#he's now the reason i get out of bed

[softiedingo]

#DOITFORHIM

[kitamars]

so it was valentines day yesterday huh

[kebriones]

Ilias Mavromichalis (he was called "fairyborn" for being beautiful and bezande-ilias for being the first born son of the bey of mani) was born in Mani in 1795 and died 27 years later during the greek revolution. Accounts of his death vary on whether he was killed or he killed himself or he asked his own men to kill him to avoid getting captured. His head was sent to a local official and then the sultan as a trophy. He was a really talented warlord and a generally nice and pleasant guy apparently and even kolokotronis thought very highly of him so the fact that he died so early was unfortunate. I have seen mentions of him using an axe as a weapon which idk how true it is but axes are cool, so. He had 8 younger siblings all from the same mom and dad. There's a story about him having a wife and son too but idk how actually true that is either. His beauty is generally what's mostly noted about him, with the legend going that even his enemies who saw his severed head were sad that such a pretty guy died, followed by the fact that he could've easily lived longer but refused to retreat from a battle his troops were losing primarily because of his own delay at giving out some orders.

[triglycercule]

killer being like "yeah i know every single little thing about horror and dust" (because he watches them as a part time hobby (freak) (find something better to do)) and then he acts surprised when they do something that he wouldnt expect them to do in his little predetermined absolutely perfect concept of them

like what do you MEAN horror licks spoons clean when he's using them so he doesn't have to get a completely different one for the main course and the dessert. what do you MEAN dust has a lisp even though he speaks fluently and uses even more complex words than killer himself. horror knows how to sew and he often patches up their things without either of them noticing?? dust always wears oversized and clothes that cover him up just because he finds it comfy?? what??? out ra geous???? these guys have small little quirks to them that killer doesn't already know about???? killer immediately wants to know more. so he can expand his internal profile of them of course. not for any other more endearing and sweet reason. not at all,,,,,,,, (:3)

[raycatz]

I'm not including a situation where someone might be injured because in that case I'm thinking the bed goes to them by default or they are nominated for it. anyone who wants to be chatty goes to join the living room floor gang.

What are your thoughts and headcanons? Do you have thoughts on how the boys tend to approach assigning beds in inns? Who do the chain choose to sleep near when camping and why? What are their dynamics like when settling down for the night and getting ready for the day?

In "Mirror Vs Open Closet Door: Fight!" by Gintrinsic (here) Four refers to the chain's decision on how to split up between inn rooms as the "Link-per-room ratio" which I find very funny. He, Sky, and Time also talk about their thought process behind why they do or don't want to sleep in a room with some of the others which I find fun and interesting.

So! If you have thoughts and want to share them! *gestures to the post!*

[front-facing-pokemon]

[rainingincale]

.

[thedreadvampy]

My housemate is moving out in January

She told us this a week or two ago, when she sat down and, after sitting with us watching TV for over an hour, said "hey so I bought a house and I'm moving out. We agreed on 2 months notice so I won't move until the end of January."

The last time she talked in the immediate terms about buying a house was in 2021, when the sale she was working on fell though and she was unemployed so it was a "when I'm back in a position to look I'll start looking again." Since then I've occasionally asked her how she's doing on the house buying front and she's been like "oh I'm getting there financially" but hasn't mentioned anything concrete.

She didn't tell us she was looking at places. She didn't tell us she had put in an offer. She told us when the offer was finalised. A week AFTER she emailed the letting agent about getting out of her part of the lease. And, it increasingly feels like, only because the letting agent's response was that we had to agree to change the lease.

The letting agent's response (which our housemate obviously didn't copy us into; we had to follow up separately and they copied us into the email chain) also includes that when we change the lease, they're empowered to change the rent, quote, "no cap". Rent was already going up in January - there's no possibility of Sam and I paying her share of the rent.

The really fucking upsetting thing is we're not strangers. This isn't a casual "housemate we found on flatshare" thing. She and Sam have lived together literally their entire adult lives. Me and her have known each other well over a decade. I lived in her and Sam's flat when I was homeless. We were the first people she came out to as trans. We're not super close but I thought we were fucking friends. And she's literally gone out of her way to not talk to us about this for what must have been months while the sale completed - which means she's lied to my face at least once cause I've asked her about her finances in that time (cause she's in a job she hates that she only took to get the house money, so it's like. when we've been commiserating about work stuff I'm often asking 'are you almost free?'). she literally went out of her way to talk to the letting agents before talking to us about putting us in a situation where we could lose our fucking home.

And she keeps. trying. to pretend nothing's happened. Every time I've seen her since then she's not mentioned anything or apologised or anything, she just keeps chatting away and offering hugs and fistbumps like nothing's happened. Like we're still fucking friends.

