even need a red string or context. So if you ever put your thoughts on Clicker training Soap online, there would be at least one avid reader just begging for those crumbs.

you just GET ME oh my god. im always torn between two soap's - soap who is so freaky and kinky that he would let ghost do literally anything to him and enjoy it, and soap is only does what ghost tells him because he's got a massive crush but he's absolutely humiliated and upset during all of it. the first feels more accurate to his character, the second is more fun to write lmao

wrote a quick drabble for this but i changed it so the groomers knew there was a person coming instead of a dog <3 it's extra humiliation if they treat johnny the same way ghost does

cw: noncon puppy play, referenced public humiliation (btw if you want more stuff in this little universe - one, two, three)

“You still poutin’?”

Johnny squeezes his eyes shut, just barely resists the urge to snap his teeth and growl. He knows that would only feed into Ghost’s goddamn delusion that he’s a fucking dog.

Jesus. His scalp still stings from the rough treatment of the barber- the groomer. The bastard had locked a muzzle over his face while Ghost held him down, and as much as he’d tried he hadn’t been able to speak through the damn thing. Speak or bite. 

He would’ve fought but… well, Ghost gave him that look before he left. That “if you don’t obey me, there’ll be hell to pay” look. And Ghost has only gotten meaner in the months they’ve been together now - the walks, the fucking house training… Soap doesn’t even want to think of what he might try next.

So Ghost had given him a look, grabbed him by the chin and said “Be good, pup. You’ll get a treat if you can behave, alright? Don’t embarrass me.” and Johnny hadn’t been brave enough to ignore him.

Fuck. Even now, it doesn’t quite feel real. His breath hitches as he remembers the strict gloves Ghost had given him to wear, how they don’t let him do anything with his fingers because they’re held so tight. He still wears them now, and the forced paw shape of his hand keeps his head fuzzy.

He wants to whine. He almost wants to cry. Mostly he wants to bite Ghost until the bastard bleeds.

“C’mon,” Ghost grunts, taking one hand from the wheel and patting Johnny roughly on the head. He combs his fingers through the freshly cut mohawk, almost fixing it so it’s neater. “You look real good, pup. Needed to get your bitch strap straightened up for a while now.”

“Don’t-” Johnny takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and blinks down at his hands - his hands, not his paws - where they rest in his lap. “Don’t call it that.”

He thinks for a minute that Simon’s going to say something worse, lock his hand in Johnny’s hair and tug until he whines, shove him down to his cock, do something. But his hand stays soft, stroking down and tightly gripping the back of his neck. Not suffocating, not mean, almost… secure. Comforting. A weight that says relax, I’m here. 

“Alright, puppy. Been a tough day for you, huh? We can pretend you’re a person, think of it as a treat for bein’ good at the groomers.”

Johnny whines, curling into himself at his own sound. His hands are sweaty in the gloves, and he wants to dig his nails into his thighs, hope that the little pinpricks of pain wake him up enough to tear Ghost a new asshole. 

But he can’t do that. His fingers are stuck folded in half, totally useless. So he takes a deep breath, and tries not to fully float away.

Eventually the car slows to a stop, and Ghost tugs the key out of the ignition. They sit in silence for a moment, and Soap can feel Ghost staring at the side of his head, but he refuses to look. He doesn’t want to look at Ghost right now, doesn’t want to see his expression.

“Alright,” Simon says quietly, giving Johnny’s nape a tight squeeze before letting you go. “I think you need a nap, pup. Let’s get you inside.”

Ghost gets out, Soap doesn’t. He stays in his seat, staring at his hands, until the door opens next to him and Simon reaches over his body to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“C’mon now, out.”

Johnny doesn’t move. He feels Ghost’s massive hand wrap around his elbow, tug him toward the door, but he leans his weight the other direction.

He doesn’t want to get out of the car. He knows, logically, that no one on base will be able to tell what happened, where Simon took him. But he’ll know, and that’s enough shame to make him never want to leave the car.

Ghost sighs, annoyed, from beside him. “You rather I get your leash?”

Johnny flinches, and he lets himself be tugged by the elbow at the next pull on his arm. His eyes never lift past Ghost’s chest as he keeps his head ducked, heat coloring his cheeks when the door closes behind him.

“Johnny,” Ghost says quietly, hand nudging his head up. “Head up, pup. You look real pretty, don’t you want to show off?”

Johnny flinches, but he lifts his head like Ghost urges. He’s scared of what he’ll see in Simon’s eyes - that gleam he gets when Johnny’s particularly humiliated is always hard to swallow - but all he sees is… is pride.

God, it’s getting hard to breathe. Every breath feels punched out of him, every breath in like glass in his lungs. 

“There you are.” Ghost chucks him under the chin, jerking his head up a little further. “Pretty thing. Certainly got my money’s worth.”

Johnny’s only comfort is that his eyes are dry - well, that and the warmth of Ghost’s hand. No matter how angry he is at the bastard, he can’t help but always want more of his touch.

“Inside now. Come.”

The sharp tone, the one word command, goes right over Johnny’s head. He follows Ghost - on his right, one step behind, like he’d been taught (trained) - and keeps his eyes forward, not looking at anyone else on base.

The halls are busy, like they always are during the day, but Soap doesn’t let himself be distracted. He keeps his eyes forward, and only focuses on Ghost.

He tells himself no one else knows, that no one else could possibly know.

“Hey, Soap!” Gaz calls out, leaning out of a meeting room and waving at him. “Looking sharp, mate!”

Johnny’s heart feels like it’s about the beat out of his chest. He wants to scream. He wants to puke.

He looks up at Ghost where the other man has turned around, raising an eyebrow at where he’s stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Johnny opens his mouth to speak, but only manages a quiet whine. Thankfully it’s too loud for anyone else in the hallway to hear (hopefully), but his cheeks still flush red at the animal sound.

Ghost only smirks and turns around to keep walking.

“Heel, Johnny. Don’t wander, you can sniff all you want later.”

Johnny takes a deep breath, and he follows Ghost.

It only takes a few more minutes for them to make it to Ghost’s room, and Johnny feels near collapse.

He’s… frustrated with himself. He’s got no idea why he’s so affected by what happened, why it feels so impossible to get past. Ghost has done worse to him, made him do worse. 

But something about the way the groomer had looked at him… a complete stranger, looking at him and treating him the same way Ghost does. He knows that if Ghost had left, he would’ve sunk into a panic attack. He knows it’s Simon’s own twisted version of mercy, not leaving him alone.

The relief he feels when the door closes behind him nearly sends him to his knees. Ghost’s heavy hand on his shoulder does.

He doesn’t even have it in him to be upset at Ghost’s presumption. He feels better on his knees these days, anyway.

“To your crate, puppy, go on.”

He listens, crawling to the quilt-covered crate in the corner of the room. Neither of them speak as Ghost opens the door, the only sound a soft hum when Johnny crawls in.

“Gimme your paw, pup. Don’t want you sleeping in those gloves.”

Johnny whines, but listens, and gives Ghost his paw to take the gloves off. He instantly feels better, and makes a soft sound that he hopes is thankful as he stretches his fingers out, laying them flat against the blankets.

“There ya go,” Ghost hums, closing the door and laying the quilt over all but the front of the crate. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours, alright pup? Don’t want you to miss your walk.”

Johnny shudders as Ghost walks away, and closes his eyes tight. He tries to wipe all memories of the day away, focusing instead on the better times with Ghost.

Eventually he drifts off to thoughts of laying together while watching a football game, shared meals in loud pubs, quiet nights in after hard missions. He thinks of Ghost, strong and solid and unfaltering, and he sinks into sleep.

[triglycercule]

wahhh wahhh triglycercule post more NON jk fashion au related content i whisper as i post this. double post today because i genuinely love jk!dream and also if i dont post the dreamtale twins together i will actually die! you might consider her crazy way of somehow getting into trouble a form of bad luck but i see it as more of a being too pure for the world meeting a world that's not all that great. jk!dream lives up to her name she is a idyllic dream

valedictorian. practically a million extra curriculars. she can sing she can dance she can cook she can do advanced math she can fix a car jk!dream is everything jk!nightmare isn't (a loser). the types of trouble she gets into though aren't manmade (like some guy trying to rob her) but instead are naturally occurring. like one day the dreamtale household washing machine explodes because dream used it and coincidentally it was because it was faulty or something like that. really really crazy coincidences

nightmare is a fighting force in keeping her little sister alive i swear to god. she has to monitor dream a lot and when she can't she gets one of the mtt to do it for her. because if she doesn't there is bound to be something that hurts her. and because jk!nightmare is an absolute fucking loser who's stupid she came up with the genius idea of roleplaying a bigger issue than the one that dream's about to encounter (because then she gets to keep her safe and also feed into her pretend villian persona). like for example with the washing machine thing earlier nightmare would probably distract dream with some sort of evil monologue and then put her own load in the washer before she could. that way it won't FUCKING EXPLODE (comments from currently existing jk fashion au sanses :3)

"ah, my younger kin, dream. quite an enigma she is. on one hand, she's the epitome of perfection. even i can admit that, for she's loved by our school, family, and i. but of course, like all aside from i, she has her faults."

"for example, last week, our bloodline was strolling around the kingdom on the search for a new mirror of truth, as the one in our castle bathhouse had shattered. how did that happen? uh, i might've maybe... i shall maintain secrecy."

"returning to the point, dearest dream had almost lost herself in the shopping district, claiming she had seen a lost puppy in a mirror that she wanted to help. a chivalrous reason indeed, but my, dream can be quite... foolish sometimes. nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, and our bond has never been closer."

they still love eachother in this universe because there was no corruption thing. also nightmare's bullies were just other elementary school kids in this au so it wasn't like fully grown adults vs a 6 year old at least. she's recovered from it (somewhat) and doesn't blame dream. dream's too perfect for anybody to hate her. dream supports nightmare's delusion and nightmare keeps her alive. equivalent exchange (dream has no idea nm is doing this. ok now the mtt‼️

"oh. my. god. dream? like, dream dream? she's literally my idol, i love her so much! i'm the 7th member of her fanclub out of like, the entire school, which is like 300-ish students! she's cute, and pretty, and she gets this a lot, but her voice is literally like an angel's~ i've never heard what a hymn sounds like, but it probably sounds like dream's voice. and no matter how much i search up online, i can never find any dirt on her too! she's got a perfect online footprint! huh? why was i searching dream up? eh... haha... let's move on~"

"dream? she's really cool. there's a reason she's part of the star students at this school, along with swap and ink. nobody really knows what it takes for someone to become a "star student" though. none of the students know, none of the teachers either. apparently it's a title given to a student specifically from the principal? still, dream probably deserves it though. she's good enough to win a nobel prize. one day she's gonna cure cancer or something."

"oh, dream? that girl with the angel halo crown thing? yeah, i know her. she volunteers at the dog park i bring my dog to, the bakery i go to get snacks, the local art museum, the ice cream shop during summers, nightmare's gang, the... car dealership? wait, hold on. how many volunteer opportunities is this girl doing? is she not getting paid? that has to be illegal. or at least some form of monster rights violation..."

both of the jk!au dreamtale twins are soooo silly i love them. the more and more i elaborate on jk fashion au the more i realize that this is just turning into sans aus but anime tropes but its okay i like it its funny. jk fashion au was always meant to be silly and slice of life and fluffy anyways. anyways i love her i'm literally her number one fan. i mean i AM the principal of this school aftersll,,,,,, this really was our,,, jk fahsion au. says dream at the end of the au (there is no end because this au has no lore what am i talking about

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @corinneglass and @diabolical-blue!

OC Interview

You know, I don't think I've ever done one of these for Ivander. Let's go with him!

Are you named after anyone?

"Not in particular, no. My family tends to cycle through the same old list of names, so there have been plenty of Ivanders before me, but I wasn't named after any specifically."

When was the last time you cried?

"Most nights, I can't help it. My curse puts me in a great deal of pain and when my medication wears off around midnight, I'm usually not doing great. It's nights like those that make me so awfully aware that my time is drawing to an end."

Do you have kids?

"Hell no, I'd probably forget to feed the tragic creature. I'm not putting any child through the trial that me raising them would undoubtedly ensue."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"If you have to ask, then you must be denser than you look."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

"As a detective, I'm trained to look for identifying marks. An odd tattoo, a birthmark, telltale scars from a certain trade. All can be very useful if one can remember them."

What’s your eye color?

"Blue. Most would describe them as slightly too blue to fall in the human range."

Any special talents?

"I'm good at remembering things. Who's been talking with whom, who's been clocking in late with bags under their eyes, who's been extra nervous when the time comes for a station audit - that sort of thing. Ceyrel, my partner, says I have a nose for drama, but I prefer to think that I simply like to keep tabs on my surroundings. And occasionally let other people in on my 'findings,' so to speak."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"I really couldn't say. I suppose it depends on what I'm in the mood for. If I'm with friends, scary movies are fine, but if I'm alone in my apartment, I prefer something sappy. Just don't tell Ceyrel that."

