#journaling is super relaxing for me

[mmriesoftvat]

i said this over discord, but i'll say it here.

kami 1000% keeps a personal journal to document his life and the things he's doing in sumeru. he finds it therapeutic to jot down all this thoughts, and knowing he doesn't have to recite them again for nahida. he finds comfort in writing, as well as reading.

[heckahecker]

anyways on the upside i got a new work journal for all my notes and whatever. and it’s super cute it’s got a cat and it has little markers at the top of the pages to circle if it’s rainy or cloudy or sunny and it’s simple enough that i don’t have to spend 10 years filling out the top but it makes me so happy to tick off the weather for the day 🥰

[yuukimiyas]

໒꒰ྀི ◞ ◟꒱ྀིა

[clawsonpaws]

Tips for closeted littles from a closeted little

Diapers: period pads (get the overnight ones) or period underwear, they might not work superrrr well but they’re worth a try

Paci: chewlry, lollipops, baby bottle pops, push pops, I’ve seen lollipops that look like pacis before, your thumb✨

Sippy cups/bottles: cute water bottles with straws

Clothes: adult onesies, most pajamas are super cuteee, cute clothes in general no one will question you since it’s a style

Bed?: I personally roll up blankets and put them on the side of my bed not by the wall and it makes me feel like I’m in a sorta crib

If you have a way to go to a convenience store and pay without parents knowing, they will most likely have baby products, make sure to buy some big things too if they ask

Ask a friend you’re comfortable with to buy something little for you if they’re able to

Kids games on any device really, if you’re superrrr concerned you can delete them after playing them

Swaddle yourself in a blanket it’s super cozy and you can pretend you’re a ghost!!

No one questions stuffies!!! You can play pretend with them when you’re alone :3

Baths! Just say you wanna relax and you can have super fun bubble baths!

Listen to lullabies with headphones on

Mac and cheese, yoggies (they are like little balls of yogurt covered strawberries and they make me feel so little), Cheerios, cheez its, goldfish, fruit snacks

For me, cups that are super big so they make me seem small while holding them

Always use little spoons/forks

Ask parents to cut up meat when given to you (my mom does it all the time:3)

Juice boxes/caprisuns never get questioned

Bracelets make me feel little, I dunno about anyone else

Watch kids shows (no one EVER questions Bluey)

Fictional caregivers (either make an imaginary one or make head cannons of a character!!)

Character ai has fictional caregivers you can talk to, plus you can make ais of them if there isn’t any

Find old baby/toddler stuff (for some reason a lot of people have them in their closet) and say you’re keeping them for nostalgia

If you have a parter tell them the little names you like as petnames they can call you

Coloring books never get questions

Get a journal that you can write little things in or draw in when regressed

HELLO KITTY, need I say more?

Cute socks!!

Weighted blankies

Oversized everything

Truck or treat as long as you can

If you cosplay cosplay as a child

Sensory items

Those hoodies that look like puppies

Bright colors on things you can (if they don’t make you overstimulated)

The tiny backpacks

You can use graphic novels as picture books!!

Bento boxes make me feel like I’m having a little lunch

If you can use straws when you drink from a cup and not a bottle

Oversized sweater and shorts (no pants nation!!>:3)

Sorry if it’s bad I came up with everything while writing it!!

Good luck to all my other littles love y’all <3 (platonically)

[honeytonedhottie]

dear diary⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✨

keeping a diary is so much FUN and helpful not only for my mental health but for overall GIRLINESS. as someone who's been keeping a diary consistently for two years now, i'll be giving some diary resources and tips on how to get started and maintain a diary.

WHY ITS FUN TO HAVE A DIARY ;

i love to read past entries bcuz first, im rly rly funny and its fun to go back and read what i was writing about at that time and just reminisce on points in my life. it makes for great entertainment and it showcases growth that i've made and the way that my character changed or grew.

its been a game-changer for my mental health bcuz i have a little outlet where i can be completely transparent and just yap endlessly with no one to stop me or invade on my privacy.

TOOLS FOR A PHYSICAL DIARY ;

fluffy pink and purple pens

yummy scented glitter pens

past-able things (examples include ; cut outs from magazines, photos that you've taken and printed, stickers, memo sheets)

some print able and past able resources ;

decoration for the actual diary like glitter, stickers, ribbons, and frills.

for the actual diary , look for diaries that are pretty (for example, fluffy diaries)

more examples ;

TOOLS FOR A DIGITAL DIARY ;

a good writing tool (FOR MY DIARY, I USE NOTION)

cute headers + photos to insert into my diary, i find all of my photos on pinterest.

digital diaries are easily a lot less work then physical diaries which is why i keep a digital diary but keeping a physical diary is SO much fun too.

THE ACTUAL WRITING PART ;

everyone will write in their diaries in a different way based on whatever feels the most natural, but for me i start off my entries with "dear diary" and then write in the journal as though i was writing to a friend so its super comfy and relaxed.

i actually have a couple of writing outlets, so i have a journal and i have a diary. my diary is mostly for my day-to-day life. its updated 2x a week (tuesdays and thursdays) in my journal, thats less about my day to day and just random things i wanna write about.

STUFF THAT I HAVE IN MY JOURNAL ;

all about me

girlhood and the little joys of life

why im the most beautiful girl (with proof)

stuff i like

vaunting about myself

sweetest inbox letters (cuz ur all so sweet)

list of things i've consciously manifested so far this year

my car collection

tattoos i wanna get and why

my unholier thoughts

PROMPTS AND IDEAS ;

angel numbers

favorite song lyrics

list of things to manifest

a love letter (to yourself, crush, etc)

letter to your future/past self

lipstick stain log

current obsessions

pressed flowers

favorite sweet treats (ranked)

list ur crushes and celebrity crushes

favorite quotes in general

ppl that u look up to

doodles

all in all i think that journalling is such a fun and beneficial hobby and hopefully this post can help u to start something that u might rly love. ✨

[tswwwit]

Here's the Finale of Cult AU! Part Five was here and that's got links to all the others.

Hope you all enjoy!

Good worshipers devote their whole heart to god.

The typical way to display devotion is through acts of service. Whether it’s speaking the words granted to them in dreams, following the commands of his interpreted mysteries, or keeping his altars clean - everyone has a role in the Great Plan. 

Dipper’s thing has always been the art of study. And he was good at it. 

Nobody really objected, at first. Following the knowledge of Cipher would surely bring him to the true path of righteousness

That didn’t pan out as expected. Or very well, for almost everyone involved.

But somehow, eventually, impossibly - it ended up with Dipper being here.

There’s an argument to be made that he doesn’t have to study Bill anymore. Nobody’s here to care, except for Bill, who doesn’t mind… pretty much anything Dipper does. At worst he’d be miffed about the lack of attention. 

But old habits die hard, and Dipper’s always been curious. 

The demon-god is right here in front of him. In the strange, oddly human flesh. How could Dipper not be interested?

Currently, Bill lounges in his armchair, staring off into the distance with a zoned-out expression on his face.

At first glance, everything seems normal. Bill could pass for a human-ish guy having a lazy weekend, relaxed and careless.

A second glance would show that the hand under his chin isn’t his own. The tattered remains of a sleeve and ragged, severed flesh dangle against the upholstery. Occasionally Bill clacks the jutting arm bones together like the world’s worst pair of tongs. 

Dipper has no idea where Bill got the limb. Could be a prize, maybe Bill made a ‘lend me a hand’ pun that went too far. Mostly, he wishes he’d throw the damn thing away. 

Bill wants to magpie a bunch of souvenirs from around the multiverse? Fine. But he should stick with things that aren’t biodegradable. 

Dipper makes a face, then another note in his journal. 

Dismemberment, not for ritual purposes. Just because Bill’s super weird. Probably thinks it’s ‘funny’.

If the cult scriptures were right about even one thing then… it wouldn’t be great. The ‘god’ they depicted wasn’t the best.

But if they had been the least bit accurate, then Dipper wouldn’t have to make up a Bill-Cipherpedia from scratch. 

Dipper flips to a half-completed page in his book - glances up at Bill, who’s still distracted, eye unfocused - and starts adding to his notes. 

The other mortals Bill's had were on the right track. Keeping a log of their adventures, interesting historical facts. Details on spells, written down in code that’s not too tough to crack. A ton of practical, sensible, logically organized advice. For someone who’s bound to be a demonic companion, he’s sure they’ll be invaluable. 

When it comes to dealing with Bill Cipher himself, Dipper’s journal is going to be the best.

He’s already filled fifty pages and it barely scratches the surface.

For one, Bill Cipher is not a god. Just a really super powerful demon who can pass for one on a good day. His ‘guidance’ should be taken with a heaping helping of salt, and his ‘path’ veers so far away from righteousness that it almost seems like Dipper was on the right track. 

Bill enjoys chaos. Violence, murder, and arson. Tricks and schemes. He starts bizarre and unpredictable bullshit all the freaking time. He loves things that by all stretch of sanity and reason shouldn’t be, and does it with aplomb. A total goddamn menace.

Dipper checks back on his subject - still calm and quiet. A rare sight. Important to capture.

Bill stares off into nothing, face nearly blank. His eye remains unfocused as it flicks around in short, rapid motions. If Dipper had to guess, he’s concentrating on one of his many external eyes. Pretty deeply, too; maybe going through several at a time. 

The expression, though, is odd. Because he’s not smiling. Not that Bill’s upset or anything, he’d be more active if he was, it’s just. 

Without that eternal grin, or his constant chatter, or that fast-paced energy, it makes him look. Kinda different. 

There’s no mask being worn here. No lies. No pretense remains, when he's this distracted.

It’s just. Bill.

“You’ve been quiet,” Bill says, out of the blue. 

Damn it. Dipper thought he wasn’t paying attention. Now Bill’s turned, waving at him with that detached arm instead of his own hand. 

He pretends to ignore him, ducking his head down and focusing on his journal. 

“Hey!” Bill again, more insistent, and slightly amused. “What’s so interesting, sapling?”

“Nothing,” Dipper lies. He traces another line on the paper, and frowns.

So much for capturing the moment. Bill totally ruined it by moving. 

Dipper glares at the half-finished sketch. He just can’t quite get the angles of Bill’s face right, or the shading of firelight on his skin. Yet another way that jerk is difficult to pin down. 

Bill lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that lie was terrible! We gotta get you back up to speed on deception before you try anything subtle. Should only take a few years.” He scrunches his face up in mock thought, tapping the severed arm’s finger on his chin. “So! I think you’re up to something!”

“And you’re not?” Dipper’s not an idiot. He knows this guy by now.

“No idea what you’re on about!” A flash of smile, and a wink. 

That’s a lie. Dipper can tell in the way Bill’s smile goes just so, and how he manages to pose even more louchely in the chair. 

He makes another note, ignoring Bill’s pointed stare. 

It’s not like Bill doesn’t know what he’s researching. Though he hasn’t directly commented on it, every once in a while he tries to offer up ‘interesting facts’, or go on some random story. Most of which are pure lies. 

Dipper doesn’t bother responding. Another thing to note for future humans - don’t encourage him. He’ll only take it further than you’d like.

Something shifts in his peripheral vision - Bill, sitting up straight. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk, and his eye glows a faint and eerie blue for a moment, before returning to gold. Looking smug. Too smug.

As Bill finally drops the severed arm, rubbing his hands together in sinister delight - Dipper stares suspiciously over his journal.

And there’s the other reason he’s recording all of this.

Bill really is up to something. 

The way he’s giggled to himself around the penthouse the last couple of days. Taking time to spy on something, or someone. That doesn’t take a mind-reader to figure out, just a pair of eyes.

“Speaking of things,” Bill says, a segue that has Dipper doing a double-take.. He leans over to grin at him, chin thankfully propped on his own fist. “Ever think about expanding your wardrobe?”

“Uh,” Dipper hesitates. “Like, literally? I don’t think I need the space-”

“I’m not talking storage. I’m talking fashion!” Bill springs up from the chair, arms wide “More than just jeans and flannel and the other grubby stuff you scrounged up. Something with style.”

“Uh,” Dipper repeats. He shuts his journal, plucking at his t-shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

The derisive Bill look gives him speaks volumes. Dipper slouches in his seat. 

Yeah, okay, it’s not the most fashion-forward, but it’s not, like, weird. He could wear this basically anywhere and it’d be fine.

“One of the suits in said wardrobe should be good to start with. I know there’s a few tucked in the back,” Bill continues. He gives Dipper a long once-over as he stalks closer. “You can’t tell me you’ve never tried one of those on.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Dipper admits. Under Bill’s intent gaze, he shuffles back on the couch. “They’re not really my thing?”

“Yeah, figures.” Bill sighs, with a dramatic eye-roll. “Try one on this evening, then! We can get it adjusted if you’re a little…” He hovers a hand near Dipper’s head, palm flat, raising and lowering it. “That craphole you called a cult kinda stunted your growth.”

Warmth flushes Dipper’s face. He’s not short. Bill’s just stupid tall. “I don’t even know how to tie a tie.”

Bill’s eye and mouth both go wide, and Dipper knows he’s made a huge mistake.

“Oh, that I can do something about.” Bill claps once, and starts rubbing his hands together. The grin makes its triumphant return. “Right now.”

Which is how Dipper ends up standing in the middle of the living room, stuck in a stuffy dress shirt and jacket, as he tries, desperately, not to sweat.

“And finally,” Bill’s voice is low, above and just to the right of Dipper’s ear. Arms over his shoulders, and long fingers brushing his throat. “Nice and tight around your neck.”