All it would take for us to still be friends and to be happy for her would have been one fucking sentence in the groupchat like "hey, just put an offer in on a house" or "I'm looking at properties, just so you know, that might happen in the next few months". Like nobody begrudges her for buying a house! It's very cool for her! She's 31 she's worked really hard to get the money I would love to be happy for her! Unfortunately she decided avoiding conflict is more important than giving the people she fucking LIVES WITH (who btw fronted her a month on the rent here while she was unemployed and agreed to take on a larger proportion of the move-in cost back in 2021, if we're still holding ourselves to shit we said 2.5 years ago), so no, you are not entitled to our friendship or to going back to normal.

like if she'd been honest with us it would have been something to process but we'd have had time to figure out our next steps. instead she's left us in a position where we have to find a new roommate before she gives her one month notice, which means finding someone by the end of December, which oh look that's the middle of the fucking Christmas holidays. and she didn't tell us anything until the START of December, or copy us into her conversation with the letting agent, meaning we still don't know what the rent on that space will be so we aren't yet in a position to advertise it. Has she offered to help find a roommate? Has she fuck. Has she offered to help out by moving her move-out date? Nah, she's moving as soon as she gets the keys because, quote, "that means her finances won't have to change". SOUNDS LOVELY. NOT HAVING YOUR FINANCES SUDDENLY CHANGE. I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY REASONABLE FUCKING GOAL.

Thirteen fucking years she's lived with Sam. Four fucking weeks over Christmas she's left us to figure out a way to not turbofuck our living situation. And she's got the fucking nerve to try and pretend we should be interacting like nothing's changed. Jesus Christ. What a fucking unhinged way to treat...anybody, honestly. never mind the friends-your-entire-adult-life part. literally cannot imagine a scenario in which I would buy a house without telling the people I lived with.

(haha actually this is what my parents divorced over so apparently it's not unusual. although at least my dad had the decency to tell the woman he shared finances with at the point he put in an offer not the point the fucking sale went through.)

Like we'll be fine. It's a huge city centre flat with decent rent and queer housemates, hopefully even when the rent goes up it'll be an easy sell in a city with a huge housing shortage and big queer community. We've got a couple of people interested already, sight unseen - worst case scenario we have to live with someone we don't get on with. And it's given Sam and me a push to look at our own finances and as of today, we've got a mortgage decision in principle and can start looking at flats in the area - mind, we'll be transparent upfront and tell any prospective housemates that yeah, we're looking to buy and move out in the next 6-12 months, and we'll tell them if we put an offer in, because we're decent fucking people who aren't going to spring that on someone out of the blue.

But it's been I think 2 weeks and I'm so fucking angry I could spit. It's such a fucking betrayal. And frankly you know selfishly like. I just had a breakup a couple of months ago, I'm in the middle of moving jobs, both me and Sam have a history of housing instability and this has been the first decent, stable, safe, not-mouldy not-freezing home I think any of us have had, and this is so fucking triggering and upscuttling I could just start biting. like I was talking to my friend about it last week and it's just like. Can I have One Fucking Thing of the three main tentpoles of survival - home, work, relationships - that are fucking stable right now? because shit has been In Flux lately. and at least the work and relationship stuff has changed because of my decisions. going through all that work to make myself short-term unstable to gain long-term stability has been really hard and draining and then just as I was reaching the crisis point with work stuff BOOM, IT'S HOUSING INSTABILITY WITH A STEEL CHAIR. fuck. seriously fuck this and fuck her. we're going to make something good come of it but what a deeply, unbelievably shitty thing to do.

[creaturefeaster]

Could you tell more about Taylor? (it sounds strange, but I'm crazy about him💀)

Taylor has really changed over the years compared to a lot of other characters, and yet I feel like I haven't ever talked in length about him personally before.

He likes to keep to himself, he's a very quiet and private guy who spends most of his time on the move, skateboarding, working out, so on and so forth. He's also been known to enjoy comics and certain movies, though not all that often.

He's got quite the stunning pair of eyes, and as such they tend to be an attractant to unwanted attention. That, and he is most expressive through his eyes. He likes the anonymity of sunglasses, and the ability they give him to observe without drawing attention to himself.

Deep conversation, close relationships, they really aren't his forte. He can talk and he can debate, but if he can help it he'd really rather not. And he tends to come across as rude and stoic when he does engage. He also has a very bitchy resting face, and whether it's forced or he was born into it, it rarely falters.

When the Fault originally took place, he was fine with learning to adapt to bracing the end of the world with someone he was acquaintances with. Close enough to not care about being around him, but it's not like he knows the guy very well. That guy being Zack of course.

Even though they're trekking this apocalypse together, you'd be surprised at how long it takes Taylor to warm up to Zack more than just an acquaintance level. He can handle getting to know one dude he's sort of stuck with, but when he's around a bunch of people, like Zack would lead him to, he really becomes a man of few words.

It's hard for anybody to learn anything about the brick wall that he is. The right types might be able to pull a little more out of him; Hannah, Tanner, really chill people who don't feel the immediate need to pry into him. But for others, one could strike the most charming first liner to a conversation and he'd more than likely pretend he didn't hear it.

Why? Aside from just not being a talker, he believes people need to earn what they get from him. Not the healthiest approach to socializing, but that's who he is. You need to earn a response from him, you need to earn his respect, his history, etc. How to go about earning any of this is something he similarly neglects to share. But I made him and so I can tell you: you need to get him excited, and know how to tell when he is.

He might seem hard to please but he carries his few interests on his sleeves. As long as you stick to what he knows when you talk to him, he can actually be somewhat pleasant to talk to. And when he's pleasant to talk to, you know you've actually got his attention and interest.