Where were you born?

"On a roof, believe it or not. I was told that my mother insisted. According to my uncle, she said it was an important tradition among her people that a baby's first sight be the sky above. In a rare show of magnanimity, my father allowed her to go through with her plan and brought up a midwife and tent to the roof of the Montane compound. And so there it happened. Apparently, it rained hard enough that no one could see the sky in the end anyways."

Do you have any pets?

"No. I can barely take care of myself - I'm not going to tie some animal to my fate. Especially not one that wants me petting it all the time."

How tall are you?

"5'8", but I walk with a stoop, so I seem shorter."

What was your favorite subject in school?

"I was never a fan of school. I did well enough and my tutors never remarked on my behavior, however, I didn't enjoy it. I suppose art, if I had to choose. I liked to paint as a boy, though I was never very good. I thought I might pick the hobby up again once I left home, but I never found the time."

What is your dream job?

"I'd say not having a job would be dreamy, but that's not true, I'd go mad with boredom. I like being a detective well enough. I have the seniority to where they don't make me go on patrol anymore, and sometimes I'll get a case that piques my interest. Really though, it's just a job. I do it, I get paid, I go home. When I joined ten years ago, I had some delusion of making the world a better place and atoning for my sins. However, the only place I ended up making better was the interior of some merchant councilmembers' homes. It's been so long that it's hard to care about such things now - that's how society works and there's no use fighting against it. But back on topic. If I really had to choose, I'd... I'd perhaps like to work in a tailor shop. I have a keen eye for style and I think the clientele would amuse me. Unfortunately though, I couldn't string a needle to save my life, and tailors don't make detective money. More's the pity."

I'll tag @somethingclevermahogony @goodluckclove @savvyminnow @sleepywriter00 and anyone else who wants to play :)

Blank questions below the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What is the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye color? Any special talents? Scary movies or happy endings? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? How tall are you? What was your favorite subject in school? What is your dream job?

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Guess who started plagiarizing their own AU’s?

I got another fix-it with ✨angst✨ because I was thinking about how much Nero Price hates the districts for forcing him and his family into cannibalism and it made me think: “if starvation made him hate them, could it make them start to fight for them?” And then I thought about my starvation fix-it AU (featuring @spiralling-thoughts) and this was born.

Instead of the starvation happening before the games, it happens during the games, which takes place about a week or two later than it was supposed to due to rebel activity (read: Sejanus and a few good mentors fucking shit up for Gaul). The premise here is simple: these extra weeks gave the tributes the time to bond (and also none of them died because Sejanus Does Not Agree With That) and now none of them can stomach killing one another. So what’s the other option? Uhm… waiting until fate decides the victor? So once they’re finally thrown into the arena and the buzzer sounds they run into the tunnels like they did in canon (but with more kids), but the big difference is that nobody gets out. Some get a weapon just to be safe but the few kids that run into one another don’t really do anything. Think the Foxface-Katniss interaction at the start of the 74th Hunger Games. Lucky tries to get everyone hyped up every single time only to be sorely disappointed when they stare each other down only to sprint in the opposite direction mere seconds later.

At first, Gaul isn’t particularly bothered by how hilariously she’s being proven wrong because they can just starve out the tributes and surely they’ll start swinging at each other soon enough right? This might even be better than how things usually go! Except then the kids start to notice some are getting more food than others and they’re not about that. Coral sharing with Mizzen and Tanner is written off by their alliance, but then things start escalating. It starts with Lamina calling a clearly starved Wovey over and giving her all except two of her food packets. Then Lucy Gray and Jessup (who does not have rabies and neither does Reaper because Brandy (who is in the pack with Coral and Not Dead) threw the rabbid raccoon away a little further) trade their water for Sol and Hy’s food. Treech considers stealing Dill’s food and water but decides to help her consume it instead and somehow this keeps Dill from dying (Felix. The answer is Felix. He used his presidential family card to sneak antibiotics into her water bottles). Then before anyone knows it the tributes are all keeping tabs on who’s eaten what and they start rationing out so everyone gets the food they need. The older kids tells the younger ones that they’re deliberately feeding them more because growing you know? But the Capitol sure notices. When we get to day five, Gaul decides that enough is enough and orders a full stop to all sponsor gifts to try and force the tributes to start killing each other.

They do no such thing.

Instead, they start doubling down on their decision to stick this thing out together and start catching any rodents they can to feed to the youngest kids while ignoring the slowly growing hunger within them. Do those Capitol bastards really think they can get to them with starvation? Please, this is their daily jam. They’ve gotten this far, a little hunger won’t break them now. So they wait. They wait and they survive. It gets harder and harder for the older tributes, who are allowing themselves to starve for the sake of their younger companions and are slowly running out of fuel to keep going, but not once do they comply with what they know the Capitol wants from them. At some point it becomes pure shared spite more than anything.

Meanwhile, the Capitol citizens watch this go down and have their view of the world shaken up considerably. These kids know just a little too much about dealing with extreme food shortage for this to be their first rodeo. The delusion that the districts haven’t suffered as much as the Capitol did during the siege is completely shattered when the kids start sharing their best starvation cope tactics that make it clear this is a regular occurrence for them. Slowly, more and more information is shown to them as they watch the kids they saw as violent beasts be nothing but caring and kind to one another. It hits especially hard for the Price family, who spent so much time loathing the districts for their decision to resort to cannibalism only to find out that the Capitol has pushed the districts right to that edge for years. How can they call themselves better when they’ve done the exact same thing they resent the districts for? When they’ve arguably done worse because they’re punishing innocents? That last line of thinking becomes particularly unavoidable when the younger kids start taking up more screentime. Why do they do this? Because the older tributes are starting to succumb to starvation. They all look skeletal and half-dead, but the oldest tributes have given up so much food that it’s clear they can barely move. They do a good job of hiding it around the younger kids but once they’re out of sight under the guise of searching for more insects and rodents to eat they collapse and curl up to fight off the hunger pangs. When the young kids are asleep all the older ones clearly sag as their energy depletes. It reminds the Capitol citizens of how they’d hide their fatigue and physical deterioration from their kids and loved ones, desperate to hold it together, only to break down once they were alone.

When the first tribute stops being able to move, the Capitol has had enough. Perhaps Marcus, Coral, and Reaper scream their lungs out at the camera over the hypocrisy and cruelty and then mockingly asking the Capitol what they’re gonna do about this show of rebellion. This refusal to fight. Starve them? Kill them? What more can they do?! That’s the final straw. The more sympathetic citizens refuse to watch for even a second longer. They do the one thing the Capitol feared:

They rebel

Maybe they force the government to get the kids out. Maybe they get some peacekeepers on their side and storm the arena first to make sure not one more innocent life is lost. Either way, they realize that silence isn’t any better than being the monster. Seeing suffering and standing by is just as cruel as causing that suffering in the first place. If they storm the arena they bring easily digestible food and liquid calories to avoid refeeding syndrome or nausea from overeating so they can start helping the kids readjust and heal. Of course there’s a lot of distrust from the kids at first, but they’re in no position to refuse food. So they take it, and for once the oldest kids don’t mind eating first because who knows what these Capitol assholes put in it? Of course it turns out it’s not poisoned so they start to accept it a little more openly while the politics are handed and arrangements are made to get the kids back home. Gaul tries to stop this, but nobody listens to her anymore. Her lab’s destroyed under “mysterious circumstances” and as her career comes to a fiery end, she herself does too. When legal repercussions for her heinous actions is threatened by the parents of several academy students she endangered, she attempts to flee the country. What chance of winning does she have when one of the litigants is President Ravinstill himself??? Felix was a little upset about Dill’s pain and he wasn’t about to let it slide but since persecuting her for the hunger games wouldn’t work due to law changes not working retroactively this was the next best thing. Either way, certain people (the mentors) caught wind of the fact that this vile monster of a woman was trying to escape the consequences of her actions and they decided to remain one step ahead by becoming the mysterious circumstances credited with her disappearance. By which I mean she came to a slow death in her home. Possibly through invisible toxic gas, possibly through burning to death, possibly through her own predator muttations given her scent to hunt down. Who knows? Better question is who cares? The mentors have become closer to their tributes and their friendships last well beyond the fixing of all the problems in this mess of a country and all’s well that ends well.

[verdemoun]

So I have a new idea for a hypothetical ask. All the parental figures/old folks meeting up. Hosea, Bessie, Darraugh, Hamish, Lenny’s dad That’s mentioned in his letter possibly, Grimshaw, Dutch and the less parental Strauss, and Uncle

I would love them to just get to hang out together and in some cases away from the rest of the gang’s shenanigans (c’mon let Hamish and Hosea and Darraugh have there own shenanigans!!!) Plus I am a sucker for any hypothetical Hamish content and Hosea and Grimshaw are two of my favorite gang members :>

this made me laugh hypothetical au where the known parents of the gang turn up for no reason and get into antics

it feels like an intervention with darragh, mr summers, the duffys and later grimshaw and bessie all chiming up to yell at dutch and hosea What the everloving FUCK did you do to our boys. look at them. they have anxiety.

dutch tries to defend himself and hosea has to give him the shut up look because his talk of ideals immediately backfires when mr summers points out they left lenny to die alone.

the parents magically know what happened in rdr2. darragh and mr summers are instant best friends and are taking turns holding each other back from punching dutch in the face. mammy duffy does land a punch before her husband catches her

dutch and beatrice morgan get along a little too well and hosea is suddenly very thankful they never met because they both have that extra bit of neurological spice in the same direction. maybe it's schizophrenia, maybe it's unspecified delusions of grandeur but they both speak in pretty language that isn't entirely grounded in reality and very much feed that energy in each other.

lyle morgan pipes up about not being surprised arthur turned out to be a killer because there was always something wrong with that kid and hosea beats him with a chair. hamish stops hosea only to take the chair himself and join in. fuck lyle morgan

uncle only turned up to eat popcorn and watch williamson sr and marston sr both drink themselves stupid and then was so mildly infuriated by the display he decided fuck you they're my kids now. tell me uncle isn't the closest thing bill has to a positive male figure in his life in rdr2.

micah bell the second is annoyed at how much micah has slightly improved for the better in modern era. his 'wife' who is instead very proud of her son for finally being the slightly good person she always believed he was capable of being slaps him. dutch joins in punching gross old man who raised son to be as mentally warped as micah is - and that's coming from the master gaslighter himself

in more fun stuff: hamish, hosea and pappy duffy would be fishing pals, sit in silence drinking beer sort. uncle tags along but they aren't convinced he even owns a fishing rod. hamish and hosea have brief conversations about what a good kid arthur is while on the inside they are punching the ground screaming because he has done so well for himself and they're so proud he finally got the chance to just be happy

as much as they loathe dutch for encouraging their boys to be outlaws instead of using his resources to help them rebuild their lives and actually doing good, darragh and mr summers can't stop themselves from getting into pseudo-intellectual debates with dutch and annabelle. they all have really similar ideals about common good but disagree about how it is achieved and it's very amusing to see them get animated about it

grimshaw, bessie, mrs bell, mammy duffy and hosea are also gossips and love nothing more than sitting around drinking coffee and talking about their gaggle of children. also mrs bell is so beautiful and charming everyone is trying to decode how micah was produced. they are all just sharing childhood stories like micah picking weeds to be a bouquet for his mama who he adored and arthur's fishing story and the mission of giving john a bath and you can just tell they all love their kids.