Dipper stares forward. The words enter his ear and instantly evaporate into pink mist in his mind. “Okay.”

“Like this.” One swift tug cinches the tie around Dipper’s neck; not tight, not loose. A silken, obvious weight. “Got it?”

“Yeah.” Dipper’s voice is half an octave too high. Clearing his throat, he says. “Yeah, I got it.”

With another laugh, Bill pats him on the chest. In the mirror, Dipper can see the dangerous curve of his smile. He’s tall enough to peek over the top of his head, holding him by the shoulders with long elegant fingers. A picture of perfection, looming behind a scrawny nerd with a beet-red face. 

Though the suit does fit, despite Bill whining about needing adjustments. He’s just too picky. The real problem is the person inside looks deeply, hideously uncomfortable. 

God, Dipper wishes Bill wouldn’t be so close.  It’s too warm. Too - 

Dipper wipes at his forehead, then around his neck. 

Sometimes he wishes he knew less about Bill. Ignorance would be bliss. 

Bill’s eye narrows. He looks Dipper over thoughtfully, smirk slowly morphing into a frown. “The look’s decent enough but…” He waggles a hand, a so-so gesture. “Kinda missing something. Probably needs accessories.”

“Great,” Dipper says, still staring in the mirror. “You do that.”

He watches Bill depart, feels the touch leave his shoulders, and the coolness it leaves behind. He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it.

Brushing off the suit doesn’t help. Neither does adjusting it. Taking it off in the middle of the living room is out of the question, not least because he doesn’t have anything to change back into. Bill vanished his other clothes the instant they came off. 

No matter what he does, Bill’s touch lingers.

Which is stupid, it’s not like - He breathes in, then out through his nose. 

All this learning, and for what? It’s only gotten him into trouble. He delved too deep, asked questions he shouldn’t. He spent too much time learning about Bill, a dangerous endeavor in its own right. 

Now there are facts hovering in the forefront of his brain, and he never could stop thinking. Even when it was a bad idea. 

Dipper rubs at his face, and undoes the tie. It’s uncomfortable and he should - yeah. Preoccupy himself with trying to redo it. He caught at least seventy percent of the instructions.

The silk slides under his fingers. The knot refuses to tie at first - and when it does, it’s lumpy and weird and awkward. 

Bill would know how to do this better. He knows everything. Dipper wishes Bill didn’t know that much, or at least about… things that aren’t sinful. 

He knows all about them, though.

Too much, maybe.

Bill Cipher has, in fact, kissed men. While being a man, or man-shaped being, and there's nothing wrong with that. Objectively speaking, it's morally neutral. And religiously speaking, it's practically approved, once you toss away all the bullshit some assholes drilled into your head, ages ago.

So Bill likes men. And that's not bad, or wrong. Plenty of normal, regular humans do that, and they shouldn't feel guilty about it either.

Dipper glares, and the man in the mirror glares right back at him. A short, scarred, semi-wreck of a person. Barely kept together by stitches and willpower, and god he looks so… small. He’d never qualify. 

Maybe it’d be better if those things were sinful, because then Dipper could keep everything bottled up tight, knowing there’d be terrible repercussions. Pushing it back so deep that even the most thorough mind-probe would never find his crimes.

Anyway, it’s stupid. Dipper’s just some random former-cultist who Bill’s reforming into a barely presentable companion. Interesting guys are taller, and cooler; they go on adventures and fight monsters. Guys who don’t panic when their god looks at them too sharply, or hide under any beds. 

He sticks his tongue out, looking at the small pink mark. One that wouldn’t be there anymore if Bill hadn’t intervened. One arguably shouldn’t be there at all. 

Plus, Bill’s Bill. There’s probably a million billion reasons that getting involved with him is a bad idea, so really, it’s for the best. 

Clearing his throat, Dipper tries retying the tie again. It’s almost a distraction.

By the time Bill returns, Dipper’s found his resolve, and he’s not thinking of anything weird. If only because the damn tie won’t turn out right. One of his fingers is stuck in the knot. 

“Ha! Wow, that’s almost impressive!” Bill says. With one quick yank, he frees the the unfortunate digit. “Where’d your little mortal mind wander this time?”

“Where’d you go?” Dipper snaps. He shakes his arm to get some feeling back in his index finger.

A question for a question. Sadly, Bill doesn’t take the bait this time.

“Just picking up a few things! You musta really drifted off to screw up like that, though.” Bill says, sounding amused. He reaches up to ruffle Dipper’s hair. “Every time I think you can’t get cuter, here you are tying yourself up for me.”

“Sh- damn it.” Dipper shuts his eyes. He scoots away from the hand in his hair, and tries to straighten it out. 

He has to keep a better eye on himself. Having a tongue again has made him too careless. If anyone knows better than to say whatever comes to mind, it’s him. The consequences loom too large.

Or… well, he could say anything. Maybe. Sort of. Here, at least. 

But it’s one thing to want Bill to shut up, and another to order it. Spending the massive leeway he has on a minor annoyance is just dumb. 

“Hold still,” Bill says. Tone light, but serious enough that Dipper goes still. 

Bill examines him for a long moment, circling around with his eye narrowed. Then he snaps his fingers. An idea has struck him. “Alright! How ‘bout this?”

Something cold and heavy drops around Dipper’s shoulders; another thump hands directly on his head. He staggers under the sudden weight, twisting the heavy circle off his head and flinging it away. “What the fuck.”

“What?” Bill says, with calculated innocence, as a triangular crown-thing rolls across the carpet. “Too much?”

“It’s heavy.” Dipper says, lifting the other weight - what is this, a doily for his shoulders? All interwoven gold, laced with intricate designs. It’s bright and gaudy and - He chucks the thing with a frown. “Okay, even I know this clashes with the suit.”

Bill blows a raspberry, looking annoyed. But he’s not arguing, which always means Dipper’s right. He even vanishes the jewelry with a snap. “More understated, then.”

Whatever’s happening, there’s no way it’s gonna deescalate. As Bill paces, Dipper turns slowly to keep an eye on him, watching for sudden movements. 

This isn’t just some game of dressup. Dipper’s escaped those before. This attention has too much focus, and too little fun. 

No, Bill’s preparing for something. Involving Dipper. 

Maybe it’s another demon event? But Bill hasn’t dragged him to one since the first debacle, and he didn’t need to get decked out for that. If they’re going somewhere, it would probably be demon-related, or -

“Aha!” 

Uh oh. Bill has an idea. 

“You gotta have something of mine. Over the top won’t do for now, so obviously-” He wheels around, back facing Dipper. A swirl of magic stirs in manifestation. “We gotta go subtle.” 

When he turns back, it’s with a flash of silver. One palm outspread with two small, golden studs rolling around. 

The other pinches a bright, sharp needle, flashing in the light.

“Alright, turn your head.” Bill says. Then, at Dipper’s obvious alarm - a sigh. “Aw, come on! Tons of humans have their ears pierced! Two little jabs,” A quick, pointed demonstration has Dipper backpedaling. “And bam! New decoration holes!”

Dipper gives that the skeptical look it deserves. Bill’s smile somehow gets even brighter, eyebrows wiggling. 

No way, no how. He is so done with having any sharp things jabbed into his anywhere.

Problem being, Bill has a plan in mind. One he’s prepped over long hours, and he’s far too clever. Any protest will be met with cajoling and convincing, and somehow, inevitably, wrangle him into doing something dumb that hurts. There’s no point in arguing.. 

So Dipper simply… doesn’t.

“Okay.” He says. Keeping his tone quiet, he ducks his head until his chin nearly hits his chest. “If you. Think I should.”

“You should think it’s cool!” Bill’s voice is still cheerful. Totally upbeat. Anyone less knowledgeable might miss the hint of tension. “Just a coupla pokes and it’s over. Then you get to wear great stuff that looks like me!”

Dipper nods. He does it very slowly, deliberately silent. 

There’s a soft noise. Not quite annoyance, but not frustration either. A few footsteps tap on carpet, coming closer before they abruptly stop. 

Bill lets out a low hiss, then mutters something before finishing his approach. Just a little more, then. 

When he’s within arm’s reach, Dipper looks up. 

He meets Bill’s eye, keeping his own wide. Blinking a few times to moisten them, and wearing the biggest, bravest face. The look of a man ready to do as he’s told even though he’s so, so afraid. 

And for the kicker, Dipper makes his lower lip quiver. Just a tad. 

Striking the balance between ‘tremble’ and ‘deliberately twitch’ is hard; he hopes it lands. Keeping up this stupid expression is hard. 

Bill’s eye twitches, he takes a sharp breath. Lip curling up in a near-sneer, reaching out - 

And with a sound of disgust, he throws the needle directly into the wall. It quivers in place while he groans in disappointment.

“Ugh! Whatever.” Bill stalks away, throwing his arms in the air. “Keep your stupid ears intact.” He  folds his arms over his chest, tapping a bicep with one annoyed finger. “You’re missing out, you know!”

Dipper’s shoulders drop; he loosens his tie again with a relieved sigh. Over by the couch, Bill huffs and puffs and stomps around. He blows out a bunch of words about a certain mortal being a ‘killjoy’, and ‘fashion backward’, and so on and so forth. 

But there’s no real venom in his tone. Only frustration, with a hint of fine whine.

All of that, and Dipper stands where he was. Untouched. No poking or prodding and absolutely no punishment forthcoming. No terrible consequences. 

Incredibly, and impossibly - the ‘sad face’ gambit works. Part of Dipper knew it would, just. The idea that any human emotion could derail Bill Cipher’s plans seemed pretty improbable.

He really can get away with anything, if he plays it right. Being ‘special’ kind of rules. 

For a while, Dipper wasn’t certain about that adjective. He still isn’t, not entirely. Overthinking has led him to stranger places, and growing up among the faithful didn’t help. They made a whole religion from reading into things that weren’t actually there. 

But Bill patched up his wound. Showed him around, gave him a place to live. Worked for weeks to find a way to restore his tongue, an impossible, incredible gift. Add on the dinners, the attention, the conversation and the hanging out. The warm touch so often present-

Bill, in his own, bizarre, insane, and purposefully obscured way - kinda, maybe, cares about what Dipper wants. 

It’s only sometimes. Not always. It’s not perfect or complete. 

But the idea is too weird for Dipper to come up with on his own, and there’s like, a billion tons of evidence.

He watches Bill tap his shoe on the floor, an annoyed but thoughtful beat. Already coming up with some other scheme, now that he’s been temporarily thwarted. 

Special. A strange conceit. It’s a dispensation to do whatever he desires. Whatever limit there is, he hasn’t found the edges yet.

Under any other circumstances, he’d be thrilled.

Except that makes two facts that Dipper knows, and they go all too well together.

As Bill sulks, off in the corner of the room, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets and resolutely does not walk forward.

Touching Bill, especially to reassure his already too-bloated ego, is simply a bad move. Even if he’s always making exceptions for this one useless human.

Even if he has had certain... past proclivities.

Dipper clenches his hands into fists, glaring down at the carpet. Biting his tongue both literally and metaphorically.

Said proclivities don't include people like him.

Bill likes people who are cool and smart and strong. Dipper's only special because... it's probably the birthmark. Something magical, that doesn’t actually mean anything. Acting on his stupid impulses is a terrible, horrible idea. A lesson he should have learned by now. 

Testing a few limits is fine. Pushing them is another, and that’s never, ever worked out in Dipper’s favor, not even once. Even when he thought it was an exception, or had a good reason. 

Getting caught taking too big a step means getting taught not to do it. As firmly as needed.

He can’t risk that. Not with Bill. Not with all he’s done and given him and… everything.

Anyway, it’s probably fine. It’s okay. Insanity is practically normal here, and Dipper absolutely knows how to keep his damn mouth shut.

All he has to do is stop thinking about it. Keep his hands at his sides, and his eyes off Bill’s face, and his everything and just. Stop. Don’t push it. No matter what Bill does, or how close he gets. He can manage that, at least. 

He has to, before Bill figures him out. 

Bill must really be distracted, too, because he’s not making some quick remark at Dipper’s tense posture, or the look on his face. 

“We gotta find you a ‘fit, kid. Don’t get me wrong, this is cute and all -” Bill says, waving over Dipper. Glaring at him gets a smirk in return. “Just not quite what ya want for… certain activities.”

“Any chance you’re going to tell me what those ‘activities’ are?” Dipper knows the lack of an answer already - but he might as well try.

“Eh, you’ll see! Gotta figure out what kinda symbols I can leave on ya, since I know you’re not a robes kinda guy anymore.” Bill pauses when he sees the look on Dipper’s face and snorts. “Don’t worry, sapling. I’ll get this sorted well before your surprise is ready!”

And he winks. 

Dipper stares back at him. The lingering bits of daydream drop away as it’s rudely shoved aside by other, more insidious thoughts.

Symbols. ‘Surprise’.

Robes.

Short and stupid and scared he might be, but the one thing Dipper’s never been is a fool. 

As Bill starts pacing again, he forces a ‘cute’ smile on his face. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Got to delay him. Convince him to delay. Now that he’s caught Bill’s attention, he throws in extra spice by walking in and patting his bicep. “Take your time, okay?”

“Easy, Pine Tree, I got this!” Bill’s chest puffs out the instant Dipper touches his arm. Now muscles flex under Dipper’s palm as Bill pats the back of his hand. “I think we can go with the suit once I getcha the rest of the stuff.”

He rambles on, about ‘symbolism’ and ‘making an impact’. Dipper lets the words wash over him without paying them mind. They’re not important. He needs space and time to think about all the rest of this horrible debacle. 