It's why Zack, such a carefree and outgoing person, still gets Taylor to stick by his side so well. Zack likes a lot of what Taylor likes, and he knows how to talk about it (Also Zack is just really charismatic and knows how to pull a chat from Taylor anyhow).

He's just a private, athletic dude who's a little bit too serious sometimes. He's strong and he's fast, and he definitely carries himself like he's in charge of his own path, but he honestly functions a little better when he's not the one deciding what to do. He wouldn't admit it, but if Zack weren't in the picture he probably would not have left hometown, and he would have no real aspiration to work towards except to survive.

Now his aspiration is to survive better than anyone else instead, as Zack drags them into increasingly more chaotic situations. He wouldn't admit this either, but Taylor also sort of likes the thrill of doing things he shouldn't, even though he was particularly law-abiding before the Fault.

Is that enough about him? I feel like I could go on, but that's essentially him at his core. Calculating and quiet, but sporty and a bit of a thrill seeker underneath.

[pupkou]

[knaveofmogadore]

You ever wake up from a dream so fucked that you have to sit there for 10 minutes after waking to rewrite the ending so that you can move on with your day or are you normal

[ana-rends]

i would rather live with ana for the rest of my life than binge like this ever again

[cashweasel]

Some very late Halloween doodles ft besties @sysba and @night-triumphantt ocs because they are KILLING me and I had to share

Galael is being harassed and syfyn is a seagull but it’s ok because their bfs are having the time of their lives serving cunt as sexy lifeguards how can you be mad at that?? (I’m looking at u especially swim rescue galael)

Daemon and karima as jasper and alice HDJSKSKDHD they have my whole heart I just can’t get over daemon’s wig and karima serving teenage boy

Zuko and katara will never beat the kiyazan allegations and if they had a halloween contest they’d win best dressed 🤝

[tswwwit]

Could we get a taste of that new work you started…👀

Heck, have the whole thing! This is for that AU of an AU where Ford captured Bill/Bill was his familiar, and Dipper freed him, like an idiot. Here's the first fic and here's some needed backstory.

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

Dipper leans over to let his fingers trail through the water. It’s oddly warm to the touch. Bill’s voice carries, weird and echoing, over the river and through the empty city.

Which Dipper’s ignoring, for the moment.

Not like he’s missing much; he can't understand the lyrics anyway. Bill’s demonic singing continues over his inattention. 

This dream is distinctly… not a good one. On the surface, at least; Dipper’s not terrified, but only because of his company.

He also might be a little jaded at this point.

Truth be told, he’s visited a lot of dreams at this point. They’re Bill’s go-to meetup spots. Though Dipper hasn’t really been the biggest fan, so far, he’s never been in any danger. That he knows of. Bill’s made sure of that.

Bringing Dipper to a dream that lacks his idea of 'pizazz', or gore, or immediately evident monsters is a new tactic - but at least it’s not a bad one.

It’s eerie, for sure. The silence beyond Bill’s yodeling adds an extra layer of ‘creepy’ - but the boat is nice, the company’s familiar. Even the water’s warm against the tips of his fingers, leaving clean, bright lines in the river -

Dipper yanks his arm back with a start, and he shakes the water off rapidly. Some of the red drops leave spots on his shirt and pants.. 

The broken surface of the water bleeds bright red. Like wounded flesh.

Dipper grimaces. He’d back up, but there’s no space in the gondola.

And - as a bonus - it looks like it’s attracting more glimpses of half-formed shadows. Of course. Dipper can only catch them out of the corners of his eye - dim, too-lanky shapes he never fully sees through the fog in the alleyways - but maybe it’s best to ignore those, too.

Still not a bad dream, necessarily. Things could be way worse.

But like everything to do with Bill, it’s unnerving. With a side of ‘constantly feeling you're being watched’. 

“Ahem,” Said triangle clears a nonexistent throat. Bill thumps the stick on the bottom of the river, the one he’s been using to guide them along the city canals. “Hello! Listen up, sapling, I’m serenading here.” 

Dipper shuffles around until he finds a shaky seat back in the gondola. Bill doesn’t bother. He doesn’t have to worry about balance, with his floating in midair thing. 

“This is… interesting.” Dipper says. Bill brightens up, lower eyelid rising. So that’s a start - but he’s not sure how to follow it. He tucks his arms around his legs instead. “Why are we-”

“Vide stellas quae tremunt!” Bill continues his song without any notice of the question. Dipper tries waving at him, but he’s already closed his eye.. “Amoris et spei!”

No explanation, then. Dipper rolls his eyes.

God forbid Bill not have attention on him for ten seconds.

“I sense,” Bill says, tapping under his eye thoughtfully. “That you might not be appreciating this, kid.” Said eye rolls in its golden socket. “Why am I not surprised!”

At Dipper’s shrug, Bill grumbles something under his breath, and pushes the gondola along. Silent, for a moment.

Dipper shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Absent the music, this place is extremely eerie. There’s a light fog on the canals, and he doesn’t dare look into the alleys.

In a way, he understands why Bill’s like this. Needing company. Demanding attention. Being demanding is part and parcel of his demonic nature, and he was also stuck in a prison for thirty freakin’ years. That alone would make someone deranged. 

Bill was just insane even before that.

Thankfully, irrepressible as always, Bill starts humming some other tune. Dipper’s glad he started again; he must be in a better mood. Bill’s huge eye narrows slightly in contemplation.