[atmymercy]

Hello lovely, Ahh I'm just to excited to write my feedback!! Well just so all you know recently I won @atmymercy monthly tarot giveawa, the topic was-"what is the connection with my future spouse like in the 5D right now?" and as always the reading was amazing and perfect leaving me speechless! She picked up on a lot of stuff that has been going on currently, and cleared my doubts as well as my anxiety..giving me a good insight of the situation and helping me out. The reading was long and detailed, the way everything made sense and resonated I wanna kiss her hands rn. Like the reading just gave me the direction i required. So what are you all waiting for take the reading now and know it too, there are lots of blockages or information that we can get about the connection with our fs in 5D, especially people who believe in spirituality it's a wonderful reading for them and i mean it. It's definitely not there to feed anyone's delusion tho but to rather guide you so that even in the physical you can connect with your fs soon, and ofcourse in the 5D make the connection stronger or build a connection. So I'd highly recommend you all getting this one (trust me i ain't biased tte reading was so accurate and reality one not something sugarcoating either it had both the aspects, positive too which made me feel more connected) thankyou so much for doing the reading for me lovely and giving my question and opportunity, it means like alot to me. Greatful-!! 🫂✨🧿

Hope you have a wonderful day/night ahead!! Sending good energy 🫶🏻🤍

hello jasmine!

oh gosh! okay! i'm going to attempt to not cry as i write this but honey, you've been such a sweetheart to me this month! i almost can't stand it but don't you dare stop! lolol your heart is just making my heart feels so much bigger! i'm so enchanted to get to do this reading for you this month because i really loved getting to pull out my cards and you gave me the perfect opportunity to do so! with the question you chose! and already i've had a handful of other people also order that question so my thanks is with you! you don't know how much i appreciate you, honey! not even this month! you've been a star for months now and i've noticed your beautiful spark and how you share it! makes me feel star-struck! thank you for sharing so much love with me!

okay! i want to thank you for the more detailed feedback you gave me as well, honey! omg! it's the reason i was crying before i even arrived to this feedback as well! you are just so sweet! which makes this reading even more sweeter that my reading could leave you feeling speechless, clear your doubts and good insight and direction! eee! that's so amazing!

i really work hard to make it clear yet realistic as you work through your love journey and that you can notice and see that extra effort i throw in makes me feel so special that you took the time to point it out and appreciate it in me! thank you so much, honey! eee! i can't wait to do another reading for you!

and remember you do have a clarifier if you need anything cleared up! i know you said you don't need it because of the reading but it's there if you need it! i feel so spoiled, knowing you said you don't even need it after my reading! i'm so glad you loved the long length of the reading too! it was so fun to just go on and on! lol

love & light!

-tea

♡ message me for details/questions & to book this reading! ♡

[hurrl]

For the ship bingo, Kalani and Corbeau even tho I already know please feed my delusions 🕺

Oh Kalani and Corbeau 😌 KALANI AND CORBEAU 😫😫

No bingo, but I have to explain them in case anyone is interested 🤭

There's just something about them that scratches the brain nice and good. Maybe it's because they're a real classic, complicated slow burn. That's just bound to happen when someone like Corbeau is thrown into the mix, this is a person who truly truly truly see's humanity as the lowest life forms. I mean, they're livestock, they're profit, they're food. How can you get from a mindset like that to romance? Not with insta-love! No, it's a delicate process that takes time ⏰️ and a whole lot of patience.

Then you take his mindset and pair it with someone like Kalani, someone who loves people and loves to love despite whatever occurred in her past. She's a captive who is chatty! Not only for self-preservation reasons (trying to gain info/get on Corbeau's good side, ect.), but because she's just a talkative person! It's her nature! Besides, Corbeau is a guy who *is* accommodating to his captives, so why wouldn't she ask for a few extra things here and there?

Kalani is always so thankful 😌 they build a small back and forth, and after a few weeks, she starts getting more privileges. In a few months, she had whole house access! And wouldn't you know it the urge to kill her has dissipated 🥳 but that doesn't mean anything. He doesn't *love* her, but he doesn't want to let go of her either. It's a graduation from livestock to housepet 🙄. They're still trying to figure each other out- Kalani trying to understand why she's there and Corbeau trying to understand if Kalani's friendly behavior is genuine- I feel like they have a lot of meaningful conversations at this time.

A few more months pass, possibly even coming up on a year since Kalani was captured. There's still a healthy distance between the two, but these two have a routine with each other. They do housework together, they can make the other laugh, Corbeau will watch Kalani dance, they're housemates! Finally, Kalani asks why she is there, thinking it was because Corbeau was lonely in some way- maybe, could it be that he wanted someone to love 😳?- but when she learns the truth (girly-pop you were gonna be dinner), she retreats.

It gets really depressing for a bit 🥴 (the good shit 👌) the house becomes quiet without Kalani's chatter, without the tap tap tap of her practicing ballet in the next room, it's like living with a ghost. For the first time ever, Kalani does feel TRAPPED. She wants to leave and live her life- because obviously there's no shot at one with Corbeau- and Corbeau may or may not pick up some heavy drinking IDK 🤷‍♂️. I do know he has a lot of feelings in there that he needs to work out!

NOW THIS IS WHERE THE STORY CAN REALLY SPLIT OFF. But my personal favorite scenario is Kalani starts to seek Corbeau out for comfort because, although he is the source of her distress, he's also the only person she has. She is climbing into his bed and sobbing into him late at night. And I know that that tugs at that boy's heart in some way, and I know HE DOESN'T GET WHY 😭😭😭. In seaching for comfort she kisses him (😏 oh the scandal) That's when she really falls for him, and she decides if he wants to eat her, that would be okay 😗💅 So she asks if he will and he says NO 🙄 (cause if he eats her she'll be GONE) so she tries again and again trying to convince him that it's a good idea and that she *wants* to be eaten, explains that she loves him and so on.

The answer is still no 😌 AND WHY IS THAT CORBEAU, HUH?? 👁👁 USE YOUR BRAIN.

But Kalani's pushy about it, her kisses become more aggressive in the hopes that he'll just bite her, get a taste of her blood, and decide that eating her would be a good idea 🍽!

ITS SO GOOD!! I LOVE A DELUSIONAL WANTS TO BE EATEN KALANI AND I LOVE THAT CORBEAU DENIES HER THAT like wow okay man, evil 😒 cruel. You can't let her go, you want love her, you won't even eat her JUST END HER ALREADY-

More stuff transpires, but this post is getting LONG.

They're so good, rolling around in my brain like two marbles that occasionally clash. IF THEY WOULD JUST COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER-

But where's the fun in that 🤭 they gotta suffer a little before they can get to the good part and it's SO WORTH IT.

[chloe--bug]

Sixteen days of winter, with nowhere to be in the morning, or normally even midday. Sitting at my desk with Kiwi for hours, drinking green tea all day, scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees, talking on the phone for the afternoon with someone I'll soon spend the next 12 hours with. I feel fortunate for the extra space between the minutes to sit within myself, to think about what I've been thinking about, and to breathe as slowly as feels right to my body. 

I think I have just been confounded by the way things have been, waking up on a couch with my shoes on and remembering how girlish I still am, taking a bite of breakfast that was cooked for me and thinking ahead to the rest of the morning but never the rest of the week. My emotions are spilling out of every part of me – I am fuller than usual, it's wild and mystifying and diverting. But it does not always feel good: much of the time, it feels like there is something bigger than me inside of me that is trying to get out but I can’t open myself wide enough to empty it. But there is something so invigorating about feeling to the kind of degree you’d feel to when you were younger, less bound to reality, less concerned with what might be, less guarded. There are times that I worry I’ll never fill up my heart like I did when I had yet to grow up, times like this remind me that isn’t true. 

I often think back to a time earlier this year, when I would walk alone on the beach and turn my thoughts over and over in my head until they grew bacteria on them and mutated into something completely different. It’s a bit of a habit I have, to run away and separate myself from the world and its flow. I found myself enamored with the idea of convincing myself of delusions that were entirely false. Both feet in the sand, breathing to the rhythm of the waves, I worried myself sick over something that never happened: a nightmare, a darker, more twisted version of reality that I invented because I thought if I could imagine the worst-case scenario before it actually happened, it would soften the blow. I neglected the healing power of the ocean in its vast, incomprehensible power – she moved towards me constantly with her dormant strength, and I kept my eyes on the stillness of the sand beneath my feet. The answer was right in front of me: turn to what is big, hold space for all of it, mirror what is powerful. I could not possibly understand this lesson at the time for I was too perplexed over a profound emptiness inside of me, a confusion about what I was supposed to be living for. I think when that feeling of void and empty approaches you should not try to fight it or fill it up… it has its own purpose, you can spend time in that space as it reveals itself to you, listen to its magic like you listen to all the rest.

There is something different about the lessons I am learning now, they are the first I am teaching myself as an adult. There’s a lot more room for error now, there isn’t anyone really supervising me. It never gets more normal, when it’s 10PM on a Tuesday and I can go wherever I want and do whatever I feel like. I feel invisible in the coffee shop, and walking down the familiar alleys of my neighborhood, but I’m not, everything I’m doing is forming and shaping me and everything I touch, but that doesn’t compute yet. I feel sometimes like I’m doing everything I can to keep me inside of myself, to stop her from shooting out into the ether, leaving the gold dust of her thoughts and ideas shimmering on the leaves of the trees and the tops of the hills. I’ve always known that there was something in me that not everyone would understand, but I didn’t feel so complete with it until recently. Now I’m older, and it no longer feels like the right decision to hold myself so tightly within my body. I sometimes sense that the earth has this hunger, and I want to feed it, I want to let my voice touch every edge of this earth. I will learn the answers after, it’s not important to me to be perfect yet.

There are always a few things left for me to decide, I know I go back and forth often, and I know the decisions will drive me crazy but it won’t change what I’ll find. To decide at all is to uncover something I’ve yet to feel, to live with that decision is to touch it all over and know its texture and the way its corners work. This morning I sat with my tea and watched the sun rise with my purring cat in my lap, knowing more than I knew a year ago or yesterday, and that was enough in that still, slow moment. I walked quietly down the hallway and felt the wood through my socks in a new way, warmer, sturdier, stronger. Maybe that was me feeling something inside of myself and not the floor, maybe this is all unfounded. As always I am trying to trust highs and lows and center myself on both feet in the moment that offers itself to me. Soon I will go back to the ocean and listen to the hypnotic murmur of the waves, I will let it all greet me and face it bravely, and there I can practice letting my soul shoot out into the clouds like fireworks.

[thatonegayship]

Hallelujah! Everybody, rise up! Bring out the serpents! The religious text! Ten percent of your worldly earnings and your best Sunday vest, we’ve been blessed beyond recognition once more by the one and only Tswwwit themself!!!!

Oh, how I wish I could pour all my feelings for this out through the ear, onto a piece of paper, or in a novel full of blank pages, and just SENT it to you. I feel like the words I come up with just don’t cut how this chapter made me feel. It’s such a lighthearted change of pace from what I’m used to! It even took me a moment after they started talking that I remembered, “Oh, this is the TRAUMATIZED Dipper, who literally JUST regained his ability to speak.” I could not be happier seeing how they’ve begun to settle in together - there’s still a ways to go, but Dipper’s LEAGUES ahead from when Bill picked him up originally. 

I know you didn’t say anything like this in the story, but I imagined Dipper’s skin having just a little more color than before, and his cute little cheeks being nice and round now that he’s eating properly. I imagine Bill pinches his cheeks PLENTY. Careful that he doesn’t haul Dipper in one day and outright GOBBLE his cutie-patootie face.

The opening scene had me SCREAMING!!! I was so confused at first. Did Bill bring Dipper to work? Is he trying to squeeze a deal out of some foolish mortal who is very clearly reading things more in his favor than they actually are? I mean, no WAY would Bill actually feed into his delusions, right? RIGHT??? Oh, no, it’s just one big super parody of ALLLL of Billdip. I cannot lie, my soul wept. Yes, yes, Dipper IS the twinkiest little twinkle who ever pranced the earth in most fanfictions, and Bill takes every opportunity he gets to pin him against a wall, or tilt his chin, or gently but threateningly squeeze his throat, leaning in and growling “now now kitten >:))) Don’t make daddy angy hehe.” LIKE AHHHHH?????? I’m being exercised by a priest after this. The fact that Dipper is getting LORE DROPS FROM A SHITTY ADAPTATION OF HIS PAST LIVES???? 

I felt that scene, “Why is this guy agreeing to this demon’s deal so easily? It doesn’t even benefit him :(.” Okay, but shut up, this is my world, and in my world, what I say goes. You’ve taken my fragile, hopeful heart and crushed it between your fingertips. Wretched. Deplorable. Some other word to save me the embarrassment of my own contribution to this horrendous trend. “Yes, YES >:D now call him a Good Boy, MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” I’m ruined. My reputation is soiled.

I love how Bill’s mood immediately brightens when he sees Dipper there. Yeah, so his day was shit, he met an over-eager fan wanting a lick at his angles, but look at the cutest human he’s ever laid eyes on, just lounging around his house like it’s no big deal! Like he’s NOT wearing his big ol’ hoodie and looking cute and cuddly watching trash television. That ABSOLUTELY makes up for the freak he just had to deal with! Oh, and I’ll bet the smell Dipper was smelling on that hoodie was Bill - the thing he said smelled *good.* Once again, association has Dipper making all the right decisions to dissolve Bill into a pink-tinted puddle sloshing around the floor chanting “CUTE CUTE CUUUUTE” in his head all day long. Does Dipper even realize how much power he holds over this demon? Nope. Sadly not.

At this point, I’m begging Dipper to figure out some of these terms. “On the Market for what?” Be so fucking for real, dude. I’m just imagining Bill leveling him with the biggest possible bombshell about sex, or relationships, or what a dick is or ANYTHING. God, even going a little more in-depth about kissing would have him curling into a tight ball with the most astounded (and curious) expression on his face. You saw him rewind that kissing scene? Hmm. Very reminiscent of when most kids realize they get a little tingle in their gut over the extra hot weather lady on channel 5. 