No time to ask any more questions. Or be here, while Bill sorts his own part out. The picture’s crystal clear. 

“I should go and… do a thing.”

“Sure, sure,” Bill says, waving him off absentmindedly. Already there’s a tangle of ties in his hand; he glares at them like he’s wrangling a bunch of snakes.

Dipper’s room isn’t far. He makes it there easily, and doesn’t even slam the door behind himself. 

With his back against the solid wood, and the demon far behind him, Dipper grits his teeth. “Shit.”

A trip, Bill says. Something ‘fitting’ Bill says. Suggesting gold depictions of himself and flattering attire and the awful goddamn robes. Part of a presentation.

Damn it, he knew this plot was in the works. He just didn’t think it’d come so soon. 

Bill’s bringing him back there. Back to earth, and to everyone back at - 

The stupid tie is too tight. Dipper pulls it off and over his head, swearing as he throws it aside. Whatever. Bill’s going to replace it, anyway. 

Dipper lived in that conclave for… well, as long as he can remember. His parent’s aren’t part of it, either they left or died or - hell, maybe they were sacrificed. He doesn’t know and nobody ever answered when he asked. 

Two decades of chanting and conforming and absolute idiocy. A lifetime of never knowing what was going on, yet always knowing too much. Years and years of the same halls and the same people and the same place. 

The conformity, of course, was by design. When he was in the cult, everyone was supposed to meld into their molds. Everyone else did, taking their places, following the strict scripture. And even with everything pushing him into place, Dipper still stood out like a sore to be picked at until it bled. 

Just him. Set apart, somehow, even in identical clothing. Belonging to, but never with.

He thought he was done with that place, damn it.

He still can picture the walls of his room, and the dust on stone. The musty concrete and rickety furniture of the aboveground buildings. He can smell the candle wax, even now, cloying and - 

Swearing, Dipper slaps a palm over the candle on his desk, snuffing it out even as it stings his palm. 

Deep breaths. Calming, careful ones. Eyes open so he can see his hands on the wood of the desk, and feel the lacquer curl up under his fingernails.

Not having to think about where he came from took a weight off he didn’t realize he was carrying. Going back is - 

This has just thrown him off a bit, that’s all. Too many memories. A little bit of shoving and he can shut that mental door again.

If only he’d had more time to prepare, this wouldn’t be so bad. Didn’t Bill suggest it only, like, a couple weeks ago? A week, maybe? Time’s hard to keep track of, and the idea felt so distant. Like they’d never get around to it.

Now time is limited. As is Bill’s patience. Maybe he could keep him waffling about one tie color or another, that’d last a good few hours. 

Only once he’s done, they’re still going to go. 

Getting revenge. Everything he dreamed of, curled up in bed and aching and full of helpless anger, finally possible with the power he’s been granted. Bill Cipher by his side should only be a bonus.

Except now there’s pressure because it’s not a dream, and not just Dipper yelling at everyone with his newfound tongue. 

Bill Cipher is gonna be there and if Dipper knows anything about the guy - 

It’s that he’s going to want to make it a whole damn show. 

He’ll want to pick the place apart. Including very last dramatic twist and turn Bill finds entertaining -

And Dipper has to participate. 

Before anything else, he has to find his other notes. Why didn’t he get a folder or something? All the papers are scattered over the desk, piles sitting unsorted in the drawers. He kneels beside the left hand drawer and tries to figure out where the hell he put those spells. 

On paper, scribbled spells remain half-finished. A few concepts he didn’t even get to That stage on, suggestions with question marks at the end. A quick little sketch of the priest with the knife in his chest and Xs for eyes.

Dipper really should have prepared for ‘vengeance’ better. Especially since he knew it was coming. 

It’s just…

Clutching the papers in his hands, Dipper tries to think of what to do - then winces, smoothing the papers back out on the desk. 

Part of him thought maybe they could forget to do this for, y’know. Maybe another two decades or so. About as much time as Dipper spent in the stupid cult himself. That’d be equal. Practically equilateral, even.

Is it too much to ask to stay here? Where things are chaotic as hell, but actively don’t suck?

Maybe it is. Bill would think that’s too boring.

That’s what Dipper gets for hoping, he guesses. The clock ran out when he wasn’t paying attention. Now he has to muddle through and hope it doesn’t go sideways. Like everything else. 

Judging by the sounds from the living room, Bill’s stopped pacing in thought. The eerie silence is broken by cackling laughter. 

Dipper has maybe ten minutes, give or take a few. 

He shuffles the scraps of spells around the desk, discarding this one and that. Most of these aren’t feasible, either too complicated or not even revenge-related. That might not matter if Bill takes over everything. Pretty likely he will, too, since that’s his whole deal.

And the things he can imagine Bill doing are… 

Maybe he won’t go that far. They’re all terrible idiots and cruel and… and just stupid - but he won’t be that annoyed, surely. 

Good thing, too. Dipper learned all about Bill’s wrath, even before he met the guy. Without him being really pissed, though…. That doesn’t leave much cover. Dipper’s going to have to be careful not to draw his attention, lest Bill notice that he’s…

Shit, who is he kidding. Bill will take the lead, but Dipper will have to participate, somehow. He’s already dressed up for the occasion. 

Damn it, what does Bill want from him? 

Dipper can’t do stuff that’s too complicated. Power is easy enough to come by, but finesse is another. Even then, he’d still need a concept to work with, and Dipper’ss not sure he can manage, without anger pushing him on. Some of the old ideas that seemed so perfect back in the day just make him feel sick.

Everything’s a muddle. Dipper has basically nothing that’s not stomach-churning doodles or a half-scrap of experimental spellcraft. This one he doesn’t think he can pull off, and one that…. He was angry when he wrote that. Thinking about the stump of his tongue after a bad dream, one that wasn’t Bill’s fault. 

Actually…

The framework of this other spell isn’t bad. A curse, of sorts. One that’s dumb, and kind of silly - but it might have something to it.

Time to get to work. 

Dipper loses himself in the equations, lines of text and runes, coming together neatly in thin little columns. 

He’s good at this. He knows he is. As one of the few magic users in the cult, Dipper found brief moments of respite when he got to do this. Nobody would bother him. Not when he was the best. And what he made could never be used on him. It was calm. Quiet. So, so safe. 

And the process of solving a problem, seeing the result full and complete in front of him, has always been very satisfying. 

The door slams open. Dipper nearly stabs his thumb with the pen, swearing in surprise. 

Shit. Fuck. He’s out of time, he has, like. One completed curse idea, and it’s the dumbest one he had in store. 

Why didn’t he prepare for this.

“Found it!” Bill exclaims, waving a hideously gaudy golden tie in the air.  “Ready or not, here we go!”

And what can Dipper say to that.

“No need to fret, sapling. They all know we’re coming already!” Bill waves off the worries in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. “There are people who’ve dreamt of this moment.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know why that would be. Or where they’re going, if Dipper didn’t know already. An anvil would drop more lightly than that hint.

He gets up from his chair. Lets Bill put the new tie on him, and adjust his shirt. Looking just over Bill’s shoulder and a bit to his left. 

All the while, Bill goes on and on about thinking about this for ages’ and ‘way easier to mess with ‘believers’’ and ‘no time like the solstice, am I right?’

Okay. That’s that. This is what Bill wants to do, so they’re doing it. It can’t take very long, either; At worst it’s a few hours and Dipper can turn his head away from any messy parts. 

Dipper nods whenever it sounds like something important was said. Bill’s wearing his typical yellow, he notices. Dressed about as sharply and cleanly as Dipper’s seen, like he’s just gotten back from the dry cleaners.

They’re going. Actually going. 

No more delays, no clever excuses. Heading to Earth and that one particular set of caverns. 

No escape. 

What will it be like, after all this time? The priest is gone. That has to have changed things. Has someone taken his place, or are they arguing about who’s in charge? Is Bill leading everything, now that he’s paying attention? He could if he put in some effort, but how would that change things? If he’s even bothered at all.  

Of course, if Bill’s been messing with the cultists - and he’s admitted as much - then one thing’s certain. They’ll be very worked up. Practically in a state of fervor.

Dipper’s only seen that a few times in his life, it’s pretty rare. The one event where everyone really got hyped up was …

He rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand.

The sound of a creaking doorknob catches his attention. At some point they entered the living room; Dipper startles a bit as Bill pulls him to the door out of the penthouse, wide open in front of them.

“First things first - back to your crapsack planet.” Bill reaches in for a cheek pinch, then looks surprised when Dipper doesn’t dodge. He tilts his head, shrugging that off. “You’ll be doing the honors, of course.”

“Yes, my lord.” Dipper says on automatic. He catches the look on Bill’s face and grimaces. “I mean, yeah. Sure.”

There’s a long moment where Bill simply. Looks at him. His gaze feels like it could penetrate into Dipper’s brain, reading down to his deepest thoughts - 

And shit, that can’t happen. Too much pushing and Bill could learn that he’s -

“So what do I do?” Dipper interrupts before Bill can delve too deep. He pastes a smile on his face, and hopes it comes across as sincere. “Is it like - a spell, or  an artifact, or a gesture, or-”

“Ha!” Bill claps his shoulder, grinning again. Distracted. Good. “Nah, it’s easier than that! Here-” And he takes Dipper’s hands in his, elegant fingers tracing along them. “Lemme show you.”

And it is easy. Surprisingly so. 

One nudge of magic against magic, and Dipper sees what to do. Lit up by Bill’s power, pouring down his arms and into his chest. Like a switch he can flip, except inside. He’d never noticed it before.

“Oh.” He looks up at Bill, eyes wide. Shit, of course, he’s got the birthmark. He can do that, and it’s -. “Wow.”

Bill grins back at him. “Whatd’ya say, kid? We gonna get going or what?”

If only ‘or what’ was an option. 

Dipper nods, once. Concentrates, hard. And -

The transition is, for lack of a better term, wibbly. Dipper suddenly empathizes with a sheet of laminated paper, except when *he* shakes the sound is only internal. He clings to Bill’s arms as the room around them shifts.  Light stings his eyes; he has to squint and shade them. 

“See? No big deal!” Bill says, with deep approval. “Even got pretty close to the goal!”

They’re in… 

He can see a tree nearby, kind of sparse. A footpath, and grass, and - there are a lot of buildings, not too far away. But they don’t look like anything like the ones in the compound. Too large, too complicated. 

It looks like they’re in… a grassy clearing? A park, maybe? Some bit of green amongst the bustle of a goddamn city. 

This is… Not where he thought they’d end up. 

He reels on Bill, and the shock must be evident on his face because he’s smirking. “Wait, this isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?” Bill says, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re an amateur, kid. I might not do the transfer, but I can jog your elbow on the steering.”

Interesting, but. This isn’t the place he was expecting, not by a long shot. “I just thought-”

“Thought what?” Bill asks, almost teasingly. The look he’s wearing says that he knows Dipper’s caught onto his plan, but that being cryptic is way more fun than fessing up. He claps Dipper on the back. “No point in starting things off on an empty stomach. We’re doing brunch first.”

With that said, he takes Dipper’s hand in his own, and yanks him forward into the bustling streets. 

Dipper follows in a daze. There’s a city outside of the compound, an hour or two away - but he’d never seen it. Only heard about it in whispered rumors. That it was terrible and filthy and full of sin, a place too dangerous to even think about. 

He grips Bill’s hand tighter, dawdling behind him as he takes in the view. 

He never thought it would look like this. 

The buildings are so tall. The roads are so busy, and the *people* - Dipper’s never seen this many people before, walking the sidewalks and hanging at bus stops, milling in and out of buildings. The sound of the cars is practically deafening but nobody else seems to react. 

Even the Fearamid isn’t this busy unless there’s a party going on. Everything’s noise and light and not-so-great smells of pure, busy humanity. There’s so many people around that even Dipper could disappear into that huge mass of bodies.

Clutching Bill’s arm still seems like the best option, though. Just so he doesn’t wander off and leave Dipper standing alone in the streets.

“Boy, that craphole cult was real repressive, wasn’t it?” Bill sounds deeply amused. He pats Dipper’s hand, leading him into some restaurant. Dipper’s never been in a restaurant, how do they do this-  “Later on we gotta bring you to an actual metropolis. Culture shock’s a cute look on you!”

Hold on, Dipper’s not shocked. Just. A little thrown, that’s all. 

Bill did have a point, though. Brunch is excellent.

The spread is almost better than Bill’s place, though mostly because it’s thematically consistent. Dipper stares wide eyed at the crowd, listening to their conversations and stuffing his face with french toast. Bill, meanwhile, downs several glasses of something orange and fizzy. 

Before too long - Bill keeping the conversation flowing, Dipper almost certainly acting like he’s some…. Country hick or something, with all the staring he’s doing - Bill gets up, and pats him on the shoulder.

Dipper glances down at an empty plate. Frowning faintly. They’ve only been here, like, an hour, maybe two. There’s more to the city, he’s sure; he hasn’t seen even a single percent of what he wants to - 

But fine. Bill says go, then Dipper’s gotta get up and follow.  

They head out on the busy streets. Bill seems totally in place here, even though he should stand out like a sore thumb - or maybe he does, because a lot of people are backing away from him as he strides down the sidewalk..

The garage is another surprise, and the third is when a nervous old man hands Bill the keys to a bright red car without a top on it. Something out of date, even to Dipper’s inexperienced eyes. Possibly from the last time he was on Earth, which would make it - Dipper doesn’t even know how old.

Either way, there’s no time. Before he can ask too many questions or even think too much, they’re driving at a high speed down the highway. 