Then he lets out a low, self-satisfied cackle, and rubs two hands together. A third arm keeps steering the boat.

Dipper rolls his own eyes. 

Yeah, this is definitely going to pan out like Bill expects. Because everything Bill’s done has worked out great for him.

Bill said he had plans for Dipper, but he’s taking his sweet time getting to them. It barely seems like there is one, most nights.

Whatever he’s after, it might work better if he focused on his goal.

Instead, he’s making Dipper focus on him.

Every time they’ve met up - and it’s been months - Bill’s clearly making some kind of effort. He’s hinted at a deeper truth, dozens of times. He taunts, and he talks, and even teaches on a whim. His methods are obscure and bizarre, they seem out of place - but Dipper gets the sense that Bill genuinely thinks it’s important. 

He must really be distracted by his ego, because so far? His ‘plan’ doesn't seem all that sinister. It’s like he’s barely started it, or it’s genuinely not-terrible - which is why Dipper willingly joins Bill in his dreams. 

Okay. That, plus a certain amount of sheer, idiotic curiosity. Dipper’s not perfect. 

But he knows Bill’s trying to show him something. 

Maybe if Dipper got it - whatever ‘it’ is -  then he’d be able to thwart the plan. But until he finally gets it, or it comes to fruition or… Until something really evil happens, he guesses, then they’re just going to keep… 

Meeting up? Hanging out? Dipper’s not sure which phrase fits right. 

Judging by how it’s gone so far, that ‘until’ might be a while. 

So long as Bill’s just reveling in attention, though - there’s no reason to stop him screwing himself over. Freedom seems like a big deal to him, and if the last few months are any indication? He’s been enjoying it immensely.

Feeding Bill’s ego a little can’t hurt, and it’s. Not bad, really.

Dipper just. Doesn’t have a lot of people to talk with who aren’t family, and Bill’s always up for a conversation. Even if it mostly devolves into bickering about stupid things, and Bill’s awful, awful jokes -  Dipper’s finding he doesn’t mind that much. Bill’s quick-witted, weirdly charming for a person who’s a shape, and his magical knowledge has a depth that’s breathtaking. Even if it comes in an annoying golden package.

Whatever works, works, though. As long as Bill’s eager to hang out, then Dipper might as well indulge him.

After all, Bill could be up to worse things than bothering Dipper. And when it comes right down to it - he’s kind of fun. In an insane, demonic way. 

Dipper’s still cautious. He’d be an idiot not to be. 

But so far, Bill’s keeping his word. 

Come to think of it, the plan must be one of the reasons Bill’s still here, in this dream. He’s making sure this isn’t a nightmare, while he tries to convey his… something. Possibly in a manner that won’t completely chase Dipper off. But if he can figure it out, before Bill manages to be super evil - 

Dipper tucks his arms around himself tighter in the chill of the fog. He shakes his head to clear it. 

This is novel, and interesting - 

And very, very dangerous. 

He’s got to stay wary. Reminding himself that Bill is absolutely insane.

“What, you chilly or something?” Bill sets fists on his angles. He was humming for a while, but now he looks curious. He even floats in a bit, while the stick keeps steering the gondola without a pilot. “This is what you get for having a crappy endothermic system.”

“Shut up.” Dipper tucks his legs together too. The temperature, if anything, seems to have dropped by a few more degrees. “Didn’t you make this dream? Can’t you control the-”

“Ahem. Unlike some amateurs, I know how to set the atmosphere.” Bill shuts his eye, somehow managing to look self-assured without a face. He wags a chiding finger at Dipper, floating close enough to flick his nose. “You wanna keep your empty nightmares on refrigerator settings. Fits the whole ‘eternally preserved’ theme.”

“And how does singing bad opera fit the ‘theme’?“ Dipper smacks Bill on the side. Dumb move, it only hurts his fingers - though Bill's not cold, like the air. It makes him pause. “...Hey. That wasn’t in Italian.”

“When in Rome, speak as the Romans do! And they were chatting in Latin before your forebears had forebears.” Bill shrugs, nonchalant. “It's the source of Romance languages!”

A minor detail. One Bill’s using to avoid the question - and he only resorts to being a pedant when he’s caught. 

Dipper narrows his eyes -

Then seizes the opportunity.

And the triangle. 

As Bill thuds against Dipper's chest, he wraps his arms around him tight. Bill flails a bit, muttering something impossibly muffled against Dipper's chest. How does that happen, he doesn't even have a mouth. Dipper decides to ignore the impossible, yet again. Squeezing Bill a little harder, like he could crumple him like tinfoil. Knowing that he won't.

Man Bill’s warm; radiating off him like a personal, annoying space heater. Dipper can already feel the sensation returning to his fingers, gripped tight on Bill's edges.

And frowns. “Wait. I thought this was supposed to be nightmare Venice, not Rome.”

“Cripes, what a pedant.” Bill groans, the hypocrite. Dipper can’t see his eye - he’s rotated it around to face forward - but he’s sure he’s rolling it as well. He floats lower in Dipper’s lap, and one raised finger jabs the soft underside of Dipper’s jaw. “I bet you’re a real hit at parties. I couldn’t take you anywhere!”