It’s a really fun concept to explore, imagining Dipper THIS sheltered, that all the usual stuff most people discover in their pre pubescent years, Dipper’s just now starting to uncover as an adult. He STILL doesn’t have the right idea about it. It’s just confusing feelings and random zaps and electricity through his body, feeling kind of hot, being squirmy and uncomfortable, but not unhappy. He is way, WAY behind schedule. Praying he catches up with the rest of us eventually. Mayhaps Bill can help him in his journey, cough cough.

I get that Dipper doesn’t see himself as a Big Deal, but come on, dude. You think Bill’s just loaning out magic to ANYBODY??? Get the hint! Yes, you’re special, but you’re also his Very Precious Totally Adorable Smoochie Smooch Pumpkin Pie. GRAAAAA!! JUST GET IT ALREADY!!! HE SLUNG AN ARM OVER YOUR SHOULDER!!! HE PLACED A HAND ON YOUR THIGH!!! YOU’RE DADDY’S LITTLE DISCORD KITTEN GAHHHHHHHAAAAAHHA AAA!!!!!!

Ugh, the just the WAY Dipper finally gets one up on Bill! Sure, he doesn’t have all the facts, but he DOES uncover some pretty embarrassing information on this so-called “All-powerful” demon. He quote “Can’t take over reality.” Why, you may ask? Hmm, perhaps there’s something still IN reality that wouldn’t take too kindly to being enslaved, or have the planet they love so much tampered with in a Not Safe For Work Gore Fest. Let’s not forget the pact they made all those years back ensured Bill *wouldn’t* take over reality, at least as long as Dipper stuck around - I might be remembering that last piece wrong, but I’m, like, 80% sure they argued upon those terms. 

Either way, the whole (most) reason Bill isn’t enslaving Earth, aside from not being *quite* so strong in that realm, is all thanks to OG Dipper coming in with the big save. And now Bill’s having to deal with the consequences of *loving* him, and not *wanting* to harm the place he calls him, if only to know the little brat’s not growing up in a wasteland overrun with flesh-eating parasites and man-sized bugs. Reincarnations get much trickier if there’s too low a population to reincarnate into! Oh, Bill. You really shot yourself in the foot this time.

“The thing you want. Why can’t you just - Take it?” Dipper, you are KILLING this man. I swear I was screaming at Dipper the whole time through most of this. First place, number one reigning champion for most clueless guy to ever walk the earth. I have never experienced such effective torture in my life.

Damn, Bill’s REALLY trying to corrupt this one, huh? Bringing Dipper back for his Revenge on the cult, showing all those stupid followers who’s boss, certainly his Good-Natured-Ness won’t get in the way of that. I mean SURE, they were *all* manipulated by the priest into dedicating their lives to a higher power who never actually heard them, and maybe Dipper’s more mad at the system of abuse itself than all the people it caught in the net, but still! He’s got Big Plans for all those dang worshippers, and he can’t WAIT to exact his revenge! And- and show Bill just how ruthless and cool his plans are, since HE’LL certainly be watching with bated breath. Yup! Dipper’s *totally* ready to bring down the hammer!

Can I take a minute just to say I *looooove* reading all the little sprinkles of Trauma Lore you leave for us? Does Bill know about these stripes on his back? I assume these are referring to lashes as punishment, which - yeah, religious symbolism, that tracks. Chances are Bill hasn’t been quite so lucky yet, he’ll have to wait for Dipper to finally let his guard down and strip out his hoodie - ooh la la! Then he can discover all the little scars left behind by the cult. Not so suave and sexy now, are you Bill? Don’t make Dipper insecure about his scars, he’s already giving you a peek at what’s underneath! Honestly, if lashings are a normal punishment, Dipper might not even *notice* them anymore; they’re probably more common to come across for worshippers with Rebellious histories, though Dipper is by far the worst case scenario. 

God, I’m such a fan of the scar on Dipper’s wrist being a permanent reminder of the world he left behind. Everytime he looks down and sees it, I get a little sinister. A little evil. I love these small visual details that hold greater implications, hehehe. 

Honestly, fake-Dipper cooked with this line. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.” That goes so hard. If you’re trying to parody bad fanfiction, you failed miserably. Your fingers were made to birth perfection. This rocked my world.

UGHhhh Dipper, how did you NOT get it when Bill literally just said he was waiting for someone “special” to date??? Dipper Overanalyzing Pines somehow MISSED the most obvious hint in his life, and for what? Though, this *did* throw a pretty funny line at us. Dipper’s only heard about Men Chasing Women. Oh, boy. The heteronormality is beating him over the head with a stick, it has him asking Outrageous Questions. No, Bill is NOT a girl. He is a Triangle. That’s such a funny concept to me, but also like. A really good visual illustration to conceptualize how Bill views himself and his own gender. Girl and Boy are both limiting and frankly *wrong* answers to that seemingly simple question, it makes sense that his answer would be something that’s so impossible to grasp, yet so easy to roll with. Yeah, okay. Triangle. Bill’s gender is a Triangle.

He still has a dick, though.

I want to know what was in that briefcase. Now. Urgently. Is it a special thing ordered for Dipper? :333 I would very much like a clue

It’s so funny how like, I was totally groaning and sighing and begging Bill to come back after that phonecall just for Dipper and him to have more Fun Tv Time, but the second I caught wind of a little tomfoolery brewing in Dipper’s head, I was immediately hooked again. Buckled up. Ready for anything. Don’t think I’m not about to scream in your face, because this ENTIRE scene is so very, very cursed, I hope you can’t sleep at night.

Dipper found.

A fucking butt plug.

HNGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

Stop, stop, wait, you’re telling me Bill just has that shit on his bedside table? Of course he does. Lube, handcuffs, maybe even the *sleep mask.* Nothing innocent about them, but leave it up to poor sheltered Dipper to completely miss their intended nature. I was half-expecting him to uncap that bottle of lube for a flipping taste test. Of COURSE he’s drawn to the butt plug. Freaking of course. It’s his inner voice, guiding him through past lives. I swear, that thing must’ve been made out of fucking titanium to have done the damage it did to that demon. Either that, or the buttplug was blessed during one of their many priest/alter boy roleplays, and now it constitutes as a sacramental that repels low-ranking demons. 

Rest assured, I screamed and clawed out my eyes the moment it started vibrating, and Dipper caught a felony for assault with a deadly weapon. Amazing, the bug-demon knew what it was getting battered with, but NOT Dipper. I can’t wait for him to regain his memory and look back on that. Can’t even blame Bill this time, it was his own fault for rummaging through his stuff. That’s a raunchy cocktail party story that never dies, thanks to his jackass husband always managing to bring it up when it’s most mortifying for him.

At first I was irritated with Bill for having a framed photograph of just him on the beach, but I became a giggling school girl the moment Dipper uncovered the innumerable pictures of him stored away in the back. Hopefully he didn’t tear any of them in his rush to hide them away! I have no doubt he brutally dog-earred at least a dozen. If he were anybody else, Bill’d have put him on a stick and roasted him nice and slow over a fire. Alas, the pictures were of him, in Very Cute Poses, which is. Something. Surely not *nothing.*

 Mayhaps Bill kept them for surveillance reasons, to make sure Dipper was staying in his place. But that doesn’t make much sense with the eyes all around them. If Bill was so worried about keeping him in line, all he’d have to do is trail him through a small statue or something. The pictures barely serve surveillance purposes, it doesn’t make any kind of sense. If only he were slightly more informed about literally anything, then maybe he could uncover the Very Confusing and Not Obvious At All reasons behind this weird behavior.

I’ll never get over Dipper finding comfort in things that remind him of Bill. What’s that? The scent lingering on Bill’s suits calms your beating heart to something more manageable? The Bill plushie in your arms makes you feel safe? God, I freaking eat it up every time. Never change, author. Never change.

I cackled so hard at Dipper going from “Bill, don’t kill the bug :(( Aw I feel really bad, stop,” to “End this man’s life NOW.” Dipper recognizes a nark when he sees one. No witnesses. I’m sure Bill’s very proud.

He’s SO proud, he gives him a nice, wet kiss on the forehead!! Does this count as their first kiss? Well, maybe the first kiss Bill’s landed on him, Dipper wasn’t really a participating party in the whole ordeal, though from the looks of it, he didn’t mind it either. Things are finally starting to wake up, huh buddy? What’s this electric current coursing through your body oh so insistent? Let’s not forget Bill said you LIVE here, either. Looks like you finally belong to a home that actually wants you! What’s that? Feeling a bit fuzzy in the feels? Maybe a little cozy? Does somebody feel LOVED? Oh, I do hope you know the word and understand the many implications, because Bill’s gonna smother you in it the moment you least expect it. You cannot escape the many traps laid out for you. You are prey. Prey, I tell you!

I’m not going to bring up the underwear scene, because I know that’s exactly what you want me to do. I didn’t see it. I didn’t register it. My mind went perfectly blank from start to finish and all I have in place of it is a white space with the vague outline of its treacherous spirit. You are a heartless author. Spare my soul the harsh reality you put it through even now.

Aw, Dipper having nightmares after busting that guy’s chops made me so sad :(( hasn’t our boy been through enough? Hopefully he doesn’t have PTSD from that vibrating buttplug, otherwise they’re gonna have a LOT of issues down the line, mostly pertaining to. Um. Certain reserves. But it’s great that he feels comfortable going to Bill for help! Even if it came to nothing, it’s a big step from where they started, with Dipper cowering in fear, unable to utter a word for MULTIPLE reasons, because his God was intimidating, and Stole His Speech, and would Certainly Punish Him if he stepped out of line. It’s so nice seeing how their trust has grown over the last couple of weeks; Dipper’s slowly but surely coming to realize that Bill really ISN’T responsible for all the misery in his life, and he wouldn’t just beam nightmares in his head for the fun of it. Like, that’s actually so sad. You thought *he* was sending you those spine-tingling dreams? It’s great they cleared that up.

Lord, bless Bill for having the stellar idea of stripping off his shirt in front of his awkward, sheltered amnesia husband, that was actually the best move he could’ve pulled right there. I swear, I am gnawing at my cage trying to keep things professional here, but you’re really testing my limits here, Bill being a massive slut and just sliding outta that shirt to show his defined back muscles to Dipper, his poor unsuspecting christian eyes forever tainted. Horrific. Who would do such a thing? I sincerely hope these small acts don’t create a snowball effect that makes Dipper sexually frustrated and equally-so guilt-ridden and Very Confused about what the hell he’s even feeling right now for his god, who is Not a Man, but who Does have a Dick. How does one react when there’s a sexy demon looming over him in such a comfortable and weirdly cool bed? 

*Through gritted teeth* THank GOD Bill woRe a shirt tO bed. Thank GOD.

Okay, but there’s no way Bill doesn’t know what he’s doing in that bed. Wrapping your arms around some sleepy mortal? Alright. Forgivable. But you traced patterns on his STOMACH. You pulled Dipper back against your CHEST. You did a little CHOMP next to Dipper’s EAR. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING, MAN!! Dipper needs all the rest he can get, and Bill is allowing exactly ZERO. I mean, come ON, don’t let the demons take TOO big a bite??? You’re absolutely filthy for that. Shame on you. You’d better not wake up with morning wood, or Dipper’s gonna pass out from adrenaline and/or shock. Really, what kind of husband are you?

Some of your best work thus far. You fed me so good this eve, and now I’m tubby and round and must be transported around by forklift. I sound like a broken record here, but I’m so grateful to have found your works, and to still have you produce new material after all these years. Not many people can make the same two characters feel consistently new and fresh and well developed after so many years of writing, but you’ve really made them your own. I loved this chapter so much, and I’m so excited to see how you decide to wrap things up! Much love, go pet your cats <333

Cult Part 5! Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.

“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”

His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.

“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”

“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”

Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.

“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”

Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake. 

Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.

Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.

For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.

A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.

Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move. 

So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place. 

The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.

He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.  

Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’. 

Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor. 

But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.

Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.

Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends. 

The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching. 

Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode. 

And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.

He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision. 

He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.

Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.

As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”

All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”

It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.

Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.

“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”

A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious. 

Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.

And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary. 

Stopping him from talking is the hard part.

“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”

“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.

He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.

He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes. 

It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking. 

A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.

“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”

A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”

Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider. Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”

Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.

He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide. 

“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”

“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.

“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.” 

Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”

“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.

Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up.  “This one was…?”

“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”

A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new. 

Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.

Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.

Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?��

“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”

“The market for…?”

“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail. 

“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.

“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”

“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -

Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.

Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.

Special. 

Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.

Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.

“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”

Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how - 

“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide.  “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”

“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.