Already on the move. Just like Bill; he doesn’t stay still often, he has too much energy. Kind of a shame really. Dipper could have spent a lot longer in town than just brunch. 

Dipper watches the buildings go by, chin resting in his hand. Sure, that was. A Lot. But he’s used to dealing with things that are A Lot by now.

And it was… Beautiful. Messy and complicated and beautiful.

Why does Bill want to change reality? It already has plenty of chaos. Even if it’s not Bill’s type, or not enough for him - so what?  He has the Fearamid for that. A multidimensional pyramid larger than three of those huge skyscrapers put together, packed with thousands of demons who all obey his whims. 

All his power, and all the chaos he could possibly conjure. Bill has plenty of everything he wants, and Dipper got, like, three hours of seeing the place. Fascinating, busy stuff that Bill would bulldoze over on the slightest whim, before he could - 

It’s not fair. 

Bill drives on blithely, as Dipper hunches over in his seat. He must not be reading Dipper’s mind, because he isn’t reacting to the incredibly heretical thoughts bubbling up.

Like how it isn’t fair that Bill has fucking everything. All the power and the knowledge and the immortality. The sheer confidence to see what he wants, and take it. 

Even with everything going for him, Bill’s still not satisfied. Nothing will ever be enough, including his own bed of chaos and destruction, he has to take and want and consume. He always wants more. 

Dipper grips the seatbelt. It cuts into his palms; he holds on tighter. 

Earth isn’t Bill’s, and it has to stay that way. He doesn’t need this place. Ruining stuff for a tiny bit fun is just… evil.

Somebody should stop him. 

A light touch on Dipper’s arm has him flinching. It’s just Bill, though. Taking Dipper by the wrist and prying until the deathgrip on the seatbelt relaxes. He laces his fingers through Dipper’s, whistling a cheerful tune.

Dipper relaxes a fraction. He sits back in his seat, and gives Bill’s hand a squeeze.

Not like, stop-stop him, though. More like… whack him with a broom, or rolled-up newspaper until he stops goddamn sniffing around someone else’s stuff. 

Good thing he can’t actually take over Earth, then. Whatever keeps Bill in line, Dipper hopes it sticks to him like glue.

Then Bill laughs, and Dipper jolts against the seatbelt, gripping the car for dear life as they screech around a corner. On the straightaway they slow down a tad; The trees are less a blur. Dipper can make out each individual one again. 

His heart still beats fast, a rapid rabbiting pace. 

They’re close. He can tell. Something in the air, the scent of it. That one large tree in the distance, and it’s not like Bill’s going to turn around for him. They’re too deep in at this point, heading back to -

There it is.

He can see the buildings, low and almost ramshackle compared to the town. The heavy canvas of some surface tents, the metal doors to the lower cavern passages, where the main bulk of the cult resides and  - judging by the time - likely is in the middle of their mid-afternoon devotions. 

Bill slows the car, turning in a lazy semi-circle to head towards the entrance. He hums for a moment, then slows to a stop. Apparently thinking over their approach. 

Time for contemplation. That’s a first. Not that Dipper’s going to complain; even a brief reprieve gives him time to think. 

Frankly, he’s not sure how they’ll get in... But it’s not like there’s a lot in their way, either.

The fence around the compound is barely seven feet tall. Chain link wire with a lock on the gate. It ropes around the buildings, all encompassing - but very, very thin.

And from the outside, it looks so… Small. 

Months ago Dipper would have said it was impossible to pass. Climbable, yes - but then where would he go? Into the world, with all the heretics and criminals, the sinful mass of man? Where he knew nobody, and had nothing? A world of trouble and terror and people who could hurt him. Too many unknowns to risk.

After spending time with Bill, though, he can see it as the demon would - absolutely pathetic. 

There isn’t even razor wire on top. 

Kind of funny, really, that what keeps the cultists in is more mental than physical. Literally the only thing that even vaguely fits their ‘god’, and they weren’t even trying.

Then he hears the engine rev. Bill gives his hand a squeeze, turning towards him with a vicious grin, as the car accelerates at a terrifying speed, running straight towards -

“Wait! You’re going to hit-!” Dipper says, at the same time he realizes that’s the point.

The fence crashes down around them with a tangle of twisted metal and a noise so loud that it must be audible even underground. Bill laughs like a madman, spinning the car around to a stop in the midst of the buildings in a smoking circle. For the seventh time today, Dipper’s extremely glad he put on his seatbelt.

“Woo!” Bill exclaims, turning off the ignition and leaping over the driver’s side to stand on the ground. He sets fists on his hips, examining the compound like a particularly interesting new piece of land to conquer.  “Nothing like a bit of wanton destruction to start off the day, am I right?”

Dipper’s still too rattled to move; he feels around for the latch to the seatbelt. Once it’s undone, he simply. Sits in place. He needs a moment. 

“No sense dallying, kid.” Striding around the car, Bill opens the door and half-helps, half-lifts Dipper bodily out of the seat. “We got a lot of vengeance to take!”

Dipper hesitates. Then he nods, not sure what to say.

Bill glances at him. A quick once over, then a big bright smile. “See? You’re fine.” Another quick pat on the back, then a palm pressing against it as he steers Dipper around the car and forward. “Ready or not, here we come!”

The packed earth of the conclave kicks up dust under Dipper’s feet. It’s getting all over his shoes. He feels a little pang - Bill really wanted him to look presentable, and now it’s getting all messed up. He should maybe go back to the car and try and clean it up - 

Another insistent push. Dipper straightens his back, pulling his arms around to his front while he still can. Before - no, Bill wouldn’t grab like that, or drag him along the dirt. Not after getting him dressed up, it’d ruin all the work he put in.

Right. And he’s not in trouble, this time. Bill’s - it’s fine. He has to remember that.

Dipper forces his head up, glancing around the buildings.

Welp. Here they are. Back at the cult. The sight and the surroundings and the smell of the place bring memories bubbling to the surface. 

And their dramatic entrance caught considerable attention, because the doors to the caverns slam open with a resounding ‘clang’. 

Two bulky cultists storm out - no robes, just ‘regular’ clothing, ready to investigate the interlopers - then screech to a halt as they see their God approach. Dipper swears their heels leave tracks in the dirt. 

“Hey, fellas,” Bill says, with a too-casual wave. “Didja miss me? I know you missed me!”

Dipper watches their expressions change, from stony focus to wide-eyed alarm. One of them drops to his knees, while the other stays still as a statue. 

“Now that’s what I like to see.” Bill heads over to the two shocked humans, pulling Dipper along in his wake. He sets hands on his hips, smirking. “Ahem. Proper deference is due, dontcha think?”

He snaps his fingers, and the other grunt buckles. He hits the ground, knees first, then flops over nearly on his face, both hands pressed together in prayer, with sweat building on his thick forehead. 

Oh hey.  Dipper knows these guys. 

He’d almost forgotten - how could he forget - that these were the two that pulled him up to the altar. For his ‘sacrifice’. Where he nearly…

A quick glance over at Bill shows no recognition. But then - right, he wasn’t there for most of that. And most humans are beneath his notice. 

“Much better,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. Pulling Dipper along behind him, he strides past the two guards. One of them groans; Dipper barely catches Bill’s leg pull back from what was a very solid kick.

Sunlight dips out of view as they head down the stairs. It’s cooler underground, though not by much so far. Even then Dipper feels oddly clammy. He keeps wiping his hands on his clothes and still they feel cold and damp.

Here they go, then. 

Now it’s time to show off all he’s learned, and the power he has now. The gifts Bill has given him, and the favor he’s been shown. 

Dipper swallows, though it’s difficult. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth. 

Behind the ‘welcoming committee’, a small crowd of robed figures huddles on the cavern steps. One yelps at the sight of Bill, whispering about ‘prophecy’. Another, younger man scuttles off, calling down the hallways. The rest stare at Bill with a mix of stunned looks, and absolute reverence. 

Dipper knows these people, too. A couple of the older group, a few younger. The middle-aged man with the weasley too-eager look; frankly Dipper’s surprised he’s here, instead of back at the altar. He would have sworn that that guy was planning on stabbing the priest before Bill did, and for more ambitious reasons. 

“What are you doing. Our lord has come to us!” The ambitious one hisses, tucking the hood of his robe up and elbowing the other cultists around him. “Be presentable for him.”

There’s a quiet rush to cover up faces; adjusting trinkets and bowing in a rush. Dipper watches the pale, shocked face of one of his classmates, too stunned to pull up her hood until an older man shoves it on with enough force to nearly topple her. 

A gentle tug on Dipper’s wrist catches his attention. He turns towards Bill, blinking up at a wide, wicked grin. 

“Y’know, I didn’t really get a good look at the place before, kid.” Bill says, lifting his chin to survey the winding tunnels of the cavern. He squeezes Dipper’s wrist. “Before we start the main event - how ‘bout a little tour?”

Dipper hesitates. That’s not very exciting, but. It’s true that Bill sort of showed up and dipped out without looking around. He’s a curious guy. He would want to take a look with his own eyes, not just the images of them. 

Another tug, followed by a teasing nudge. “What, you forget your way around?”

Dipper shakes his head, but before he can figure out what to say, the ambitious man steps forward. 

“My lord,” He simpers, bowing so low he nearly loses his balance. “A mere acolyte - a blasphemer - does not deserve the honor of guiding you. Let me-”

His words cut off abruptly. Bill moves lightning-fast, and his grip on the exposed throat slams skull against the stone wall.  

The man squirms at the end of Bill’s arm like a worm on a hook. His eyes bulge out, stark white in the bright red of his face as he scrambles for purchase, both trying to find his footing and not daring to claw at his ‘god.’ The hand on his neck tightens further, a sickening squeeze. Flesh bulges between Bill’s fingers like dough. 

“If I wanted your opinion,” Bill hisses, teeth bared in something not-quite a smile. “I’d scoop it outta your skull with a dessert spoon.” 

There’s a wet noise;something cartilaginous crunches, and Dipper shuts his eyes. His knuckles have gone white where he’s holding Bill’s arm. 

“Ha!” Bill sounds amused. There’s some thumping, then a ‘thud’ as he lets the body drop.  “Boy, humans are squishy.” 

The girl cultist hiccups, in a way that suggests she’s about to cry, wavering like she’ll fall. All the rest have backed away, sticking to the walls like barnacles. 

Dipper makes a low sound in the back of his throat.  All he gets in return is a quick flash of smile, and a pat on his hand as the last struggles die down at the end of Bill’s arm. 

“Figures. Some jackasses just can’t mind their own business!” Bill says, rolling his eye. “But enough with that, kid. Let’s get going!”

Yes, definitely, absolutely. Dipper nods again, holding tight to Bill’s arm and shuffling past the robed and staring cultists. 

Anything to get away from that. 

A tour, though. There’s very little that can go wrong with that, because there’s not a ton to see. Dipper can walk him around some tunnels and wave at the poorly decorated rooms. Then it’ll be done, and they can-

At some point the other, unstrangled cultists started trailing in their wake Dipper does a double-take when he notices, and catches a glance of his classmate, and her wide, wet, slightly reddened eyes. 

He can’t believe that after all of… that, they’re still following. 

“So! Why not start with your digs?” Bill nudges him with an elbow, with a teasing smile. Like he’s completely forgotten . “I’ve been meaning to see how you lived it up!”

The pointy bit of his elbow hits Dipper’s ribs, and he doesn’t flinch. This is fine, and normal. It’s not a punishment.

Bringing him to his old room though… He doesn’t think Bill would like that.

Dipper shakes his head, once. Lips pursed together, not sure how to explain. 

That it’s not… the guest room back at Bill’s place is better. This one was ransacked before he even left. If Bill wants to know more about him, he could just barge into Dipper’s new room and figure everything out. 

For some reason, Bill’s looking at him weird. 

After a moment, he nudges Dipper in the side again, smiling wider.. “Can’t be anything I haven’t seen before, sapling. I’ve been all around the multiverse!” He throws an arm out before him.  “Lead the way!”

An order. 

Dipper straightens up. He can’t exactly disobey that. Not in front of - Bill asked him to do it. It’s not that big a deal. Maybe it won’t be bad. 

And it’s not like he can stop their ‘tour’ now.

Word must have gotten out about their arrival by this point. The messenger did his work. Still doing it, actually; Dipper can hear him calling out and knocking on doors, and the bustle of footsteps on stone goes from a few taps to a quiet thunder. 

Their company hasn’t left to join the summons. A few more have peeked out of their rooms, a small bustle of robes behind them. Looking for signs from this incredible supernatural being. Taking in their every move.

The back of Dipper’s shirt is cool with sweat. Hopefully it doesn’t show through the suit. Bill wouldn’t like that. 

He guides Bill Cipher along the halls of the conclave, feet treading familiar stone. Even through these thick-soled shoes, he knows every inch of this uneven rock. He never misplaces a step. 

Bill doesn’t stumble either. Not even once. In that his recovery’s so fast that almost nobody would notice, if he wasn’t holding tight to Dipper. 

And that’s how a god should be. Unapproachable, untouchable. Never a single flaw. A firm hand, holding him on his upper arm, guiding the believer with perfect knowledge.

Despite everything, Dipper’s still not a believer - but he hopes his expression is appropriately devout. Bill’s right beside him, yet he’s the one leading the way. A sheep leading a wolf.

Gotta make it look good. For Bill. That’s what he wants.

Getting to his old room doesn’t take long. It’d be nice if there were more hallways to meander, and put this off.

But Bill did order it andDipper hasn’t forgotten his place. He doesn’t think he ever could. 

As they pass by the dormitories, he slows to a near crawl. Bill casts another glance over, then rolls his eyes. 