Bullshit, Bill’s arrogant enough to take anyone anywhere, and be smug about it. 

And if he’s trying to pretend he’s not in a good mood, maybe he should stop glowing so bright.

Dipper squeezes him a little tighter. Bill’s been caught, he can’t escape - and while he hasn’t totally settled down, he’s letting his legs dangle over Dipper’s and only kicked him once. It was barely a tap.

“I get it. You’ve never spent much time in Italy.” And Dipper smiles. This’ll get to him. “Bill Cipher claims to be the dream demon extraordinaire - but he never managed to bother a Pope.”

The sharp, indignant noise Bill makes is so, so sweet. Dipper jostles the top hat with his cheek, just to bug him more, and listens to the ensuing weird burble with a grin.

In the end, Dipper gets a thoroughly informative rant about the intricacies of both Italy and Rome and parts of an empire that he’s pretty sure never existed. Bill’s alight with indignance - and amusement. Possibly at his own bullshit.

Dipper really, really wishes he had a notebook with him. 

Talking with Bill is always fascinating, and infuriating. Half of this has to be bullshit. Some of it might be true. Dipper… should really check out more history books. Maybe then he’d have more chances to call out Bill’s bullshit, with facts. For the moment, questioning him on every aspect pokes enough holes to help sort out the fiction.

It’s an easy conversation, and a long one. Bickering with Bill takes ages, makes Dipper struggle for words, he’s usually a little annoyed - and it’s oddly pleasant. In that Dipper doesn’t have to be pleasant. Or even nice. Bill absorbs it all with infinite confidence, and shoots back with pointed ripostes. 

“-And that’s why garum was crappy, and ya shouldn’t miss it.” Bill finishes. He pats Dipper’s arm twice, and, reluctantly, is released. He floats up above the gondola as it drifts, slowly towards a dock. “But I think we’re getting off topic.”

“How? We-” Always argue, Dipper was about to say. That was before he stood up; now he’s thinking better of it. “Shit.”

He tries to balance as the gondola shakes; some of the blood-water laps over the sides. Crap, arguing with Bill is one thing, but he didn’t want to literally rock the boat. 

Bill floats up further, watching the sloshing - and starts laughing. 

Dipper glares, but the stupid tiny canoelike thing is shaking under him, he grips the sides. Since they’re next to the dock, he smacks a palm on it. It steadies things, barely.

“Pfft, loser.” Bill’s lower eyelid is raised in amusement. He watches Dipper struggle for another moment - then laughs harder, before holding out a hand. “C’mon already!” 

Dipper takes the offer, absurdly grateful. Bill’s hand is very warm, like the rest of him.The black void of the not-flesh is a strange non-texture under his palm, steadying him before he falls. Dipper fumbles for a moment before holding onto it tight. Even though the boat is about to capsize, Bill’s got him. 

Bill brightens up and squeezes his hand back. Not hard, surprisingly, maybe a little teasingly, and it makes something flip around inside Dipper’s chest.

Bill hauls Dipper bodily up onto the dock, with surprising strength and a cackling laugh. Dipper feels a quick slap just above his hip as he briefly stumbles. 

Crap, that was fast. He almost backpedaled into the canal again from sheer surprise - but his grip on Bill means he only lent back for a moment.

Bill, the asshole, thinks it was amazingly funny. He’s leaning forward, another sixty degree angle in the air.

Dipper flips him off, heart racing fast. He wonders how Bill managed - but, right. He’s a demon, of course. Physics don’t matter. Those weird, noodlelike arms defy them on the daily.

One of said arms prods Dipper in the stomach. “Man, kid, talk about clumsy!” Bill’s still chuckling. His surface flickers with amusement, eyelid raised in a smile. “I shoulda let you go for a dunk!” Then a thoughtful rub under the single, narrowed eye. “Though I do like you less dissolved. At the moment.”

Dipper narrows his eyes. His valiant attempt to crush Bill’s hand in his own fails at the complete lack of bones inside.

Bill’s insane and weird and clever. He’s the strangest being Dipper’s ever met - but whatever his motives are? It’s - so far - been fine.

Dipper’s not dunked. Or dissolved. Hell, if anything, he should always be more terrified. With what Bill does. With what Bill is.

Best of all, that wasn’t a handshake. Even though Bill’s still holding on, it’s not in the right position for one. Interlaced fingers don’t count, he’s sure.

Dipper struggles at the touch, and gets his hand back, eventually. He wipes it on his pants, trying to shake off the thought.

It definitely wasn’t a shake, because they didn’t make a deal. If they had, Bill would be gloating about it. Dipper can put that single heartstopping moment behind him.

He’s still thinking about it as Bill leads him through the city. The conversation is mostly Bill rambling, their usual light bickering. 

Dipper may be wandering around a nightmare, but with his palm flat on the warm surface of Bill’s back, at least he knows nothing else is going to freak him out. Bill would get huffy about not being the center of attention.

“So whatd’ya think of the main dream? Took the blueprint off a guy with agoraphobia.” Bill tugs one one of the passing door handles - which doesn’t move. When Dipper looks closer, it’s literally painted on. “No indoors, anywhere!”

“It’s kind of…” Dipper thinks about it. Nearly silent streets, cold and misty. Even if Bill wasn’t here, it’d be… “Empty.”