“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.” 

Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-

“How much of this is true?” He asks. 

If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.

“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”

An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.

“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”

“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”

Dipper glances at the screen. 

The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.

Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.

Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head. 

Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.

Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life. 

And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice. 

One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab. 

It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself… 

Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist. 

Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t. 

It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.

But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper. 

In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time. 

He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap. 

So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like… 

Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.

Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.

The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable. 

There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap. 

Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.

But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person. 

And while the setting’s  fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.

The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now. 

Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped  there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.

He’s even doing it right now. 

The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -  

Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.

Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path. 

He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…

Dipper speaks up.

“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”

“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”

No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track. 

“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”

“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”

“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”

“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”

“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”

Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..

It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to. 

It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.

Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone. 

But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges. 

“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!” 

That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but- 

Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.

“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.” 

A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank. 

Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you." 

He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.

But Bill doesn’t deny it. 

God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…

Holy shit. Dipper’s right. 

His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.  

But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead. 

“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”

“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”

Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride. 

Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.

“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”

Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful. 

There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show. 

He’s only focused on one person.

Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’. 

Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention - 

Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special? 

No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces. 

Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it. 

Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from. 

Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either. 

Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down

“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”

Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”

“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”

Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.

“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”

“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling. 

So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling. 

Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though. 

Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.

“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.

One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-

Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.

“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em  begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”

Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it. 

He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive. 

Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…

Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.

“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”

Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer. 

“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so- 

Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.

“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness. 

Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.

“Nope!” 

“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.

“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”

How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.

Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.

“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”

“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.

Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.

“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”

“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.

“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”

‘Fun stuff’. 

Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’. 

He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming. 

“Is that… so.”

“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”

“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually. 

Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance. 

He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue. 

Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat. 

“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”

“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.” 

Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch. 

Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead. 

What will he do? When he goes back?

He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…

He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was - 

Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid. 

And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.

Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.

“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”

“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”

“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.

For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.

Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise. 

In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there. 

“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing. 

Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment. 

And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.

Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet. 

“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”

Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?

Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning. 

Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.

Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off. 

And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it. 

The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered.  Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn. 

Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.

Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.

Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”

“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.

“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”

The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.

“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.

With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”

The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -

Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.

“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”

Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.

Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch. 

“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”

“Seems ‘uh’, what?” 

“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails. 

“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”

“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself. 

It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-

“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”

“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff. 

It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.

Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face. 

Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies. 

Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.

Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like. 

“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”

The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask. 

“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”

“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.” 

Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light. 

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.

God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -

Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.

“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest. 

The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat. 

“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him. 

“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.” 

Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.

“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”

“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”

“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide. 

“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.

Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted. 

Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off. 

“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.

Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”

Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.

Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura. 

He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm. 

Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that. 

He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.

The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it. 

Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.  

Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while. 

Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote. 

Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals. 

Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again. 

“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.

Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.

Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.  

Maybe he should replay it to check.

The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -

“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor. 

The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.

Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show. 

Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway. 

He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.

Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does. 

And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.

Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.

He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-

The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels. 

That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.

Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.

“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”

“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”

“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully. 

“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”

A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again. 

There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”

With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.

Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today. 

As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused. 

Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.

“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”

Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.

Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”

The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama. 

Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more. 

God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.

Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.

He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch. 

It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric. 

Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.

Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead. 

Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way. 

Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy. 

Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan. 

And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed. 

Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.

Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.

Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize

Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.

Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale.  Dipper can manage.

It’s just…

The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic. 

Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him. 

If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face - 

Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns. 

There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped. 

Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well.  It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.

But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.

The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it. 

Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob. 

The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.

The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away. 

Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’. 

Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.

If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.

Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot. 

This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on. 

Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses - 

Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.

Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger. 

For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.

“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”

Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.

Better get to work. 

Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust. 

There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.

Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not. 

Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse. 

Dipper figures it out in about two minutes. 

The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.

He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off. 

On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster. 

On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection. 

Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important. 

No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest. 

Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit. 

But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock. 

…It’s all about misdirection.

Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead. 

Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.

Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage. 

Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer. 

Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.

This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit. 

Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.

This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice. 

The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and - 

He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.

Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time. 

More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it. 

Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve. 

So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.

He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips. 

Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be. 

Is there… actually nothing here?

Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature. 

So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door. 

And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.

He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks. 

Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.

Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.

As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table. 

Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet. 

Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it. 

The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.

Sadly, there’s not much to look at. 

Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one. 

He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…

Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible. 

With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.

Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.

This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-

Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!

Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later. 

In his hands, there’s a picture frame.

Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.

A picture of Bill. What a surprise.

Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image. 

Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.

“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers. 

Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or - 

Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily. 

And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book. 

Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good. 

A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -

Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here. 

It’s just a picture of… Dipper.

And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down. 

For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable. 

Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Why is this stashed away?  It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.

Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.  

There wasn’t just one picture. 

With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.

“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.

Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself. 

How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…

Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room. 

Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup. 

“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.

So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.

Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-

A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.

Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about - 

No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.

Shit.

Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.

Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch. 

No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.

That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea. 

Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.

And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition. 

Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out. 

All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings. 

It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.

The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.

Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.

After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.

Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen. 

The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall? 

Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him. 

It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.

And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off.. 

Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly. 

He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide. The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder. 

Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -

Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing. 

The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.

Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow. 

At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.

Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.

Well. He’s intact. 

A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.

Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad. 

Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and - 

At Bill. 

A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.

Then he blinks. 

Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor. 

Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face.  It flickered through several before settling on blank.. 

“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”

Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else. 

He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.  

What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does. 

“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”

A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.

At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple. 

“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently. 

Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.

Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened. 

“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”

Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.

Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.

“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”

A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.

Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea. 

That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.

Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.

“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”

Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action. 

Watching Bill about to enact his  vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -

The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.

“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”

On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.

“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.

No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -

“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”

Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.

“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”

Oh. 

There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could. 

Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.

And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched. 

“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”

Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another. 

And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that - 

“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”

“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”

“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”

Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.

That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now. 

“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”

Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him. 

He’s…

All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.

Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay. 

This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine. 

He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks. 

Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension. 

He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.

Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it. 

Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.

Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim - 

But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.

Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.

Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair. 

The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while. 

Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.

The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.

Living here. With Bill. 

Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line. 

All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument. 

His assumptions have never been right. 

Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.  

Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.

DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just. 

Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache. 

Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other. 

If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.

They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’. 

And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid. 

It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.

Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream. 

It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.

How the hell is he getting away with all of this?

It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo. 

Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.

The birthmark. It must be that.

The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.

But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages. 

It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.

Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better. 

Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.

Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special. 

It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…

Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.

Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box. 

Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips. 

Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow. 

There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.

Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-

No, His room. Where he lives.

An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight. 

Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.

The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.

Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -

Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed. 

He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him. 

Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.

He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…

Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought. 

It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily. 

He could use that.

Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second. 

The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.

And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace. 

He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk. 

Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north. 

“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”

“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”

Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.” 

Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.

Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence. 

Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it.  “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?” 

A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”

Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”

Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”

He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.

Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.

And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.

“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong!  Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”

“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way - 

Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.

“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”

Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes. 

Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless. 

He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.

…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great. 

Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses. 

“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”

“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-

“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”

“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”

Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads. 

Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off -  but when doesn’t he?

Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them. 

Wait, what are they doing here? 

The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -

Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.

He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.

Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed. 

Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”

“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room. 

Just as he suspected. It is a great bed. 

As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to. 

It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill.  For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever. 

Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment. 

“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”

Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”

His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry. 

Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back. 

Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline. 

Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like. 

There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth. 

Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face. 

Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude. 

The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound. 

He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.

A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence. 

Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable. 

So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all. 

The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days. 

But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise. 

“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”

Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering. 

There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up. 

It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.

He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and  - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants. 

The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.

And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’. 

Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.

“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that. 

He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to. 

Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight. 

Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.

Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.

God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter. 

The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls. 

After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would. 

Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.

 None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really. 

…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward. 

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient. 

Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective. 

Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.

[astroyongie]

It might not be something to write about especially on this blog but i just wanted to share it with you and thank you.

Generally i have been in "kpop world" for 7 years now. Started with stanning bts, continuing with exo, then nct and last months i looked more into 4th gen boybands overall.

But I got info only recently, on what those people are actually like. I have never been a delusional stan from the start, i did have crush on few idols at the beginning of journey when i was still underage but nothing massive and i still understood that they are humans.

But after getting info on how those humans actually behave and how there is so much toxic behavior inside and outside industry, i really can't seem to enjoy anything anymore.

Seeing how stans of idols baby them, stripping any adulthood from their idols or write delusional things about them is giving me wake up call as much as hearing how boyband members bully eachother, fuck around and cheat while pretending to be "boyfriend material". The fact that they feed delusions so obviously, saying that their ideal type is *insert fandom name*, fancalls, boyfriend scenarios, staged videos of them "missing their fans" and being kind, while probably laughing and downgrading people's looks. Also don't get me started with queerbaiting. Acting "gay" so they can get more attention and fans, but are extra homophobic.

Also I can't seem to enjoy ggs anymore too, knowing how much bullying, talkshitting is going on behind the curtain. Half of idols being just spoiled or cunning offscreen, but being soft and squishy on screen uwu.

Even though there are lots of idols that are actually decent human beings, most of industry being wack kinda ruined it for me. To the point where I don't really want to consume any of kpop industry.

So I think your blog was kind of like wake up call for me to understand that kpop is capitalistic trap and invloves more bad than any good at all.

I really thank you for helping me reach this point in my life and even though without you knowing, you helped me complete this chapter and probably start new one which doesn't have kpop in it and where i spend a lot more time on things that actually matter.

Thank you love ❤️

Hey sweetheart

I read all of your words carefully, and honestly I don’t know what to say. I want to thank you for being honest and mostly for your courage. If I was able to help you in anyway, than I’m really happy and I hope that this new chapter of your life goes well.

I just want to point out a few things so people don’t misunderstand some things.

In no way I’m saying in my blog that you guys should stop staning groups or kpop in general! I myself listen and consume their music, however I try not to be “involved” in their life due to my own experiences based on my own readings.

At the end of the day, they are people like us, that have a job to do. They have perks and flaws like any human. We should all be free to either Stan or not, to listen the music and enjoy it without feeling bad about it. But it’s also important to remember that they aren’t perfect and even your favorite artist can have different values than you.

But yeah ❤️ anyway thank you hun ! And for everyone else, listen music, have fun with kpop, love and enjoy without pouring too much of your soul into it ❤️

[inactive-luv]

…

Hunger: 1.7k words

cw: vampires, feeding, handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

…

Spencer Reid had now gone two days without a feed, kicking himself for not packing extra blood. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed, bouncing his leg in anxiety, his mouth twisted in starvation.

Aaron can see his painful expression before his face dips into his hands, not even trying to hide his discomfort. Hotch knew what Spencer was, he had to when he hired him, but he never truly understood what it was like.

He knew the basics, the science of it. And as a profiler, he could clearly understand what was wrong with him.

Hunger.

His hand goes to Spencer’s back, and he flinches before looking at his face and calming as he takes off his tie frantically.

“I ran out of blood.” He whispered, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Aaron nods his head, thinking to himself before whispering,

“Can I help you?”

Spencer thinks he means diverting his mind or eating something from room service. He doesn’t know that Aaron’s asking him to feed from him.

“I don’t think you can do anything, Hotch,”

“I’ve had someone feed from me before, Spencer, I don’t think-”

“What?” He asks, his heart accelerating as he feels his fangs pop out. He shuts his mouth, trying to get them to retract, and Aaron can see the obvious embarrassment.

“Spencer, you look uncomfortable. I’m simply offering my help.” He nods his head and turns to him sheepishly, not wanting to show him his fangs before Aaron opens his mouth again.

“I want you to.”

Spencer opens his mouth to let out a sigh when he notices his fangs and looks up to Spencer again. There’s a brief moment where they’re both sat still on the edge of the bed before Spencer gets up from his seat and grabs his neck aggressively.

Hotch is taken aback at his sudden movement but leans into it when he feels the fangs dig in. The first bite’s intoxicating. His eyes flutter as he feels a heat expand throughout his entire body.

But almost as quickly as it starts Spencer back up,

“I’m sorry!” He practically yells out, covering his mouth, blood coating his fingers. “I- I took a lot!” There's a look of concern and worry on his face as Hotch adjusts his seating and grabs his neck, blood still pooling at the entrance of his wounds.

“You barely took any?” His tone slightly questioning, barely feeling the buzz that once engulfed his entire body with the first bite.

“Really? You’re not hurt?” Spencer didn’t want to be greedy. He didn’t want to hurt Hotch. Even if it meant only taking about an ounce, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t injured him.

“I’m alright, Spencer.”

The sound of his first name, the blood on his fingertips, and the sweat on his brow drove Spencer wild. He felt his stomach turn and fill with butterflies. When their eyes met, he had to turn away. He walked over to his bedside table, where he placed his watch and put it in the palm of his hand.