“What’s with the dawdling?” Bill says, bright and amused. He jogs Dipper’s arm in a playful waggle “Too many pictures of me? Some racy sketches?”

Dipper purses his lips, and doesn’t dignify that with an answer. He shrugs instead. 

Bill lets out a sharp breath, but doesn’t add on. There’s that faint frown again, brow furrowed. Not in a ‘disappointment at no banter’ way, something different.  Dipper can’t place it.

Not that he has time to work it out. They’re here. 

He lurches to a stop in front of his old room. Bill makes a confused noise, looking between Dipper and the crowd behind him. Then, squinting, at the door to his left.

“What, that’s it?” Bill glances between the entrance and Dipper. “No, ‘come on in’, or ‘oh no, don’t go in there’? Not even a ‘home, sweet, home’?”

It’s so hard for Dipper not to bite his lip. He’s glad he doesn’t, though; his teeth are gritted so hard they would snip right through.

This is just a place he stayed, once. It’s not a great one, not even a good one. He never belonged here. 

There’s a beat of silence, then - Bill lets out a huff. The metal hinges creak as he pushes the door open, and storms into Dipper’s former lodgings with a grunt. 

Dipper hovers near the doorway, but doesn’t enter. He already knows every inch of the place. There’s nothing else he needs to see. 

Two steps in, Bill pauses. Probably because there wasn’t enough space to truly storm in. 

For a moment, he even looks… surprised? 

Dipper frowns. Like. What was he expecting, another palace? It’s pretty much the same as any other low-ranking member; if anything Dipper was lucky it wasn’t a literal cell. 

Bill takes another step, pausing in the middle of the room. Stalks forward a few paces, then seems to measure the length and breadth of it with his steps. His shoe taps a fast rhythm on the floor, and Dipper sees his eye twitch - then he turns. Touching the back wall, where admittedly there are a few marks. 

No Bills, though. Just tallies from the days Dipper wasn’t allowed out. There aren’t too many, really. It could have been worse. 

Dipper turns to let Bill do… whatever he’s doing, without being spied on - then instantly turns back. 

He rests his head on the cold stone, just near the doorway. Inside, he can hear Bill muttering something under his breath. 

The little group of cultists tagging along has swelled to a pretty decent one. Dozens of people packing the halls, with tentative whispers and quiet mutters of reverence. Watching everything Bill does, albeit with some confusion as to why he’s poking around some loser’s room. 

And Dipper, too. 

They know him, same as he knows them. A familiarity borne of years of experience. And while yes, he did disappear in the presence of their god - he’s still the same person. He’s been here since he was young, running carelessly around the halls and getting his robes tangled. They’ve had years of hearing what he said, and memories of the ceremony. Where absolutely everyone had to attend. 

Clothes aren’t going to fool them. They see who he really is. 

This blasphemer, sticking out like a sore thumb next to the elegance of their god, and he can’t… What if they aren’t wrong, for once.

Any moment now they’ll raise their voices, loud and ringing with chants, and he’ll be back in that room alone. Locked in and - 

“Ha!” Bill storms out of the chamber, snorting and taking Dipper by the shoulder. “Whatever. You’ve got plenty of cool stuff back at my place!” 

One firm pat nearly sends Dipper reeling; he wasn’t braced for it. He straightens up and looks attentive. 

Everyone’s watching. Best behavior, no slipups. 

Bill watches him, head cocked to one side. He’s got a weird expression on his face. Smiling, but thinly. A tension around his eye that - He looks away before Dipper can get a good look. 

“Gotta say though, I’m not impressed,” Bill says, turning a look to the crowd. Their bodies shuffle against each other in terrified silence, before his eye flicks back to Dipper. “But hey, I’ve seen worse! Mostly when I’ve caused it!”

Dipper keeps staring at the opposite wall. He doesn't want to see anyone’s faces, even in the shadow of their hoods.

Bill mutters something under his breath, then says, “Let’s get going.”

And so the tour continues. Despite everything. 

They pass the dining hall - Bill scoffs, and drags a finger through today’s basic food. He makes a disgusted face at the thin oatmeal dripping from his finger, before barging into the back kitchen and coming back with fresh donuts. 

He offers one to Dipper, who recoils without taking it. That’s for high-ranking members, not - He can’t. Turning his head away, he shuffles backwards into the hall. 

They’re touring, not having snacks. Best to move on before Bill can throw a fit about whatever he decides isn’t worthwhile this time. 

Bill thankfully moves on when Dipper leaves the room. A little quieter, with that thread of tension drawn a little more tight. can almost feel all his eyes activating, a subtle thrum of power that rings in his senses and has the cultists trailing them let out whispers of prayer. 

There’s nothing that interested him most places; he skips half the rooms Dipper tries to usher him into, striding past in a manner that brooks no argument. 

Dipper should protest. He keeps a steady pace instead, stuffing his hands in the uncomfortable pockets of his suit.

Why can’t they just get things over with now. Nearly everyone’s here, and the others could be gathered shortly in the altar room. It’d take like, five minutes, they’ll do what they came for and it’ll be done.

When they reach the library though. That’s a hit. 

Though not for the reasons their tagalongs would want. 

“Seriously?” Bill scoffs. He thumbs through the several-decade outdated volume, looking wryly amused. “This is the kinda crap they keep around for education?”

And despite everything - Dipper has to let out a snort. God, he wishes he was joking. It’s the worst.

Bill looks up sharply, eye suddenly alight with mischief. “Knew you’d agree, kid,“ He says, warmly smug. And winks. “Oughta show ‘em what this kind of crap deserves!”

With that said, he pulls out a book, throwing it over his shoulder. It lands with a crack, spine splitting, and several pages come loose from their leaves. 

Dipper leaps into action, seizing the book and making a grab at the pages. Before he can start stuffing it back back on the shelf, another one lands nearby. Then another. A third rockets past him, already on fire, and slops to a stop near the opposite bookshelf. Smoke starts to rise from the shelved volumes.

Bill cackles in delight. His rampage continues, careless of whatever happens and whoever has to sort out his goddamn mess. 

“Hey, what’s the problem? It’s all bullshit, anyway.” Bill says, turning to see Dipper scrambling to put out the growing flames. “C’mon, kid! Have some fun!”

He can’t have fun when things are messed up. People are going to get really upset. 

This catalog is supposed to be neat and orderly and undamaged, that was one of the very few responsibilities Dipper was trusted with back when he lived here, and half a minute into Bill being here it’s all going wrong. 

Even if Dipper wasn’t the one to do it, he was nearby when it happened. That’s close enough. 

But Bill’s too fast - Dipper has to race to get things back in order against a being of literal chaos, and he can’t keep up. There’s too much.

Vaguely he hears Bill say something else, but he’s not paying attention. He shoves another book back in place, bending down to scoop up another couple into his arms. One slips out of his grasp and he tries to get it again, only for more to fumble out of his hold. 

“Hey.” A loud voice. Then, louder, “HEY!”

Dipper’s yanked back up onto his feet, and the last of the books tumbles out of his arms. He looks up at Bill, and realizes that at some point he started breathing too fast, and too hard. Now he’s lightheaded, on top of being worried.

“That’s enough.” Bill says, voice flat. 

Dipper lets the last book drop from his arms, and holds very, very still. 

Shit. Shit. shit. He’s screwed up, things aren’t going nearly as smoothly as advertised, and now there’s going to be -

“Finally! Friggin’ useless goddamn-” Bill growls, sneering at the bookshelves and probably not at the useless goddamn acolyte, slightly shaking in front of him. “What’d’ya say we get moving?” 

Dipper nods. 

Bill looks at him with clear frustration, and gives him a jostle. 

Dipper nods again, more fervently. Yes, of course, he’s moving. They’re moving. Tour, yes, right. Back to the hallway. Another room, another show. His legs feel like they’re being puppeted, marching up and down on automatic. 

They pass by rooms, and caverns. Most bits of the cult Bill doesn’t seem interested in, so he moves on. They linger for a full few minutes at the priest’s old quarters - he doesn’t barge in like Bill does, waiting outside as is proper - but when Bill comes back out he can see the smoke rising in the room. 

Again, he’s taken in hand by a strong grip. Again, he marches. 

And with that painfully tight grip on his upper arm, the imposing figure behind hm, Dipper finds himself standing in front of a place he thought he’d never, ever, ever, ever have to go back to. 

Bill didn’t lead him to this place, his feet did. Happening on automatic, before it had time to become a thought. 

And = this time’s different. Bill wouldn't, he’s sure. He can get away this time. He doesn’t have to be here, nothing has been done wrong under Cipher’s all-seeing eye. It’s fine. 

He almost manages to step away before Bill’s grip  holds him short. 

“Oh? What’s this?” Bill says. Back to his lighter tone, genuinely curious. The poke at his ribs is probably intended to be playful. “This place a favorite of yours?”

He waits for a response. When he doesn’t get one for several seconds, he tries the door - locked. Frowning, Bill knocks on the door with a knuckle in a quick demanding rap. 

The door creaks open. The smell of cleaning chemicals doesn't quite cover other, deeper scents.

The elder scourger squints over his glasses, then wipes them on his shirt. Putting them back on, he looks at the crowd, then startles at Bill. Bowing deep, muttering some of the chants -  

Then his eye sets on Dipper, and he breaks out in a knowing grin. 

“Ah, I see the problem, my lord. I’ve handled this one before, always up to no good. Not surprised you had trouble with him.” He sets blunt fists on his hips, knuckles cracking under the pressure. “How many lashes today?”

Bill cocks his head to one side. Tapping his finger with a chin, and  letting out a long, thoughtful hum. 

It only takes a few moments for him to come to a conclusion, and then the flashing white of his smile is blinding. “Oh, there’s gonna be loads of ‘em! Oodles of beatings!” He says, bright and airy. Dipper feels his hand lift from his shoulder and pat his chest, pushing him back. “But I think I'll take care of the troublemaker myself.”

Is it possible to go so cold you die? Dipper doesn’t know if he’s breathing, or if his heart is beating, stiff and still like a statue. 

Then Bill kicks the elder directly in the chest, sending him toppling back into the correction room. Startled swearing rings against stone, along with a clatter of something toppling over. 

Dipper blinks, twice. He looks up. 

Bill sucks in a breath through his teeth, letting it out in a low hiss. The warm hand on Dipper’s chest eases him back until he feels rough stone behind him. He flashes a smile, and winks. “Wait here, kid.”

For a moment Dipper’s confused - he’s not in the room, and now Bill is, charging forward with furious intent, so. What was he saying about - 

The door slams shut. Silence.

Then a scream rings out, muffled by stone - and higher-pitched than it should be, from a grown man. 

Dipper presses up harder against the wall. Every inch of the stone is cool, growing cold against the damp shirt on his back. 

Noises barely heard through the cracks around the door. Ones he’s made before, words half-formed. Pleading, too, and cursing, that’s pretty common. Dipper’s said things he didn’t mean, when he was being corrected, it’s not surprising that someone else would. 

Strangely, Dipper can look off into nothingness. Letting the sounds all pass over and through him, like half-watching something on the TV back at Bill’s. It is happening, in a way, but one that’s distant and fake. No different than anything on that awful drama, or one of Bill’s preferred horror flicks.

Eventually it’s pretty quiet. Dipper’s glad that awful scene is over, it dragged out too long. 

Though even though the punishment’s over, he still hears wet, meaty thuds. 

Even Bill reemerging doesn’t affect him. Though he’s breathing hard, and the bright speckles on the suit jacket slung over his shoulder might as well be colorful paint, instead of - 

Dipper looks at the opposite wall again. Letting it all play out. 

Bill snaps something to one of the crowd, tugging his shirtsleeves back down from their rolled-up position. There’s a quiet response, one that makes him frown as he wipes his hands clean with a damp cloth. 

“So!” Bill says. Very bright. Far too bright, a forced enthusiasm. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I even gave him the ironic fate treatment! Kinda cool, huh?”

Dipper looks at his beaming face - too wide, clearly forced - then drops his gaze to Bill’s lapels. Three red dots are on his collar. A small amount, considering. They even look like they’ve already dried. 

“Hello, you listening? That guy is never gonna lay a finger or anything else on you, ever again.” He tilts Dipper’s head up with one knuckle, smiling more gently. “Seems like cause for celebration to me!”

Though his hands are clean, he might not have gotten under his nails. Or maybe it’s the open door, and the steady drip Dipper hears in the silence. Either way, the hallway reeks of blood, thick enough to -

Dipper’s arm darts out to brace himself as he nearly loses his brunch. 

“Whoa, steady there.” Bill tugs him back upward, holding his upper arms. His eye darts up and down, a quick once-over. “This is going better than planned! Wreaking shop, taking out the worst of the pack, everyone gathering for the Grand Finale…” He trails off. The frown increases. “Pine Tree?”

Dipper looks back up at Bill, but meeting his eyes is too much. He focuses on his chin instead. 

“Hey. HEY,” Bill insists. His eye flickers blue for an instant, roving over him, then returns to gold and shuts, very tightly. For a second, he simply grits his teeth together, then -  “Why won’t you say anything?”

Dipper’s throat works. He swallows, then purses his lips. Putting in more effort just locks his jaw up tighter.

It’s not like he can’t speak. He has a tongue again. All the bits are present and active and should be able to move. He’s not, like, cursed or anything. 

Distantly, he notices he’s shaking. But it’s not very much. If he’s lucky, Bill might not notice. 

He is not making a scene, and he is not complaining. At no point has he stopped things in their tracks, or argued. He kept pace with his god like a good believer, and didn’t throw up on his shoes or anything. He’s fine. He can’t even be corrected anymore.