“Uh, duh, that’s the point.”

“No, I mean,” Dipper scrunches his face up, trying to think of - he isn’t much for horror movies, but exposure to Bill has shown him enough. “There’s no ominous signs of who was here, either. Like, I’d think there would be… half-eaten meals on the cafe tables, or, like.” He snaps his fingers, trying to think of remnants - “A single, empty child’s shoe.”

"Oh, very nice! I like how you think, sapling.” Bill taps Dipper’s temple, twice, before patting his cheek. Dipper leans away before he can pinch it.  “Even if it’s not your thing, you always got something going on in that bonebox, don’tcha?”

Dipper just shrugs. He can’t not think. A dream demon liking what he does think is… morally questionable. 

And, maybe, kind of neat.

“We don’t see enough of each other these days. A few hours at a time is nothing.” Bill continues, waving over the scenery. “Not that I’m not a fan of you letting me whisk ya off  in your dreams - but what about reality?”

“Nope.” Dipper drops his arm, folding both of them over his chest. “Not happening.”

Freeing Bill was…. Arguably morally gray. Dipper doesn’t regret it, but Bill is an asshole, and Ford was convincing. The main advantage of Bill’s freedom came with their deal, Bill was in a terrible position to bargain.

The second best part is not having Bill on Earth anymore. He’s still dangerous, but not immediately so. 

To reality. No so much for people hanging out with him. 

“C’mon, kid. We’d have way more time together when you aren’t conked out!” Bill sidles closer. One thin arm wraps a couple times around Dipper’s waist, while the other waves broadly over the scenery. “A full Europe trip, just for two.” A brief pause. “Not that you’d get this kinda quality in your mundane version of that continent, but whatever.”

“If you say so.” Dipper hedges, that sound extremely subjective. Bill blinks at him with genuine surprise; it makes Dipper fidget for a second “I haven’t been out of Gravity Falls in-” Hell. When was the last time he went back to Piedmont. Or anywhere else. “...It’s been a while.”

Bill takes another second to stare. Then sighs. His enormous eye rolls around and around in its socket, in yet another exaggeration. 

“Well, think about it, kid. One of these days, we’ll get to it. Me and you, on Earth!” Bill prods him firmly in the chest, eyelid raised in a smile. “We could take a long stroll through the streets, check out a couple cafes, crush a couple local governments- Then teleport over to a boulangerie for pastries! It’d be a great time!”

Insisting on reality. Again. Dipper holds back a sigh. 

Letting Bill into the world - even with the compromises Dipper managed, is a horrible idea. 

But right now Bill’s off in his own little world - literally, in a way - and that concept isn’t one he’s going to accept. Not the tactic to take to argue against it.

“I guess it’s a nice thought. Or fantasy, anyway.” Dipper pats Bill twice on the edge. “You’d stand out a little too much.”

Even Dipper needed a couple weeks before he got used to Bill. He’s a giant demonic triangle made of maybe-gold. Bill Cipher, in reality, would send pretty much everyone screaming, or reeling in horrified awe. 

Probably, Bill would love that. Right up until it meant no cafe service.

“Yeah, yeah, most humans have no taste. Doesn’t mean it’d ruin the occasion!” Bill wags a chiding finger. His arm slips from its loop around Dipper so he can rest a fist on his edge. “What’d’ya think shapeshifting’s for?”

“For wha-” Dipper starts - then jerking back, as Bill’s form changes. 

Dipper turns his head away, shielding his eyes against the bright light. And grimacing.

This demonic drama queen. The light isn't typical for his changes, he’s doing it for show. Whatever Bill’s turning into, he hopes this shape won’t have too many limbs, or infinite teeth - or  worse, pick him up again - 

Trying to smack Bill is always an option, though. Especially when he’s trying to be dramatic. Dipper lands the punch easily, operating on muscle memory -

Into something warm. And firm - but much softer than gold.

Bill starts chuckling. There’s a slow, rhythmic motion under Dipper’s knuckles.

Already, it’s far from the worst Dipper’s had to deal with. Bill’s not on fire, or scaled, and there’s no huge tongues licking out between his tiers. He’s not even slimy this time, though certainly more…. organic. 

Dipper opens his mouth to tell Bill off, blinking rapidly - 

“So! What’d’ya think, sapling?” Bill’s grin is wide and white and close. Too close, his sudden surge in makes Dipper lean back on instinct. “Ya like the look?”

Dipper stares.

“Eh?” Bill prompts again. Now he’s wiggling his eyebrows.When he doesn’t get a response - he sticks out a tongue - a pink, human tongue, Dipper watches it flick back in. “Where’s the insult?”

Right. New shape. Bill… wants feedback, something to stroke his immense ego. Dipper should….  

Say something. Probably.

He looks again at that face. A human face. Bill’s standing there, intimidating; he has eyebrows and a nose and white teeth in a wide smile on this - Dipper looks down, then slowly up again - human form, leaning over him.

“Um,” Dipper says, eloquently. He does another once over, lacking for words, until he meets that single golden eye. And swallows, once. “...Hi.”

“Not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” Bill continues.  He adjusts the collar of his shirt, smoothing back his hair - then digging a finger into his fleshy cheek, and twisting it. “I think it’s a pretty accurate translation!”