“I- I should check you for hypovolemic shock.”

Hotch almost interrupted before he spread his legs to let Spencer stand between them. He put his fingers on his neck again, gently searching for a pulse while he checked his watch to count his blood pressure.

While Spencer forced his eyes on his watch, Aaron’s couldn’t help but wander. With his shirt unbuttoned and his tie off, he could see the pink twinge on his chest. And when his eyes went lower, he saw his hips jerk, almost scared of where his eyes were.

Hotch glared up when Spencer turned his hips away, and Spencer looked straight into his face when he felt his hand on his thigh. Aaron bit his tongue, looking at Spencer’s mouth, the blood and flush of his skin making his lips look bright red.

Spencer’s hands fell slightly before Hotch raised himself to kiss him. Their lips colliding gently yet with enough passion for each of them to melt in the other’s hands.

His hands that traveled from his thighs to his face, gently cradling his innocence in the palm of his hands as Spencer’s eyes travel. The pale of his wrist in his eye line brushed with blue veins.

Veins that flooded with saccharine blood he could almost taste beyond his flesh. Aaron watched his eyes wander along his arms, his beating chest. His gaze almost searing through his body to his heart.

“How bad do you want it?” He whispered, drawing him back from his delusion to the space between them, engulfed in tension. He waved his wrist past his face as he whimpered.

His gaze full of pure passion as he stared at his arm, the taste of his blood barely on his tongue. "Aaron," He pleaded, his fangs visible under his puffed lips.

"Answer me." He growled in his ear as his palm flattened itself against his scalp and pulled at his long hair. "Ah!" He whined, feeling himself grow hungrier at the pain and the smell of his blood still lingering on his neck.

"Please, Aaron! Please!" He whimpered, lowering to his knees as Hotch pushed him down, his eager eyes staring into his. "God, you taste so good! I need you please!"

When Aaron lets go of his hair, Spencer can't stop himself from leaping onto his neck. Digging back into the bruises he'd left before, drinking desperately.

For a moment, all Hotch can feel is the harsh sting of his fangs before his vision blurs, and he feels the bliss of his blood rushing. Heat expanding over every ridge and ache in his body.

Spencer’s legs lift up to either side of Aaron’s, teeth still sunk into his hot flesh. Endorphins flood his head, and blood rushes to his cock, achingly hard already. Spencer leans deeper into his collarbone, Aaron’s thigh inadvertently rubbing against his bulge.

“Mmh!” He groans with a full mouth, the teeth retract, and he pulls back quickly. Hotch looks up at his face, his blood lining his mouth messily as Spencer licks his lips gluttonously.

He’s so fucking hot.

He leans in for a kiss, tasting himself on Spencer’s tongue before he pulls them down on the bed, his hips still straddled by his legs. Their bodies grinding hard as the space between them diminishes.

Spencer’s shirt flies off first, then he lifts himself to pull his pants down, his cock leaking and deep pink. Aaron pulls his down to his ankles, his shirt being ripped off by a hungry Spencer.

His fangs are retracted, but he still kisses all along Aaron’s neck. Feeling the veins pound, his rhythmic heart beat against his lips. His fingers coast along his vertebrae, making Spencer moan when he reached his tailbone.

His hand flies to his face, and Spencer’s quick to engulf his digits in his mouth, his tongue swirling around them.

Two fingers enter his aching hole, slick with his saliva and a little of Aaron’s blood. Scissoring inside of him, Spencer lets out a debouched moan, so pornographic Aaron’s cock twitches under his hips.

Spencer leans back to sit upright on Aaron's hips. He spits into his hand, bringing it down to his cock underneath him and jerking him slowly. "Fuck," He groans out as he guides his cock along Spencer's entrance.

Gently coasting his head inside of him, they both moan at the sensation. Aaron leans up to kiss him, both of them sitting up now. He feels around his mouth with his tongue, collecting the enticing flavor of him mixed with his own blood.

He feels his fangs clash against his teeth, a wave of ecstasy washing over him as he tastes the toxins on his tongue. He thrusts into him, abandoning his gentle action, hungry for release as Spencer clenched around him.

"God!" He moaned out, Spencer whining before Hotch's hand met his neck, squeezing hard, and he smiles.

One hand grasping at his wrist and the other collecting the blood smeared on his neck. Two fingers enter his mouth as his tongue swirls around his digits. Spencer gasps at every thrust into his tight body, barely feeling the pain of his girth inside of him with the taste of him still fueling his high.

Spencer feels himself get closer, Aaron noticing and taking his cock in his hand, jerking him quickly. “Ah! Ah! Ah! AH!” He whisper-screams as he comes into his hand, his other still wrapped around his throat.

His mouth turns to his arm as his grip loosens; he kisses along his wrist, then up his arms. All along his veins, Spencer peppers tiny marks of pink bites between his teeth.

Instantly they’re both turned around, Spencer on his back and Hotch right above him, his cock still buried deep inside of him. His thrusts are much more rapid now, causing Spencer to moan so loud in his ear Aaron feels his dick throb inside of him.

Spencer turns his head to let Hotch suck on his neck, the pain of his teeth making him whimper under his touch. His eye line is right against Aaron’s wrist.

He wants more.

He needs more.

He feels his fangs press against his gums, longing to drink again, but he keeps them at bay, the fear of taking too much, letting himself control his urges. But Aaron looks into his eager eyes, practically begging for more, and feels himself turn past his lightheadedness and nods his head.

Spencer immediately takes hold of his wrist and lets his fangs sink in for a final time; gently drinking a few ounces as he listens to Aaron’s quivering breaths, he stops himself. Watching him for changes in his vitals, but instead, he looks down at him and whispers in his ear.

“Spencer,” He feels his cock twitch, and Aaron’s hand travel to his stomach. His calloused hands grip tightly at the base of his cock, swaying up and down his shaft as he moans and whines.

“Oh! God, please! Please! Aaron!”

He releases inside of him, thrusting his seed deeper into him as Spencer nearly screams his name, “Aaron!”

...

thats where im ending it. its been days that this has crowded my drafts box; i hope yall enjoy :P

@ssa-noa @ssa-sarahsunshine @tobias-hankel @makaylajadewrites @willowrose99 @sparklinspence @brillianthijinx @katytheinspiredworkaholic

[reverielix]

Bang chan as a boyfriend based on his chart?

Sure ;)))

Let’s get straight into it!💭

I’ve been wanting to talk about his interceptions/duplications for some time, and now it finally fits haha!!😊 His Venus is intercepted and...let’s say that his chart (+ Saturn singleton and other aspects) poses some obstacles for romantic relationships, and suggests a personal transition/journey he has to go through in order to even allow himself to experience romantic love and affection....🤭

Scorpio is intercepted in the 6th house in his chart while Taurus is intercepted in the 12th house. Capricorn makes up for it and rules both the 8th and 9th house as Cancer rules both the 2nd and 3rd house. So what does that mean?

First of all, the qualities associated with Scorpio and Taurus are hard for him to access as they weren’t taught or understood at an early age. This can further suggest that he experienced a lack of love and tenderness, while receiving criticism, (Saturn singleton, 6th house stellium, Chiron in the 6th makes him extremely sensitive to criticism, he started young as a trainee and went through monthly evaluations and such for 7 years!) which probably influenced his self-perception, as he already has low self-esteem and lots of self-doubt implied in his interception, which suggests a need for validation and extra-love, though he was given the opposite. Moreover, he could’ve had issues forming an opinion and sticking to it (supported by his Libra placements), fully devoting himself in a relationship (any type, Mars conjunct 7th house) and leaving his comfort zone. Lack of privacy, fear of loss and struggles regarding finances/recourses may have also occurred in his life. These aspects in regard to the 6th and 12th houses hint at an unstable and insecure environment as a result of lacking routine (e.g. going to sleep at odd hours with Pisces and Virgo here) and giving into bad habits. Something generally big in his chart is his insecurity and deceiving perception of himself as well as his ways of coping (intercepted Taurus, Saturn singleton, Virgo Chiron,... surpresses/ignores feelings or ignores them). He may use his self-doubt and criticism from both others and himself as a “fuel” for his determination and work-ethic to try and prove others and a part of himself wrong. Although one might argue that using negativity to grow from it is benificial, he harms himself subconsciously by having that mindset, since when a) he fails, like all of us do sometimes, he will fall into a pit of self-hatred or b) he achieved a goal, but after it, he’ll still be unsatisfied and want more. It always ends back where he started; craving for UNCONDITIONAL love, but he won’t give himself that type of love (unconditional love can also be associated with Neptune, which is in retrograde in his chart, and can contribute to hyper-awareness of his own wrongs). The love he gives himself is conditional and situational, which he adapted from all the lack of love and criticism and makes him feel like he will never be enough. A big lesson he has to learn is that his work/success doesn’t define him, and he is enough without his awards and wins. He’s an amazing person just being himself, and once he realizes that he deserves unconditional love, he will also be a step further to allow love to come his way. (You can’t come from a place of hatred and expect love to come out at the end!)

In terms of his Venus and his 7th house conjunctions, I can see how he craves love deeply and intensely, he craves privacy and validation, though with intercepted planets the individual isn’t allowed or suppresses a core-part of their personality. In Chan’s case, he suppresses his longing for romantic love and relationships as he is taught to focus on his work (he channels all his energy through his Saturn singleton, work is existential to him) rather than his need for affection, because “I don’t deserve love anyway” (conditional self-love, damaged awareness of self-worth). He perhaps doesn’t consciously know who he is looking for, but craves stability, (a routine to help him feel comfortable, as he values that with his Cancer and Capricorn duplications, but we’ll get to that later) sensuality, validation, appreciation, inspiration, acceptance and most importantly: love! In terms of Taurus here, which is intercepted and is ruled by Venus, I can see how a big life lesson is to value and appreciate his materialistic possessions and achievements that originated from hard work. He needs to learn how to feel appreciative of his past efforts and learn to feel satisfied with himself and his past efforts as well as allow himself to rest.

His Saturn singleton in conjunction with what I’ve discussed previously briefly points out; he channels his entire energy though his work, through restrictions, through his reputation and his ambition. (This Placement fits perfectly with him being on stage. He performs with such purpose, with such determination and devotion by using his body (Aries), and most importantly with his group (11th house).) The Pluto Mars conjunction also hints at Chan being a very devoted individual, who can get engulfed in his task and even isolate himself when doing something he’s passionate about. His Saturn is also in retrograde, which internalizes this placement and makes him very conscious about his success, reputation and overall misery and hardship that he wants to (perhaps aggressively or boldly) take action on and improve all the time. He fears letting people down and wants to live up to their expectations, while often letting himself down in the process, which feeds into his conditional self-love and lack of self-acceptance. He sets limits for himself, when actually, he wants to be free, because he lives in fear of not being enough and fulfilling people’s expectations of him as he wants to have a good reputation and success, be better than all the authority figures with criticizing eyes he’s been exposed to all his life. A contradiction within himself here is that he doesn’t want people to tell him what to do, he doesn’t like being pushed around and wants to be his own boss, but as soon as somebody expects something of him or questions his authority, he wants to prove them wrong and so does what they want. He is a pushover, in a way, but is consciously very resistant toward rules and boundaries other authority figures set for him to follow. Additionally, valuing tradition and following a routine (6th house interception) can be hard for him (especially when it comes to sleep, 12th house). Further interpreting, his Sun (Libra, 5th house) is opposite his Saturn, which can indicate a gap in self-perception that I touched on in the previous paragraph, outlining his rather subconscious (12th house interception, so this part is more “hidden” from him, while the 12th house is already hard to access in the first place) way of self-destruction considering his way with doubt and criticism and how it will forever remain a spiral of negativity that results in no progress if he doesn’t understand he is deserving of UNconditional love). Additionally, he might believe he can only be loved when he performs well and succeeds, which is obviously not true, though it is a big life lesson for him to truly understand that, with his 12th house interception and his tendency to ignore his intuition/spirituality to listen to the logics (air signs and other). He can escape this spiral of negativity by learning this big lesson; he is worthy, he deserves love, he deserves privacy, he deserves care (from himself and others).