There's a strange, lingering quiet. 

Not just that the crowd is gone, Dipper realizes, but Bill himself has stopped talking. 

For a few long moments, Bill simply watches him. No commentary, not even a snappy joke. Examining Dipper for some invisible sign. Whatever it is he’s seeing, he’s having a rough time parsing it out. Almost like he’s confused.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and the cloud lifts. Bill even snaps his fingers.

 “Hey.” Bill nudges him, adding a wink as he spreads his arms wide. “You wanna-”

Dipper launches himself into those arms before Bill can finish the sentence. The impact has Bill letting out ‘whoof’ of breath, staggering back a half-step. 

Whatever, he can handle it. Dipper’s just one human, Bill’s tough and strong enough to deal with that, and besides, he offered. 

Dipper shoves his face into the thankfully dry fabric of his lapels, gripping hard on the back of his shirt. Above him, he hears a low chuckle. Arms come up and around him, wrapping him tight in warmth until Dipper feels enveloped in his presence.

Slowly, Dipper breathes in again, then out. Repeating it in a rhythm, trying to keep it steady. 

Being in Bill’s arms smells like being in his wardrobe, only with extra Actual Bill. Slightly metallic and  a hint of his cologne, solid flesh filling out the fabric like a well-stuffed plush. Though one that’s a lot firmer, and moving slightly as he breathes. 

Clinging to Bill Cipher like this would be a death sentence, but fuck it, Dipper’s special. And it’s nice. Holding a person close, who wants Dipper to do it and holds him right back.

Against his back, a palm presses between his shoulderblades. Moving down his back, then up again. And between that and Bill, chest moving as he chuckles, and the steady beat of his heart. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand there. Or what Bill is thinking. But he’s not letting go. 

Eventually, Dipper feels himself relaxing. Tension drains out of tired limbs, leaving him looser in Bill’s grasp. 

Not all of it’s gone. But some. Knowing Bill’s here. Not dragging him around, or barking orders or - other stuff, just there in his arms. 

Another chuckle. Bill thumps his back twice, clearly having noticed.. Not that it’s hard, with Dipper going from ramrod-straight to nearly slumped. “Ha! Figures. Humans love this stuff!” 

Bill sounds particularly smug for figuring out a pretty base-level fact about people. If Dipper doesn’t roll his eyes, it’s only because he’s busy. 

It’s funny, because he’s pretty sure Bill isn’t all tense biceps and shoulders anymore either. 

They linger for a moment. There’s a silence that, for once, doesn’t seem like Bill needs to fill it - until there’s two pats on his back. “Better?”

Dipper sniffs. With his chin tucked on Bill’s shoulder, it almost feels that way. Given another five or ten or thirty minutes, he could maybe even believe it.

But Bill’s waiting for an answer.

Getting him one is a struggle. Dipper’s tongue feels sticky. The stubborn thing remains glued to the floor of his mouth no matter how he tries to get it moving. Swallowing doesn’t clear his throat from the block that’s settled in there, somewhere above his chest. 

Eventually, he manages, “Mh-hm.”

“Great!” Bill exclaims, arms rising up and away. He also steps back, clasping his hands together to rub them sinisterly. “‘Cause we got a lot more to do tonight. We haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

For a moment, Dipper wants to grab him again. Seize him by the arms and bring them back around and just-

He nods instead. 

This was the plan. Getting vengeance. They can’t chicken out three-quarters of the way through just because Dipper’s… he just had a moment, it’s whatever. 

When Bill takes him by the arm again, it’s not to grab and drag. Instead, he crooks his elbow, then places Dipper’s hand on the inside of it. And winks. 

“C’mon, smile, sapling!” He bumps Dipper with a hip. “Let’s make one hell of an entrance.”

Again, Dipper nods. Again, he lets Bill take the lead. His muscles scream in protest, unwilling to keep walking until he forces them to move. 

He follows a half-step behind as they tread the corridors. Eerily quiet ones now that the rest of the cult has rushed to obey the orders of their ‘god’. Unaware of what awaits them - or, considering everything, possibly terribly aware. 

Distantly, Dipper hopes that it’ll be quick. One and done and then they can leave…

Fat chance, though. Bill doesn’t want that. It’s not his style. 

He wants to make a goddamn spectacle.

Why did they have to come back here at all? Revenge is whatever, it didn’t have to be now. Not when he was this close to just. Forgetting some of this place. Or parts of it, the things that kept him up at night. With the cult out of sight and out of mind, it dulled the sharper edges, like how Bill poured that numbing liquid on his wrist so long ago.

The doors to the altar room are open. There’s a huddle of hunched figures, bundled in their crimson robes and bowed already. Lines of people hoping and waiting and muttering low, prayers of worship ringing distantly down the hall.

Dipper nearly backpedals, then takes a deep breath. Letting it out. 

Why is this happening. He could be sitting in his comfy chair right now, away from the cold underground walls and warmed by the fire, watching Bill ramble on about how ‘great’ he is, and maybe even finishing his drawing. Back in his room where it’s safe. 

But no. Dipper’s here again, just when he thought he could leave it behind.

His teeth hurt from how tightly they’re clenched. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, and a ball of taut frustration, tight in his chest. 

Getting through this is going to be like a sacrifice. All it takes is gritted teeth and determination. Not showing weakness, not even a single tear. 

Just hold on for the ride, and hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

Bill takes in the room with a sweeping look, chin lifted. He smirks. Instead of an announcement, he stalks straight through the open aisle formed between the rows of cultists. 

Guess this ‘special event’ doesn’t call for much ceremony. He smiles and waves, giving little idle comments to whatever’s unfortunate enough to catch his eye. He lands a solid kick on a cultist who inched too close for his liking, and cackles. 

Dipper feels the burn of dozens of eyes, laser focused on his back. They can’t be seen under the hoods, but it doesn’t stop them from reaching out. He hunches over, using Bill to cover some of the sightlines.

This could still be quick. Showy doesn’t mean extended or even that Bill has something truly awful in mind…

One quick glance at the look on his face shuts that idea down. The smile on Bill’s face is so sharp he could cut himself on it.

“Boy, if I had a nickel for every worthless piece of crap in this room - I’d have a ton of equally worthless metal discs!” Bill chortles again, nudging Dipper with his elbow. Possibly to get his attention. “Am I right?”

Dipper stares at the floor instead. 

A beat of silence. Bill mutters something, leading him towards the altar at the front of the room. 

One, two, three steps up to the dais. Dipper doesn’t need to look, he barely feels them. Like he’s walking on air. 

Bill pats his hand twice, then pries it off of his elbow. He has to do it finger by finger. The process takes him a while, since they keep latching back on. 

The altar surface hasn’t been cleaned. Guess nobody got around to the messy parts in his absence. Brownish-black clots lining the three sides of Bill’s image, carved into the rock. Thin trails leading into the recess, leading back to a misshapen pool at the front.

Someone did pick up after them, though. A little. 

Because the decorative ritual knife lies in the center of the pattern. Still silver-bright and clean.

Dipper traces a thumb down the raised line on his wrist, clutching it tight.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted assholes!” Bill’s voice echoes through the chamber like it was made for it. Maybe it was. “You’re all gathered here today to address some pretty shitty things you’ve been up to!” His tone turns coy, almost finger-wagging. “Gotta say I might have liked it! If you hadn’t picked the wrong friggin’ target.”

A soft muttering. A sound of discontent, even nervousness. 

That’s the first smart reaction Dipper’s seen from these people since they arrived. 

Some part of him is still surprised, though. Their ‘god’ is here. Shouldn’t that fill them with, like. Violent fervor? Vindication for their decades of worship, now that he’s finally arrived? That same intense energy, the cheering and shouting and excitement when a ceremony goes just…

Right. 

Considering what Bill’s done since showing up… Maybe Dipper’s not that surprised. It hasn’t exactly been what they expected.

Bill’s been talking. A tone common to most of his rambles, something something always watching, something something about ‘wrath’. Never quite saying why said wrath is arriving, since he’s a cryptic jerk about everything. 

A burst of blue light blooms, followed by a horrible, extended scream. Along with the sound of flames, a scramble of people trying to get away from the heat. Several other voices join the terror in a different kind of chorus, discordant as each person tries a different song at once. 

Dipper tries not to let that stick in his head. Think about anything else. Anywhere else.

Bill starts laughing, clapping as if he’s pulled off a fun magic trick. 

Maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. It could be - Dipper glances over his shoulder - 

And immediately averts his eyes. The smoke stings, and the smell of overcooked meat and carbon leaves him coughing. 

And not a single one of these idiots has fled. Nobody protests, or makes a comment about how he overcooked the barbecue, which would make Bill miffed and amused at the same time. Something that defuses his anger and gets him off this stupid track. 

The chorus grows in volume, settling on a single song. Several cultists have fallen to their knees, hands clasped in prayer.

Fuck, they're just-

Too much scripture. Too many lies. They don’t know what’s going on. Nobody’s ever told them, they never had a chance to figure it out. 

Even though Bill’s here in all his terror and… not quite all his power - no scripture could have prepared them for the real deal. 

If any of them had, they would have run long, long ago.

One voice speaks up. “My lord.” Quiet, hesitant. The girl’s voice. “I don’t think-”

“Ah ah ah!” When Bill speaks, it’s with a sneer in his tone. “Who said you could think? Much less talk back.”

What is he talking about? Bill loves that stuff - 

“Now there’s an idea,” Bill muses. His shoe taps the stone a few times. Then he snaps his fingers. “Hey, guys! Bring up our first demonstration of the night!”

Twin grunts sound from somewhere in the crowd. Dipper reels around, watching the guards from his sacrifice, grabbing the girl by the arms. 

Dipper mouth drops open - then he clicks it shut. 

“No, no, no,” Pleading, like that would work. Mascara is running down the girl’s face. He didn’t notice she was wearing any earlier. That’s forbidden here, a violation of the rules - “My lord, wait-”

“Ooh, you’re a mouthy one, aintcha?” Bill tuts, shaking his head. Despite his wry expression, there’s a hint of amusement. “Turns out I got just the ironic punishment for that! Kind of a what-comes-around-goes-around thing!!”

What?

With a jaunty whistle, Bill leans over Dipper to pick up the discarded knife. Metal scrapes against stone as he drags over the surface, a dramatic flourish.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. 

A twirl sends flashes of light off the edge. Bill toys with it a little more before testing the blade against thumb, and nods with pleasure. He grins, gesturing to the guards. “Hold her down and open that yap.”

The girl is shoved down to her knees. Dirty fingers shove against her jaw, into her mouth, until even with the struggling it’s pried open. The small pink tongue scoots to the back, a snail curling helplessly up in its broken shell.

Dipper  can feel his own, at the back of his throat. He knows the ache of having a jaw held open. The salt-warm of tears on cheeks, staring wide-eyed at a relentless force that won’t stop, even if you could speak, with shining sharp metal ready to remove that possibility.

An idea snaps into place, bright and sharp as the knife, and almost as cold.

All of this. Each and every horrible thing Bill’s done isn’t just to torment, because he’s never so simple as to have just one motive when he could have six, and he cares about what Dipper thinks. About what happened to him.

This is… revenge.

Bill’s doing this because he thinks that’s what Dipper wants. 

“Y’know, if I hadn’t thought of this first, I bet Pine Tree woulda personally requested it!” Bill taps the knife ons own cheek thoughtfully, then grins. “Say goodbye to your-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

The words echo against the walls, resonate around the cavern. Loud enough to cover up the wails, and stop Bill in his tracks.

Everyone goes still. Everything else has gone deadly, terribly silent. 

Dipper realizes he’s leaning forward, fists clenched. His throat feels rough and his own voice rings in his ears, but fuck it, at least it didn’t break and Bill has cut that shit out.

Bill turns. He straightens up and gives Dipper a look more puzzled than anything else, because he’s a goddamn fucking idiot. “Pine Tree?”

Instead of answers, Dipper just grunts as he storms forward. His jaw clenched so tight it hurts. 

Bill’s looking at him expectantly, but fuck him. He doesn’t deserve an answer, anyway. 

He should know better. 

With a low, thoughtful sound, Bill opens his mouth to say something. Before he gets a word out, Dipper slaps his hand with enough force to make even a demon let go. 

The blade skitters across the floor, going ‘ting’ against something in the background. 

Bill blinks twice. Then frowns, flexing his fingers to get sensation back. Rubbing them slowly, he turns fully away from the victim to face Dipper, head on.

It’s not a great look. The familiar smile has vanished, leaving something cool in its place.

And Dipper doesn’t care. 

A hot bright anger buoys him up above all the concerns, like he’s floating on a cushion of air. Beneath the rising fury all his worries look so small.

How dare Bill pull this. All of this, the ‘visit’, the tour. Bringing Dipper back here and bringing back things he didn’t want to remember. The screaming and fire and the things he’s done, all of them more and more wrong. And this huge, arrogant, total dipshit asshole -  

How dare he try doing that, and say Dipper would ask for it. 

“Excuse me?” Bill says. Not angry, exactly. But less than pleased.  He spreads his arms in an annoyed shrug. “Great you’re up and at ‘em, kid, but what’s the big deal? I was just about to-”

A shove doesn’t get Bill off balance - but it does get him to shut the hell up. He takes a half step back, surprise flickering back on his face. Dipper closes the space between them, fists held tight at his sides.

“Hey!” Bill holds his hands, palm up. Oh, now he’s annoyed. “What the hell, kid?”