Dipper nods. He opens his hand by fractions, until his palm rests flat on Bill’s chest, then thinks better and grips the shirt instead.

Okay. This. Is a new one. 

Bill’s face - he has a face - is all angles, with a pleased, smug, too-wide grin. He thankfully still has only one eye, otherwise Dipper wouldn’t know where to stare - and he's very much up in Dipper’s personal space. Warmth still radiates off him, just like before.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bill says dryly. He grasps Dipper's side, just near his hip. His hand is bigger now, and - and Dipper shakes his head to clear it.  “So! You and me, strolling through the city-”

Bill rambles on, per usual. The familiarity is steadying. Dipper squinches his eyes shut - then blinks, but nope. The scenery hasn’t changed.

This is. Normal. For Bill. Because this is Bill, showing off again. They can move on. 

Will move on, because Bill’s looking like he wants to continue their walk. Dipper should. Follow him. That’s the right thing to do.

The first step is turning away. Easily done, if he stops gripping Bill’s shirt so tight. Forcing himself to loosen his hold works - but now he’s touching Bill’s chest again, and that isn’t great. Though it’s very solid, like Bill - because it is Bill, in a different shape, he needs to remember that. The shirt is soft, though when he strokes it. Maybe silk? Dipper -

Should stop touching it, what the hell.

Bill keeps rambling, arm warm against Dipper’s back. Dipper nods out of habit, stepping forward as Bill leads them on through the city.

Dipper forces his arms to his sides, holding them rigidly in place. He’s keeping them to himself. Thankfully, Bill doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about that.

Not that anything is, but. It might make things weird if he did think that.

Which means Dipper can relax, if only a bit. Demonic self-absorption has some benefits after all. 

This is only another strange shape Bill’s taken. He’s turned into way weirder ones, for way longer - and for dumber reasons. Whatever prank he’s pulling is - Anyway, it’s only lasted maybe two minutes, it won’t be much longer. If that’s even how long it’s been. 

Come to think of it, how long has Dipper been asleep? Dream time and real time never entirely track, and from this perspective they’ve been hanging out for a few hours. Longer than their typical meetup, since either Bill has ‘business’, or Dipper wakes up. Usually the latter. Eight hours real time is more like two or three in the dream realm - 

…Which might be why Bill complained about it.

Bill keeps commenting on the city. Gesturing around. Possibly describing how conquerable it is, as he guides Dipper along on the midnight nightmare stroll, 

Dipper isn’t sure what, exactly, the current topic is. He isn’t paying much attention. 

He rubs at his forehead. He doesn’t feel much more centered, even with Bill’s arm around his waist again. Still warm, and somehow more solid. Certainly broader.

It also pulls him in and around, until he’s confronted - again - with Bill. His golden eye alight, looking him over skeptically.

“What, is this boring you?”

“I- what? No.” Dipper says. He nearly touches that chest again, and then the arm - but the biceps aren't any better. Technically speaking. He clenches his hands into fists, holding them to his own chest. “...Okay, maybe a little.”

Compared to some random nightmare city, recent developments are much more distracting. 

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” Bill tuts, pulling Dipper in until their sides squish together; Dipper still doesn’t know where to put his hands, he tucks them over his stomach. “See, this is why we gotta get more hangout time!”

Bill’s other arm waves over the dream, and a space in it parts, folding up the rest of the scenery. Like opening a curtain, the city is shoved away to two sides, pleating like in a skirt. 

The space opens into a void full of not-quite-stars.

Dipper leans in closer, and feels Bill’s arm tighten. 

There’s a myriad of images floating in blackness. Things floating through space that’s not space, with a huge pyramid, black and ominous, somewhere in the distance. 

The real heart of the nightmare realm Bill comes from, he’s seen glimpses before - 

The one Ford told him never, ever, ever to take a single step into. 

“You have a point, sapling. And I’ve had it with the tours of these run-of-the mill mental meanderings.” Bill never stops talking. He’s almost proud of it. “Now that I’ve cleared the squatters out, you should come crash at my place!”

Dipper yelps as he’s hauled up - damn it, he should have expected that - and braces himself on Bill’s shoulders. He nearly falls, Bill’s grip shifting, until he clamps his legs around Bill tight.

Not that he would fall - Bill wouldn’t let him - and he’s always been inhumanly, unfairly strong. The arm under his butt and the hand on his back would stop Dipper from escaping, even if he wanted to drop to the cold cobblestone ground.

“Cut it out.” Dipper kicks out from sheer indignance, anyway. Damn it, he knew he should have seen this coming -  and Bill nearly stumbles to keep him in place. “What are you playing at?”

He’s done with this prank. With having to look at that face, with its. Everything. With Bill hauling him around like he’s a pet, damn it, he made that clear long ago, when Bill was still imprisoned. 

Now he wants to bring him to the center of a mess of insanity and nightmares, what the hell is with that.

Maybe Bill can actually drive people insane. Because part of Dipper - the part that keeps saying ‘okay’ to their meetups has already started a horrible, insidious whisper. 

Telling him everything else has been okay. Wondering if it would really be that bad. 

“You clearly don’t care for the the terror atmosphere, kid. I’m fine with ditching it for the moment.” Bill jostles him in place, grinning wider at Dipper’s glare. “I got options! We can set up something else.”