Ways to “unlock interceptions” and learn the previously mentioned life lessons are to look at the “directors” (the signs that rule the intercepted houses, so in Chan’s case it’s Libra and Aries), the duplications and take into consideration his intercepted Chiron. First, let’s look at his 6th house ruler: Libra. Libra ruling the 6th house is usually a sign of self-care in a physical sense and beauty and care in everyday routine, pets or a desire of taking care of one. Though, with his Saturn singleton in Aries (opposite Libra) I can see how he works too much and disregards his mental and physical health (12th house would be mental health here). A helpful way of dealing with this is arranging a routine in which he assembles self-care and private time (he had a lack of, which the interceptions point at) to feel instead of brushing his emotions off (12th house interception). He will feel lonely. He longs for love with his Pluto conjunction his descendant, he can even become obsessive about it and feel the need to be with somebody. But as long as he doesn’t understand he deserves UNconditional love from most importantly himself, he won’t be able to allow (healthy) love in his life and recognize when he isn’t being treated the right way, because he pushes others away and has no clarity of what he deserves. In this routine that I have previously mentioned, where he shall implement self-care and privacy, he needs to give himself time to feel and not push his emotions away anymore. And as he accepts his emotions and turmoil, this 12th house part that we all have (this part that Billie addresses in idontwannabeyouanymore), that is hurt and deals with all the things we brush off in a “call me what you wanna, ‘cause I’ve probably called me worse.” way (self-criticism with the Chiron in the 6th — as Chiron is also healing and the 6th house comes together with routine and stability, I can see how this fortifies my claim — and interceptions). When he lets himself feel, accepts his negative feelings and takes care of himself, he will learn to love ALL of him (also his “demon” and will learn to access his 12th house). Through all of this, he will trust himself and his intuition more, learn to use both his brain & heart — here I think it’s remarkable that Melanie has multiple Taurus placements and a Scorpio rising — as the line between reality and delusion isn’t blurry anymore. Listening to his intuition, he will start to feel comfortable with himself and the things and people around him. He will learn to surround himself with the things he feels comfortable with, and not only “should” (brain). This is a big desire: comfort. His Cancer/Capricorn duplications leave him longing for a home, though as long as he doesn’t feel at home with himself, he won’t feel at home anywhere (ties in with 2nd house Cancer and his self-esteem being ruled by the moon with a desire for comfort). And when he learned to love, accept and feel comfortable with himself, he will allow love into his life and not push anyone away anymore (he will learn that it doesn’t matter if he failed or not, if he worked hard enough or not: he deserves love and care like he gives it to others). This is how he could “unlock” his Venus, perhaps. Regarding his Neptune retrograde in the 9th; in conjunction with his 12th house being intercepted, he needs to learn to create a sleep pattern that is healthy and provides him with enough rest. This will then also strengthen his trust and intuition.

Also, his Pluto Mars conjunction conjunct his 7th can imply that whenever he experiences hurt or is left by somebody else, he can transition this pain and obstacle into power and drive, motivation with which he approaches new relationships. This ties in with the dominant role that Saturn plays in his life, as Saturn is essentially working hard through hurdles and misery to come out successful.

So, now that we’ve established that his chart is challenging in regards to his love life and really just anything, we can get into the actual thing haha

⇢ confession/beginning stages

His Libra Sun and Mercury in the 5th, Gemini rising and Aquarius mc can give him a very playful and airy first impression

He is generally attracted to mannerism, soft spokenness and gentleness, as he also likes showing these parts of himself to romance others haha

Would probably take it slow and not rush into relationships (would take a while to confess, he first has to relish in the feeling of having a crush lol)

He might want to introduce himself as the fun and flirty version of himself, though I feel like he’d be way less bold than Minho (he’s a shy Libra bean) — it doesn’t mean he’s “acting” or anything. That’s just as much him as is every other part of his chart.

I don’t think his Venus would shine through in the beginning (I’d be more his air signs taking the lead, talking away and vibing lol) He’d most likely keep it light and nice on the first date, show off his manners yk👀

His intercepted Venus stressed that it would take him a lot of work to let himself freely express his love language and refrain from bottling it up

But once he does let himself express his love freely, during his confession or an intimate moment, it would fizz all up

His confession may be very thought through and planned, though in the moment, he’d just improvise anyway and fizz up like a bottle of sparkling water under too much pressure from holding back everything

Heartfelt confessions are his specialty, though he’d probably get very emotional

Scorpio is already kind of a wild sea, waves hitting the stones, but that interception would just contribute to this inner tension and turmoil

Once he feels attraction toward somebody, it can be very intense, even scary at times

His confession would be the one of a young boy who feels love for the very first time, intense and emotional, maybe clumsy

Though he’d mean every word

He’s just such a loving and caring person,,,,I’m not crying you are because even astrology says he’s nurturing and lovely

⇢ overall behavior in relationship

I feel like this short fic describes it pretty well haha (I read it and immediately thought of his Scorpio Venus interception)

It could be scary for him to be in love with somebody and go past the first, flirty phase

He’d be very devoted and give his all in the relationship (like how Minho would)

Just with the exception that Minho is pretty aware of this part of himself and embraces it with confidence

Though Chan on the other hand would get to know himself in another light

His emotions would fizz up, as he’s held the desire for love back for way too long (his Libra placements and especially his Pluto descendant conjunction have been begging him) and he could perhaps find the intensity of his romantic feelings scary or shocking

His Pluto descendant conjunction gives him a transformative feature. He can be drawn to relationships in which power dynamics can become toxic, though he has the skill to take the pain and transform himself from a hurting to a more powerful person in control. This can be something to look out for when he hasn’t yet gone through the lesson of acceptance and love for himself as his little self-esteem can be abused by a partner with this placement (Also, his Taurus interception hints at a lack of self-worth and boundaries, just like his 12 and 6th house interceptions do, as he can have issues recognizing when something is happening to him that is not right and he doesn’t deserve). Pluto conjunct the descendant can also hint at a partnership in which both partners are very successful and work together toward wealth, success and a comfortable home. His Venus is intercepted and this aspect points at, amongst other things, an unknowingness when it comes to an ideal type or what someone looks for in relationships. The Pluto descendant conjunction and Venus placement suggest that he is subconsciously on the outlook for or especially attracted by somebody who he can work hard together with and is devoted to the relationship and him. He may end up with somebody very successful and wealthy, who transforms him deeply as this person can feel to him like they are too intense for words to describe them.

His Mars conjunct his Pluto and the descendant accentuates what I previously said as he tends to express his drive and motivation in one-to-one relationships, which can bring a passion and determination into a relationship. He tends to get swallowed up by what he does, oftentimes forgets time or a sense of when to stop when he’s especially motivated or passionate about something. In a relationship that could mean a great deal of loyalty and devotion as well as proactiveness when it comes to achieving shared goals and fulfilling shared desires.

His Venus is in a square aspect with his Neptune, which is in retrograde. As I have discussed before, he needs to give himself time to let himself feel. Here it is suggested that there can be a cloud where certain feelings lie. He has a hard time accessing his subconscious, dreams, spirituality and intuition (in conjunction with his 12th house and Neptune rx he, as he has also confirmed, doesn’t have a good relationship with sleep). He has difficulty with his feelings and recognizing, accepting and embracing them. He can be prone to deception and misjudgment (reality and delusion are blurred, as I said previously and also mentioned a way to “unlock” that). Here it’s possible he may choose a partner not right for him, somebody who deludes him into that tale of an intense and powerful bond as his Venus interception also suggests, as already mentioned; he doesn’t consciously know who he’s looking for. He simply craves love and a comfortable, successful future and tends to see that in people who are not for him. It may be hard for him to feel fulfilled if he doesn’t feel fulfilled with himself yet and also because of this deceptiveness he tends to have.

All these things, the 7th house, Pluto, Scorpio, Mars and the interceptions are very much rooted within him. Having watched this video (I would highly recommend you to check her channel out if you’re into astrology!) on shadows and blind spots in astrology, I realized that love and Chan’s attitude toward love is deeply rooted in him. It can be a sensitive topic and bring out blind spots, parts of himself that he doesn’t really know or want to except. He may push his s/o away for bringing out these deeply rooted and emotionally triggering as well as intense things and shining a light on these aspects he dislikes and rejects about himself. He can live in denial of his longing for love and behavior in love as well as his desires, and be protective over these things. This can express itself in engagement with toxic endeavors and relationships. A build-up of jelousy, rage, vengeance and other negative qualities associated with especially Scorpio can come into play. He may be in denial of them and hardly even be able to access these parts, though I feel like in relationships, these qualities are prone to explode in his chart, as he is also likely to bottle anger up and avoid conflict. Maybe he has a hard time staying with somebody, though he is a devoted lover, because he can’t address the problems rooted within himself and rather projects them onto others in one-to-one relationships. Again, though, when he lets himself feel all these negative feelings, all the hurt and aggression, he can transform into a very powerful person and change who he is on a deeper level. These placements, which are tightly conjunct with love and relationships, point at the most vulnerable and scariest parts of him. Confronting scary parts and being brave is the key here!

His Venus interception, if not resolved, (though even when it’s resolved, it won’t forever be gone,) poses obstacles in love style and overall behavior in specifically romantic relationships. He may be shy and tapping into the unknown as he can be clumsy and confused in love. Like a boy loving for the first time, he will have issues expressing his love in a way he feels like is true to himself or feels comfortable. He has difficulty accessing Scorpio qualities and since his Venus lies in Scorpio, I can see him also bursting sometimes. As in, one day he’s more cold and holds back and on another day he showers his s/o with all the love. He can be very intense in love, especially on these days where he just can’t hold back anymore, where this intensity fizzes up.

I think he’d run into a lot of problems finding somebody who is right for him, but once he’s figured it out, he will be such a devoted partner with a passion to proactively work on the relationship and shared goals and desires. He will work hard for the relationship, just like he does for everything, because after all, that’s how he expresses himself with his Saturn singleton; through work and dedication. Love can be life-changing for him. But emotional highs and lows can occur as he “transitions” and continues to grow. It can often be a deep transformation that can feel like death and rebirth. This is the thing I’ve talked about earlier: he is self-destructive (and can also project these denied things about himself onto others) as he tries holding things associated to Mars, Pluto, the 7th house and Scorpio in his chart back/in. The interception being “unlocked” doesn’t make it disappear though — he’ll still be struggling with it and find it hard to address his emotions, establish routine or take care of himself as he gets lost in his passion and work-ethic.

Lastly, we cannot forget that the 5th house, the Sun, the Moon and the 2nd house usually play a big role concerning love in the birth chart as well. Most of these placements reflect how he knows himself and identifies with certain traits. All the previous things I’ve discussed are things hidden and deeply-rooted in his persona that he can have difficulties recognizing and coping with. So let’s jump into the parts of himself that he’s more comfortable with and more aware of, which also implies a more direct and conscious expression of the following aspects. As I already said referring to the first stages; he approaches romance in a flirty, gentle, fun and romantic way. He may enjoy going on dates a lot, meeting new people, being open-minded and generally gets along with most. He just has an easy time with romance in general as he possesses a natural way with words, though shyly, and a characteristic ability to attract many. It could be that he sees it as a priority to keep the romance alive, so he will keep arranging dates and such all throughout the relationship. Somebody with Libra placements or traits can make him feel special and admired, understood even. He can be a good advisor, great at giving compliments or a “therapist figure” to his partner, and is generally very giving. Good for him would be somebody who gives him validation, reminds him of his self-worth, respects his personal space and creates an environment of privacy and intimacy that’s in a way secret and visatable to only him and his s/o. Somebody who provides comfort, care and affection. (Something else would be conditional love. He could base love off of fairness and imply conditions, which both his Libra placements and his Neptune rx suggest, as Neptune can represent unconditional love and the “merging” of two souls. His Venus in the 6th can also suggest high expectations that hold him back from forgiving his partner’s mistakes and flaws as he could hold a grudge or hold these mistakes against his partner in future affairs.) He may also show his affection in a more practical way with gifts, acts of service and touch.

⇢ dates

I can see him being pretty spontaneous haha. Sagittarius is on the cusp of the 7th house and his Pluto and Mars, which are conjunct his 7th, are also in Sagittarius, so he may enjoy little trips into other cultures with his partner to relax a bit from work. Also, let’s not forget, he has his Sun and Mercury in his 5th and many personal Libra placements, he’s a big romantic. It’s how he knows himself, how he shows himself, how he communicates and how he feels. I thought I’d mention this part of his personality, because it’s the most straight-forward and commonly known “version” of Chan, even to himself. Since a partner tends to bring out 7th house qualities and motivate a person to be less their ascendant (the person they were motivated to be as a child or in their early lives) and more a “hidden” version of themselves (so in Chan’s case more bigger-picture-oriented or in favor of getting to know new cultures instead of only taking short road trips,...). So, here’s a little scenario in 1st person (just skip it if you’re not into flash fiction haha):

After 17 hours of flights and waiting, a hard-bedspring hotel mattress seemed a dream, but “the stars shine bright tonight,” Chan smiled

So instead of a douvet, a beach towel pressed against our backs

It had been 2 months, and though it was only an extended weekend, I was gonna spend every second enjoying him and Montpellier.

“I still hate that I forgot my dress.”

“You look better in my jacket anyway.”

The waning moon painted the sea, shone in his eyes

“Can’t have a cute French guy steal my baby.” Sweater paws covered his dimples, but his eyes told in the way they winged up

“Never.”