“What the hell made you think this was a good idea?” Dipper snaps back. A sharp gesture at the victim - now staring, eyes wide - sends the burly cultists backing up and away in a nervous bulky shuffle.  “Just… this?”

“It’s ironic-”

“It’s evil.” Dipper insists. Louder than Bill’s voice, almost in a shout. 

For the first time in a long, long time, he’s not going to back down. Asking the hard questions and prying into the secrets of his god is what he does, damn it, and even though they tried to stop him years ago, well, Bill screwed up and brought it back.

Nobody else could get away with this. But Dipper can. 

“So what?” Bill rolls his eye.

So, he says. Just, ‘so what’. Like none of this is a big deal.

“So maybe you shouldn’t do evil things!” The argument sounds stupid even as he says it. Dipper swears and tries starting over.  “Or you should-”

“Uh, hello! Bill Cipher here, not sure who the hell you’re talking to,” He snorts, looking condescending as hell. “I get that you don’t wanna get your hands dirty - too squeamish, it’s whatever - but someone had to do something!”

“Nobody had to do any of this!” Dipper gestures at - everything, an awkward flail. “We didn’t even have to come back here!” 

“Oh no, no no, we definitely did.” Bill wags a chiding finger. Moving it back and forth, then tapping Dipper’s nose like a jackass. It sends a new surge of fury racing through his veins. “Like I’d ever pass up a chance for some chaos! Hell, it’s even justified this time, ain’t it?”

Punching Bill the second time isn’t as satisfying as the first. He only has like, half a foot of clearance and the bastard’s too tough to ever hurt. The return of surprise on Bill’s stupid face though - that’s great.

“It’s not. What are you even trying to do? Have some ‘fun’? Your version, which sucks.” Now that he’s started, Dipper can’t seem to stop. The words spring out before they ever pass through his brain, propelled by sheer anger. “You’re just an asshole. And- and a jerk and a moron and - and fuck, Bill, you’re not even a god. Just a dick.”

Bill’s lips firm into a line. Mouth screwed up, hands on hips; exasperated that he’s been called out with no great way to correct it. 

Somewhere in the distance, a series of gasps. Yes, it’s blasphemy. Totally heretical. Also it’s true.

It’s practically a scene out of that stupid shot. The plucky mortal, facing down the demon all dramatically, except real this time 

So what if Bill’s pissed off. The mortals that he’s had before probably all did this, at one point or another. They didn’t just roll over and do what he wanted because it was too hard to speak up No, they stood their ground. They stopped him.

Now that’s Dipper’s job.

“Huh!.” Bill smiles. One edged with irritation, with a flash of teeth like a minor threat. “That’s a pretty funny thing to say to the guy doing you a favor.”

He really thinks - how can he be so frustrating. 

“Stop acting like this is for me.” Jabbing a finger into Bill’s ribs, Dipper glares up at him.“This is all about you.” 

Bill’s lip curls. The lingering hint of smile evaporates. Now it’s all bare teeth. “Come again?”

“It is,” Dipper insists. “You wanted to come here. You made the plans, you wanted the stupid tour, and to have your stupid vengeance on people you’ve never even met.” He punctuates each point with another stab of index finger into ribs. “You wanted to have your little show. Not once did you ask me what I thought.”

“To be fair, kid,” Bill says, lilting like a teacher talking down to a little kid. “You weren’t exactly speaking up, were ya?”

That was a low blow. “Fuck you.”

“See! Total lack of constructive input!” Bill tuts. “What a shame.”

That smug, handsome face shows no signs of cracking. Dipper nearly stalks away in frustration - then reels back on Bill with another shove. One quick sidestep and he stumbles. Bill starts laughing, high and bright. 

Facing down a demon. A powerful one, strong enough to beat him into paste or light him  up like a match. 

Dipper should be scared. That’s the smart thing to do.

But instead of terror, there’s a weird electric energy, crackling in the air between them. Not Bill’s magic, though that’s probably part of it. Maybe just that he’s standing up against Bill Cipher and it’s - exciting, and energizing. Or at least giving him enough adrenaline that he doesn't have to think too hard. 

“Fine. You want my input? I’m telling you now.” Dipper speaks through gritted teeth. Getting in someone’s face is a game both of them can play. “You’ve done enough. Cut. It. Out.”

“Oh, please. That’s your big idea?. Just quit?” Bill scoffs. “You hardly know up from down half the time! Or what’s going on in your own head! Taking down the ol’ tormenter is a classic for a reason, sapling.” He spreads his hands wide, offering them palms up like a gift. Or an invisible enemy’s head. “It’s everything you ever wanted!” 

This time Dipper snorts. Clearly it isn’t. Obviously it isn’t. 

For some reason that sets Bill glaring, which in turn is - 

God, this idiot. Dipper runs a hand through his hair, letting out a tired laugh. “You have no idea what I want.”

If Bill knew what he wanted, they would have just stayed at the damn Fearamid. If he cared what Dipper was thinking he would have asked. If he read his mind to check, or just - anything, it’d be obvious. And he hasn’t. 

Because if he had the first goddamn inkling of what Dipper really dreamt of, lying in bed and feeling a pathetically desperate ache, he’d - 

React, somehow. Good or bad or weird, Dipper doesn't know, but he knows Bill wouldn’t keep a poker face for that.

And isn’t that ironic, really. Bill himself with no secrets from this one mortal, and Dipper the one with something hidden away. He’d never expect it.

“Then do it!” Bill snaps an arm out towards the crowd, sending cultists ducking in a rippling wave. “We’re right on center stage! Here’s the audience! You got some big plan up your sleeve? Nut up and go for it!”

Heat rises around them; Bill’s magic is leaking out. Dipper could burst into flames any moment now, by the mere whim of a powerful being, a near-god. 

 Dipper’s fingers flex. Shutting his eyes to block out Bill’s too-close face. Quelling the urge to do something amazingly stupid. 

“What is it you really want, Pine Tree?” Bill hisses, voice low. He leans in; a stupid attempt to intimidate that leaves him inches away. “Show me.”

Fuck it. 

Dipper seizes this stupid idiot awful asshole by the tie, ignores the way his expression shifts from irritation to confusion again - and hauls him in. 

His first thought is that Bill’s lips are very, very soft. The impact nearly clicked their teeth together, but with that cushioning it landed without major problems. He grabs at his shoulers, holds the back of his head, silently willing him to stay still for at least a moment.  

It doesn’t matter how Bill responds. So what if he shoves him away, or burns him to ashes, or takes back all the things he’s given him.

Totally worth it, if only because he surprised Bill for once. And he got this. 

He gets his moment. Two of them, actually. By the third, Dipper’s thoughts start catching up with him. Like how he has no idea what he’s doing with his lips, except mushing them up against Bill’s unresponsive ones. 

Honestly, Dipper’s probably kind of bad at this. Going into this without an exit strategy was not his best idea. 

Then a palm smacks against the small of his back, hauling him in close. That yellow eye flutters shut as Bill lets a soft ‘mh’ noise, tilting his head to meet him, cupping Dipper’s cheek.

Okay. Wow. 

One of them might not be good at this, but Bill can more than compensate.

Holding onto Bill’s shirt doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Where to put his hands, when all of Bill seems like a great place to touch. One slides around wherever it can, while his other hand twines fingers in Bill’s hair, running over and through it. Around his waist Bill tugs him as close as possible, like he’ll never let him escape. Which is probably the best plan he’s ever had. 

Infinite knowledge is great, he should have expected that. Should have guessed Bill knows what he’s doing, warm lips and teeth and his touch on Dipper’s back, briefly on his thigh. Slow motions that leave him shivering, because this is actually happening. 

Even over the kiss it’s a dizzying thought. Bill’s *into* this, and - how did -  Maybe there were hints he missed? Maybe Bill actually knew? Or maybe - There’s too much to process. 

And when a quick flicker of tongue darts out, Dipper lets out a little noise from the back of his throat. 

Then Bill - who is, still, inevitably, an asshole - pulls back. 

Dipper tries to drag him back in, but the bastard only laughs. How can someone look so stupidly smug with his hair all ruffled and his clothes messed up, it’s insane.

“Cripes, sapling.” Bill’s grin is wilder than usual, and equally wide. He gives Dipper a gentle shake, half-laughing. “You shoulda said something!”

“Um,” Dipper looks away. Embarrassment has started trickling in again. And it’s hard to think of a response with soft lips on his cheek, moving to his ear. “I dunno.”

“We have gotta,” Bill murmurs, in a very distracting way that involves planting kisses on Dipper’s neck between each word. “Work on your talking skills.”

There’s probably a retort for that. Unfortunately, most of Dipper’s brain is occupied. Whatever going to say vanishes in a puff of pink mist. 

And when Bill finally lets up, it’s while looking all too smug, and wiggling his eyebrows. Dipper sighs, cups that stupid smug face in both hands. Slowly, he strokes a thumb over an angular cheek.

Damn it. Bill was right. Dipper should have said something ages ago. Instead of this entire stupid awful mess, they could have figured this out and done actually fun things. Maybe they could have even kissed on the couch all evening, which is totally possible now and sounds fantastic.

Most of all - Dipper can’t believe this worked. That he can have this. 

The brief silence is nice, but it won’t last. Any second now, Bill’s going to make some really stupid comment, Dipper can feel it in his bones. If he thinks quick, maybe he can preempt the dumbest possible result. How-

Something goes ‘crack’ against the altar, just beside him, and Dipper jerks back. Hot wax splatters from the candle, which didn’t hit but still makes a tiny but spirited attempt to set his suit aflame. 

Bill rears up, snarling. The hold around Dipper’s waist goes painfully tight, shoving him hard enough to let out an involuntary ‘oof’. 

“Blasphemer! Heretic!” The shrill voice sounds tinny in the too-quiet room, and a little rough. Not surprising, since the owner had just been kneeling and crying recently. “How could you?”

“What are you-” Dipper starts, then tries to duck another flung candle. Bill snags it from the air; it melts in his grip like water. 

Bill’s slow turn towards the girl should cow her, or - at least get her to shut up. Dipper can’t see the expression on his face but there’s no way it’s a good one. It’s like she’s just not paying attention…

Then again - a quick check of the room confirms that nobody is. Not to Bill, at least. They’re all staring at… 

Dipper. 

“You…” With one trembling arm, the girl points at Dipper with furious accusation. “You pervert!” 

Huh. All the kissing must have really done a number on Dipper’s brain. It almost sounded like she said… 

Now the gears start grinding back to life, putting that phrase through the machinery and coming up with… “What?”

“You can’t even go one day without committing sacrilege!” She stomps her foot, mascara-streaked cheeks puffing out in frustration. “You’ve corrupted our god!” 

“What?” 

That’s the most ridiculous, misguided, ass-backward thing he’s- they can’t actually believe that crap. Right?

But in the room of ceremony, the crowd is stirring. Whispers grow and bubble. A slowly rising murmur, with brief pops of agreement.

Soon there are calls for Bill to come to his senses, cursing Dipper’s name and his horrible influence. Hands are wrung in lamentation for god himself taking in such an unworthy creature of dark purpose, this… 

Are they seriously calling him a ‘temptress’? What the hell? Anyway, the right word would be casanova, and that’s… really an overstatement. 

Dipper struggles for something to say - and for his balance, because Bill’s started laughing so hard he’s almost doubled over.

After years and years of total conformity and respect for their teachings - the cult finally rises to their feet in revolt, driven by furious purpose. 

Not at the incredible violence, though, oh no. Or the orders, or the chaotic dream god, or any of the other bullshit that they all went through. 

At him. 

All because of a freakin’ kiss where their stupid god was totally participating. 

Truth doesn’t matter, he supposes. Or what’s real, or right or wrong. What matters is that they didn’t like what they saw, and someone’s gotta take the blame.

Guess Dipper isn’t a ‘worthless’ acolyte. He makes a great scapegoat.

“Seriously? I just saved your lives.” Dipper steps forward, hands up. The only reason the next projectile doesn’t hit is because Bill’s put up a short wall of flame between them; it keeps the mob from advancing. “What the hell.”

“This is what I keep telling you! The hero crap is a dead end, sapling. No good deed goes unpunished.” Bill smacks him on the side, straightening up with a grin. He steps forward, cracking his knuckles. “No worries, though! Not my first rodeo with an unruly mob.”

“No.” Dipper blocks him, arm outstretched. A weak barrier at best, but one that makes Bill pause in his tracks. 

Bill glances over, one skeptical eyebrow raised. It’s true, he could take care of it. In a way. One with a police report writing ‘no survivors at the end.

And as much as they’re all assholes, it’s not really right. Not just morally, but because the punishment doesn’t fit. 

“It’s my vengeance.” Dipper insists. He tugs Bill’s arm, urging him back. “I’ll handle it.”

That gets a smile. Bill, eternal nightmare demon, spreads his arm over the crowd with a flourish, and steps aside, bowing deep. 

Okay. Wow. That worked, somehow. 

Maybe because Bill wants to see him in action. Possibly because he’s curious what Dipper will come up with. 

Or even, maybe, because Bill wants him to enjoy the result, and that’s possibly the weirdest reason of all. 

Standing in front of the crowd, fire alight between them - Dipper tries cracking his own knuckles, but they don’t pop. He just looks stupid, and his joints are weirdly sore now. 

“Sinner-” “Heretic-” “Just the worst, I always knew it-”

The voices drift over him; he barely hears their words. It barely takes effort to bring the magic up, thrumming through him. A net of warmth in his body, running through his veins. 

And if he channels it like this, and commands it like so, with all of Bill’s power behind it and his own will directing the flow, a form takes shape inside, weighty inside his chest. Ready to be let out at his word.