“Like what.” Dipper says, flat. 

“Look. Bribing you, Pine Tree? It's hard,” Bill says, with some chagrin.. “I’ve already given you power - not that you’re using it - and you got the pleasure of my company. You’ve even got some of the secrets of the universe on hand, but you keep dodging chances to hang!” His eye narrows. “What’re you really into?”

“I-” Dipper hesitates. Without a retort prepared, he’s not sure what to say.

“Name it and I’m there, kid. You did me a major favor, we’ve been walking out for a while -  and I’ve been nothing but a gentleman when it comes to us.” He puts a strange emphasis on the word, one eyebrow raised.  “What’s not to like?”

A lot of things, honestly. None of which Dipper can say.

Demon, for one. Dangerous, definitely. Insane, absolutely - and through all of that. Dipper has kept meeting up with Bill, even though he could use any of the dozen wards Ford has tried to foist upon him. 

Bill’s hand is stroking his back, there’s an arm underneath him and it’s weird and - 

God, Dipper wishes Bill wasn’t still in this shape, it’s throwing him off. For a prank, it’s weirdly well constructed, there’s no uncanny valley. Now his mind is racing

Actually, didn’t Bill say it was a translation? 

Like. If Bill was a human, this would be how he looked. Still all angles, in a way. Unnaturally strong, oddly fascinating, and with amusement evident in the sharpness of his smile.

“Good! You’re thinking about it. Lemme know what’s cooking in there.” Bill’s grin is white and wild, a dangerous shape on his face. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

A smile that, now that Dipper looks at it, isn’t all that sharp. If he tugs the corner of the lips with his thumb, Bill makes a face, sticking out his tongue -

With a start, Dipper realizes he’s been staring at Bill’s mouth.

Bill snickers, but doesn’t respond. A slow smile, with his single eye half-lidded, and close enough that Dipper can feel the breath on his face. Dipper’s heart is going triple-time, and Bill’s very very close. 

At some point Dipper wet his lips, involuntarily. He watches as Bill’s eye glimmers, then slowly shuts.

And - 

The blare of the alarm cuts through things like a knife. 

Dipper sits bolt upright in bed. Heart pounding.

For a full ten seconds, he flails at the sheets blindly, surprised - until he remembers where he is, and lets his arms drop.

He stares around his room with out seeing it. Still bleary, blinking slow.

What…?

Dipper sits there for another long moment. The sun isn’t even up, why did he set his alarm so early. He knows why he did it but. Now it seems ridiculous.  

He wanted to make it less than eight hours. To make it cut off before Bill was expecting it. 

Before either of them expected it, this time.

“Shit,” Dipper says. 

He fumbles around for the cup on the bedside table. His mouth is dry, and he needs something to center himself, but he only manages to knock it over.

The memory of the dream - a lucid, very real event - is stuck in the forefront of his brain. Dipper can’t shake it. All of the Bill-dreams have been vivid, but this one is even more so. 

He almost -

Dipper rolls over, sheets tangling around his legs, with the memory searing bright in the forefront of his mind.

Even when he pulls the cool pillow against his face, it doesn't help it feel any less hot.

That thing keeps running through his head, no matter what he does. The memory's too vivid to be anything less than real. How close he was. The warmth. How Bills eye fluttered shut, along with the vivid picture of his mouth, lips slightly parted.

He's never - but then Bill was -

Dipper hugs the pillow tighter, letting it absorb him in its comforting softness. Even the tips of his ears must be red by now.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

He should have listened to Ford. He should have taken those warnings to heart.

He’s heard so many of them. 

Don’t talk to demons. Don’t get involved with their magic, don’t make any deals, don’t interact at all except to eliminate them.

And do not, under any circumstances, speak too long to Bill Cipher. 

Ford's smart. He knows how to handle almost every situation, and he's cautious enough to come up with almost every eventuality.

Dipper never had a warning against wanting to kiss an evil triangle. He swears a little more into the pillow, tense and frustrated.

God, he's an idiot.

Bill’s weird. He’s insane. He’s all about every aspect of twisting a mind into absurd shapes - hell, he is a shape. Not a human. Not good.

And not into anyone, as far as Dipper can tell. On the very rare moments the topic has come up, Bill’s been disparaging at best - and even if he was, it would still be a terrible idea. 

Dipper pulls the pillow tighter around him. He thunks his head-and-pillow combo against the mattress, embarrassment writhing in his chest.

He’s going to get up in a moment. First, to make some coffee - a lot of coffee - 

And second, to come up with his own plan. 

Bill knows about everything, or at least he claims to. He definitely likes it when people are crazy, but odds are? He won’t appreciate this kind of madness.

But with any luck - and some careful work, on Dipper’s part -

Bill Cipher will never, ever know about this.

[dutybcrne]

Sometimes I like to admire Kae's new skin and think of aaaall the little gaps where someone could press quick little kisses against

[magic-is-something-we-create]

i am back from my vacation

first thing on my to-do list: nap

second thing: explore the minecraft update now that i have a mouse again and not just my glitchy trackpad

third thing: start on the next page for the lost because i thought the vacation would be nice for not thinking about it but instead i was thumbnailing the next page on paper on day 2 bc im so obsessed with these fuckin aliens it's not even funny