The Scorpio and Pluto conjunction is coming through🤭

Taper candle lit and polyester napkin folded into a lotus, we sipped on the nicest sounding wine the menu offered.

He laughed with gold in the eyes, an Italian-style suit and curls on his forehead.

“I’ll get whatever they do.” He tilted his head as shadows traced his dimples. The waiter rose his brows.

“I’d like...uhm...Beu- Boeuf bouuu-” Letters morphed into each other, a strand fell.

“Boeuf Bourguignon. Oui, ready in a minute, madame, monsieur.” He left behind an onion smell.

When Chan reached for Ficelle slices, sleeves were loose on his suit.

“This garlic spread’s nice.”

“So nice, you’ve got to have it on your face?”

He covered his face with the sleeves as he wiped

And then some of the spread ends up on his sleeve lol

If life is a movie // Oh you’re the best part.

11:23pm

D-Major vibrated off his acoustic guitar, and his voice accompanied mine through the last chorus

The mattress was softer than expected and his voice fuzzier than I’d remembered.

Love me, won’t you “ever leave me”

Guitar on the bedside table, his arms enclosed me. Nowhere else would I have rather been. (Lol sorry for being cheesy)

Also can we just appreciate his TALENT for a second like this man gives me goosebumps with that tone and his stunning vocal stability☁️💗

Additional small thought; I think with his Sun conjunct his Mercury in the 5th, he isn’t only good at communication, thinks a lot and is proud of it, but also probably talks to himself haha

Feel free to lmk your own thoughts on this post as well as other aspects concerning his chart, let’s chat!💫

//I also want to add that, yes, without the possibility of him using his birth chart to his advantage and making his “demons” a controlled part of him that he turns for the better, he does have a very difficult love life focused on business and unhealthy power dynamics in which he would most likely be the one seeking control, considering his libra placements as well as the significance of Saturn in his birth chart suggesting that he feels the constant need to conform to societal norms for self-esteem reasons and others talked about above like the Saturn retrograde.//

[solarwonux]

1. “We have to be quiet.”

67.  “You should wear that more often.”

literary agent!jin x f!reader

genre: slice of life, fluff

w.c: 2.3k

warnings: a little suggestive, nudity, lots of fluff

note: writing this made me soft lolol. I love this couple so much, they’re absolutely adorable tbh lolol. Anyway, let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

“Come back to mine.” Seokjin flashes you an award winning smile, sending your heart into a frenzy. It fights against the beat of the pop song quietly playing through his car speakers, while he drives through the empty streets, not a car in sight, your hand gripped tightly in his.  

“But your roommates.” You whisper even though you don’t have to as there was no one around except for you and Seokjin. Yet, every time either of you mentioned your roommates your voices would dial down, fade into a whisper like an unspoken rule. Afraid that saying their names out loud would somehow summon them. 

“It’s almost four in the morning.” Seokjin stops at a red light, bringing your palm up to his lips, lingering there for a few seconds before setting it down to his lap. “They’re likely sleeping as we speak.” He states, flooring the gas once the light turns green. The impact makes your body hit his leather seat with a light ‘thud’. 

You groan, Seokjin laughs before easing up, slowing down. He liked to do that; catch you off guard. He showered himself in your reactions only to tease you until you kissed him to shut him up. 

“Please, I leave for my business trip tomorrow night and I want to spend all the time that I can with you before I leave.” Briefly, he takes his eyes off the road, fluttering his eyelashes, winding them into flight. 

You cave, because you also do and he knew that you would have no matter what. “Fine, but you’re only going to be gone for two days.” You roll your eyes, a pretty, soft smile decorating your face. The smile Seokjin first fell in love with five years ago. It’s amazing the two of you have been sneaking around for three of those five years and never once been caught. It’s stupid but he prides himself in keeping up with appearances. 

“But it’s my first one without you.” Seokjin grimaces, pulling into the parking lot in front of his apartment building, setting his car on park and turning the engine off. The penthouse he shared with three of his friends was dark and you let out a sigh of relief. 

He was right. There wasn’t a soul awake in that house. 

You shake your head, letting go of his hand and unbuckling your seat belt. Cringing when it hits the car window. Seokjin sends you a glare, his poor precious car that he saved up for years would break if he left it in your hands. You mumble a low apology before leaning over the middle console and planting a soft kiss against his plump lips to seal the deal. 

Seokjin beams, kissing you once more, “let’s go, I don’t think I can stay awake any longer.” He says and opens his car door, jogging over to your side. You wait, knowing that if you were to take initiative in opening your own door he would throw a mini tantrum, stating: “babe I know you’re an independent woman and don’t need me but let me feed my ego every once in a while.” So you let him. 

He janks the door open, the impulse threatening to knock him off his feet. His body was tired, so was yours. But neither of you had been able to sleep after knowing that there were barely twenty four hours left until Seokjin left for his first business trip without you.

You were promoted to Chief Editor at the publishing company. No longer a literary agent or sharing an office with your boyfriend as you were now a floor higher. It had really sent the two of you off the rails for a few days. He was light years proud of you, but he missed having you around. 

Seokjin offers his hand, leaning nonchalantly against the car door, his eyes drooping, heavy with sleep. He looked adorable, “thanks Jin.” You take his hand and he lazily pulls you out of the car, his arm circling around your waist. 

“Anything for you, my queen.” He mumbles, leaning in and leaving a chaste kiss against your forehead. “Now let's go, remember we have to be quiet.” He winks, placing his index finger above his lips, his hand traveling around your waist to your hand, lacing his fingers in between the spaces of yours.

You roll your eyes and slam the car door making him jump. A knowing glare sent your way making you laugh.

 “Babe.” He whines. 

 “We’re outside and they’re fourteen stories up, asleep. Even if the car door were to wake them up they have no way of knowing it’s us. Don’t worry.” You pat his chest and walk past him pulling him along. “Plus I can be quiet when I need to.” You look over your shoulder sending him a kiss. He shakes his head, pretending to grab it mid air and then placing it above his heart, with a lovesick look on his face. 

“So cheesy.” You say, a sigh of protest leaving his lips. 

“Only for you.” 

Sneaking into Seokjin’s apartment prompted it to be harder than expected.

For starter’s the second Seokjin and you walked into the dark apartment, he bumped into the coat rack near the front door, knocking it over. It hit the floor with a loud clatter, leaving you frozen, your pulse pounding against your ears. 

Even in the dark you could see Seokjin’s wide eyes. Panic streaked past them replacing the galaxies he kept hidden behind them. The sweat was pooling against your brow when the hallway light turned on. “The kitchen,” Seokjin’s yell is coated in a whisper. His arms signaling to the kitchen in a haste. “They won’t see you if you go into the kitchen.” 

You nod, jumping over the coat rack and running into the kitchen. Squatting down behind the counter for extra precaution. A laugh stifles behind your closed lips, the adrenaline rush waking you up. This is why you and Seokjin still snuck around, not that you needed to. You were more than positive that everyone has known about your relationship for years. The two of you weren’t necessarily careful, but it was still fun. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” Namjoon says. His voice drenched in sleep, arms crossed in front of him looking down at his roommate confused. 

Seokjin stood up, bringing the coat rack with him and leaned against it. “Couldn’t sleep, pre-business trip jitters so I went out for a drive.” He shrugs.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows suspiciously. Surely he was tired as hell and didn’t want to deal with yours and Seokjin’s antics tonight. He knew you were here, your choked laugh had given you away while he made his way into the living room. But for the sake of going back to the bed that was calling out to him. So, he pretended not to know. He’s been pretending for nearly three years. Another night wouldn’t hurt. 

“Alright well good night,” He squints, bringing up his wrist and taps his apple watch, 4:30am, it reads. “Or good morning, do you still need me to drive you to the airport tomorrow night?” He scratches the back of his neck and lets out a tired sigh. 

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks man. And sorry for waking you up. I think your clumsiness is rubbing off on me.” Seokjin drags the coat hanger, the legs screeching against the wooden floor making all three of you cringe at the noise. He sets it against the wall, fixing the coats to buy time. 

Namjoon shakes his head and yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “Whatever.” He says and turns around making his way to the comfort of his room once again. 

Seokjin closes the door to his room quietly. Letting out a sigh of relief thanking all his angel’s that the only one that woke up was Namjoon and not Hoseok. The ladder would’ve made him sit down on the couch and talk about his troubles. Or if he was in one of his moods - not the bad ones - he would’ve given him a run down on how his day went in full detail. 

“So much for being quiet Jin.” You scoff. 

Seokjin turns around and walks to you bringing you in into a tight hug, “It’s not my fault I forgot the stupid coat rack was there.” He mumbles against your hair, running a soothing hand down your back. 

“It’s your place, how do you forget the way things are set up.” You pull back, tilting your head to look up at him. Maybe it was because you were close to letting the sleep take over your body but he looked more radiant underneath the dim light of his room and somehow taller than earlier. It definitely had to be your sleep deprived delusions. There was no way the man before you could’ve grown another two inches in the last three hours.

“I’m too tired to argue with you so yes baby, my beautiful lover you are right.” He nuzzles his head into your neck, tickling your skin in the process. A tiny laugh falls out of your lips. It sounds like music to Seokjin’s ears. “Do you want to change?” He stands up straight, his brows furrowed in concern, while he takes in your stuffy work attire. 

“Yes, I feel I’ve been wearing these slacks for five days straight.” You huff pulling on the legs of your pants, revealing your lavender painted toenails, wiggling them against his carpeted floor.

At around eight Jin had clocked out and snuck his way into your office asking if you wanted him to take you home. A promise to stop at your favorite burger joint failing to finish escaping his mouth when you had cut him off and told him that you had to finish the re-edits of the novel you were assigned too. Your department was heavily understaffed which meant your work was doubled, biding you to stay late after hours to be able to make all your deadlines. It worried Jin to see you so overworked, but as much as it tired you out. You loved it so he never once complained to the company. 

Plus the two of you had appearances to keep up. Can’t have everyone knowing that he was head over heels for you and vice versa. 

But at around one he started to worry after not hearing from you for nearly two hours. He called you and that’s when he found out you were still at the office. Without a form of hesitation he put on his shirt and walked out the front door, keys in hand. Telling you he would be there in fifteen minutes. Which is how the two of you ended up driving around town for the last two hours sharing fries and caramel sundae from the fast food restaurant down the street of the company. Of course a couple make out sessions here and there after he parked the car at an abandoned Toy’s R’s Us. (The ‘r’ unlit so it read Toy’s Us instead, which for some reason sent the two of you in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.) 

Now you were here, in his room, still wearing your work clothes, shoulders dropping as finally the wave of exhaustion that had been plaguing your boyfriend for a good hour hit you. 

Seokjin untangles his limbs from you and walks to his closet. “They look good on you. I had half a mind to walk into your office this morning and get a good feel.”

“A good feel of what?” You cock your head. Nimble fingers moving up to unbutton your blouse. The annoying Chiffon material scraping against your soft skin. 

“Your ass.” He states throwing you the matching shirt of one of his pajamas. “Do you want the pants?” He turns around holding the striped material in his hands, swallowing thickly as he watches you remove your clothes, leaving you naked in the middle of his room. The only thing protecting you from his prying, hunger filled eyes were the flower patterned panties you kept on. 

“No, they're uncomfortable.” You bend down picking up the pajama shirt and unbutton the first few buttons. Oblivious to the way Seokjin was looking at you right now, burning his heated gaze into your body, loving the way it seemed to glow, shimmer, underneath the moonlight casting through his wide bedroom windows. In about two hours it would disappear for the night so he made sure he imprinted the image into the part of his brain that belonged to you. 

“You should wear that more often.” He throws the pants over his shoulders and stalks over to you.

“I’m not really wearing anything.” 

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You roll your eyes and shrug on his shirt, leaving the first few buttons undone. You walk to the right of the bed - the one nearest to the window and the wall - and pull back his navy blue comforter. “Let’s go to sleep, I’m too tired to do anything.” You lay down.

Seokjin agrees, as much as he would like to just hold you close and make love to you until the sun rises. His eyes were closing in on him and he was sure the second he felt the heat of your body and your warmth wrap around him, he’d fall asleep. 

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. 

“I agree, there’s always tomorrow...Well I mean today but in eight hours.” He reassures, laying down on his side and bringing the comforter up to his chin. He wraps his arm around your waist, resting his head against your chest, humming as the comfort overtakes him.

You rake your fingers through his hair, placing your cheek against the crown of it. “I love you, Jin, you make me so happy.” You whisper, closing your eyes. 

Seokjin smiles, bringing you closer, kissing the sliver of skin against his shirt. “I love you angel, you make my life worth living.” 

In seconds the silence and stillness of the night takes over. Your bodies relaxing, tangled up in a mess of limbs, finally welcoming sleep.