He built this curse. He planned every part, designed from the ground up. He knows precisely what it’ll do and - yeah, okay. This does feel pretty cool. Bill will probably even like it. 

Magic burning under his skin, Dipper takes a deep breath, and a second step forward - then lets the power out with a shout.

“Would you all just SHUT UP?”

A tidal wave of invisible energy rushes in the room, washing over the floor and dissolving into the air. For the second time, the room goes quiet. Eerily so, because the crowd still writhes in a formless mass. People throw their arms in the air, shake their fists. But except for the rustle of cloth and footsteps on rock, it’s a pretty noiseless riot.

Bill raises an eyebrow, and Dipper coughs into his fist. Okay, not really dramatic. Guess the concept takes a second to hit. 

It only takes a few seconds. First one person touches their face, another claps hands over their throat. A slow, near-silent panic ensues.

Dipper folds his arms, watching them all mouth words. One person is pulling at their tongue, another squishing their lips. Someone starts looking for paper and pen. They’ll find out how fun that is pretty soon. 

Not being able to talk isn’t so great, is it. Especially, say, for exactly as long as Dipper couldn’t.

See how they like it. 

“Aw, really? That’s barely anything!” Bill complains, obnoxious and loud. He waggles a hand, a so-so gesture. “Five outta ten, maybe.” 

“It was ironic.” Dipper protests. “Because, y’know.” He points at his own mouth, frowning when Bill snorts. He gets his hair ruffled for his efforts. “Points for style, sure, but what about suffering? This crap isn’t even permanent.”

Why does Bill have to talk all the goddamn time? Everyone heard - He runs a hand down his face, hissing through his teeth. 

“What? I’m just saying-”

Dipper seizes him by the tie, dragging him nearly face-to-face. “They didn’t know that.” 

Bill’s eye goes wide. For a long moment it’s locked with Dipper’s - then it darts away, looking absolutely anywhere else. His lips clamp tight as he finally, for at least a second, shuts the hell up. 

Dipper takes a long, long look at his face, the lines and the angles of it. He needs to remember this expression. Who knows if he’ll see it again. It might even be a first in history. 

Bill Cipher, demon and nearly-god, realizing he thoroughly put his foot in it. 

“Lord of Nightmares, huh,” Dipper says, quiet and thick with sarcasm. “A real master of psychological torment.” 

“Shut it.” Bill snaps, still unable to meet Dipper eye-to-eye. “Hardly an issue, a quick spell adjustment and we’re-”

“No, we’re going home.” Before any argument can start, Dipper shoves him towards the altar.  “Now.”

Dipper’s tired from casting the curse, and he’s tired from dealing with the memories. Tired of this place and the people in it. Revenge happened, it’s off the checklist, and he is so, so done with everything. Total waste of his day. 

Better get while the getting’s good. Before anyone gets any ‘fun’ ideas, and while Bill’s still deflated from his misstep. Dipper has maybe three minutes of being able to push him around, tops.

Shoulders rising, Bill bares his teeth - then mutters something under his breath, folding his arms over his chest. He’s in a full-blown sulk now, and his cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bill says, flicking his fingers. “I was done with this half an hour ago anyway.” With a huff, he stomps over to the altar.

What a liar. Bill would have continued, done more and worse, if someone hadn’t stopped him. This wouldn’t be half as easy if he wasn’t eager to put his fuckup behind him. 

Well, whatever works, works. Dipper rolls his eyes, tugging at his arm. With a sigh, Bill finally, grumpily, relinquishes his hand and Dipper takes it in his own, squeezing it gently.

Bill sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t protest. He rolls his eyes, as Dipper takes one look back. 

In the disarray of cursed cultists, no particular person stands out. A mass of red and gold, milling in confusion and fear. Not understanding what’s going - and probably not wanting to. 

There’s a lot he could say. If Bill were doing this, he’d have some snappy line ready to go, accompanied by a gore-filled finale of fireworks. Dipper’s different. He doesn’t have a plan in mind. Half the time he doesn’t know what to say, even when the situation isn’t completely fucked. 

Good thing there’s not much he wants to. 

Summoning the transport is easy. Simply touching the power is like drawing a breath, feeling the veil between worlds start to part. Dipper knows how to do it, going back to Bill’s realm is as easy as flicking a switch. 

“You know what? You’re all assholes.” Dipper says, just as the magic catches and he feels the world around them start to fade. “But you deserved a better god.”

The world flickers around them; it fades. Dipper keeps walking forward across nothingness. The dream dimension spins around them with its flickering images and aurora-like colors, the fragments of a subconscious mind.

Damn. Dipper’s aim is off. The Fearamid’s like, miles away. Either he’ll have to get Bill to do some space-manipulation, or prepare for a hell of a hike. 

That’ll have to wait, though. Behind him Bill mutters sulky, ego-soothing complaints, though not too loud. It’ll be a while before he’s back at full power, metaphorically speaking. 

A very fortunate circumstance, considering. Dipper’s reeling from what just happened. Adrenaline drains out of him, leaving him jittery and very, very tired. 

Away from the compound. He’ll never ever ever have to go back, nothing can make him. He’s out in another dimension, where he’s free.

And isn’t that the most messed up thing. That Dipper can stand on nothing in the middle of a dream realm, a dimension of insanity, and that helps him calm down. 

He just faced down a god. Sort of. 

He really did it. He can’t believe he did it, but somehow, in the moment. He couldn’t not do it, it was an impulse impossible to resist. The whole thing felt like… a knee-jerk reflex. An unused muscle kicking back into life under the electric shock of ‘Screw You Bill’. 

Just like those other guys, from so long ago. The braver, stronger ones who knew what they were doing - 

Maybe they didn’t really know, either. 

Dipper takes a steadying breath. He lets it out, and feels a knot of tension slowly release. 

He doesn’t know if he can live up to the birthmark, or even what it means. Another thing he’ll have to drag out of Bill, slowly and in pieces. But apparently, amazingly - he can do this. 

And he’ll have to, because holy shit, Dipper really gets it now. Somebody has to keep an eye on this demon, or hell knows what he’d get up to.

Looking back at Bill, still fuming, a sulking huff of breath out his nose. That handsome face is so annoyed, and it looks so, so good on him that Dipper wants to grab it again and kiss him stupid. For being stupid. 

Of all the mortals Bill could have been saddled with - 

God, Dipper’s glad it’s him.

Hopefully it’ll be a good few months before he needs to do that again, though. That metaphorical muscle friggin’ aches. 

“And what was with that parting shot, huh?” Bill’s voice finally rises back to its normal volume. He gives Dipper a haughty look. “I think I make a great god!”

There are so many things wrong with that, that - Dipper groans, stalking away across the dreamscape. No way he’s starting that conversation, it’ll take hours. 

What really sounds good is taking a shower, and collapsing on the couch to watch something brainless. Given some time to calm down and let the stress dissipate, he can handle Bill’s bullshit again. With a little encouragement, he might even get Bill to join him and they can - 

Mostly chill out. Maybe some other stuff. 

“What, you sulking?” No ground means no footsteps to warn Dipper when Bill pops up right next to him.  “Forget those idiots, kid. That’s all behind you! Let ‘em marinate in their misery like they deserve.” He rests a hand on his chest, self-important. “Just like I deserve at least three smooches for helping you get them theirs.”

Because he did such a great job of that. Dipper sets his mouth in a line, watching Bill grimace. Yeah. He knows what he did. 

“Whatever, you’ll get over it,” Bill says, bright. That ego bounces back like a rubber ball; the hard it lands the faster it comes back. He takes Dipper’s hand, lifting it to his face. “I happen to be a master manipulator.”

“No.” Dipper turns away again, forcing himself to frown. “I’m mad at you.” The words come out weaker than he’d like. 

“Not for long!” Bill gives him a rakish grin, and kisses the back of his hand.

Dipper ignores it. He’s a very strong and determined weird mark-bearer thing guy. Totally resistant to this demon’s terrible wiles. He is resolute as stone as Bill plants more kisses on the back of his hand, then works his way up his arm, to his shoulder and cheek. 

“Never letting you live that down,” Dipper mutters. These schmoozing attempts have no effect on him. He’s strong and brave and totally not melting a little into Bill’s arms. “You screwed up my revenge.” He adds, more annoyed.

“Ugh.” Bill's groan has a bit of embarrassment behind it. Just a twinge, but enough to make Dipper smile a bit himself. “Fine. Fine! I guess you need some recompense, whatever. I’m thinking…” Bill taps his chin, smirking. “Some kinda lip-based repayment plan. Whatd’ya say?”

Bill Cipher is a vile tempter, is what he is. Pulling Dipper’s strings like that, super easily. Damn it, he knew there’d be a downside to Bill figuring him out - 

Though admittedly - the upside is pretty great. 

Dipper pretends to think about it for a long second, watching Bill. The expectant look returns, his eye goes bright - and smiles. “I think we could make a deal.”

Welp. This is his life. Years and years of the cult, then kidnapped and dragged around and taken into the den of this absolutely ridiculous being. 

Fitting in back there was impossible, but. Dipper thinks it makes sense, a little bit. Between the mark and Bill himself, with his arm over Dipper’s shoulders and his heart beating fast -

He was a puzzle piece out of place. Part of the wrong picture, trying to be shoved in where he obviously didn’t fit. 

Being here, with Bill, feels… correct. Really good, too, in the way that a burn feels better under cold water, or a wound feels better all stitched up.

And deja-vu, almost. A sense that things are right. 

In the middle of terror and nightmares and chaos, Dipper’s always been part of the picture, in a way. 

He has a place where he belongs. 

“That’s my favorite mortal.” Bill grins, wide and wild, and swings Dipper up into his arms. “C’mon sapling. Let’s get you home.”

[corvusblackk]

101 wishes technique

Time ago, I think it was in 2017, I came across this manifestation method on youtube, I just looked for it now and I can’t find any media that talks about it for some reason so I’ll just have to rely on memory and personal modifications.

edit: omg I found it but it’s in italian > video > there are some differences in the method but anyway.

1. Take whatever journal you have, or buy one

When I knew about this method I used a small sized journal so that I could take it with me everywhere and hide it easily if you’re a closeted manifestor like me. You can first type in your notes app, but then you’ll have to write down the end thing on a journal.

2. Think about 101 things you want to manifest and write them down as a list, starting the phrase with “I want”

Example: n1- I want 1.000.000€ in my credit card, n2- I want a red pony, n3- I want to have super speed, etc…

A hundred-one things may seem a lot and they probably are, but you can think about literally anything, big or small, even just a random drive in mcdonalds from mom, or a castle in transylvania, and I came across some accounts on here that made posts of “what to manifest for fun” on various topics, such as supernatural, beauty wise, academic, and so on.

3. Read it all over every morning right after you wake up, or every night right before going to sleep

I used to read it at night before falling asleep so that I could detach better from it, but you do you

4. Just wait for da magic to happen

I remember that the man in the video said that, after a thing manifests, you can substitute it with a new wish.

“Rules”

you can do whatever you want of course, loa has no limits, these are just come of the rules i found in the video

- Start each wish with “I want” (not “I wish” or “I would like”, be firm)

- Avoid negative words (no, don’t, un, less, immune, etc)

- Maximum 14 words for each wish (it’s the max time you would have to whisper something in a breath)

- Avoid diminutives (“I want a little house at the beach” > you might find a little barbie house lmao)

- GO CRAZY with the wishes, write seemingly impossible desires, write down everything you ever wished for, they will become reality even faster

Before any little kid attacks me for putting rules over manifestation I’ll clear my throat one time and say “DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT” and don’t limit yourself. Those “rules” are just the ones said in the video, and I use them basically for fun, because if you affirm anything against those “rules” you will still get your desired outcome because you’re a god and gods can do whatever the fuck they want without limit, so just sit and relax.

You can see results instantly, some people have received some of their manifestation on the same day, while others took more time, but it all comes down to your assumptions.

This is kind of a Law of Attraction thingy, because you just have to write down your desires, read them every day, and then detach. I hope you don’t hate me for speaking about something non-loassumption, I hope you still love me for who I am.

[luvsturniolo]

hii, i love your writing sm ! if it's not too much to ask, could you please do a fic where the reader is matt's girlfriend and he dresses her up in his clothes partly as a joke but also because he thinks it would be cute. i just keep imagining the reader wearing his t-shirts or button up's and baggy jeans/jorts and she's trying to wear his shoes but they're too big on her and matt's just DYING at it. basically just a super cute, fluff moment. thank you sm!

— ★ !! wardrobe

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : while casually hanging out, matt has the bright idea to dress you up in his clothes as a joke. but he's quickly taken aback when he sees you in them.

a/n : wait this request is so cute , i hope i do it justice 😭

wc : 0.6k

you've been dating matt for a few months now and his house has quickly become your favorite place. it's so relaxing in comparison to your own.

earlier today, you were overtaken with boredom. so you texted matt, asking him you pick you up. of course, he agreed. you've been lounging around his house for an hour or two, basking in the comfort that comes with being in your boyfriend's presence. 

you guys have watched a few movies, baked a pizza, and simply enjoyed being together. 

you're currently lying on matt's bed, scrolling through your instagram feed while he sits at his desk, writing something down in his journal.

despite not doing anything productive, neither of you could ever get sick of this. you've both come to realize that simply being together —even if it's boring to an outside perspective — is both of your guys' favorite thing to do.

suddenly, matt's head perks up at a random thought. you glance over in his direction to see him already looking at you with a wide smile on his face.

you laugh, "what?"

"nothing, nothing." he replies easily. "i just had a random idea that could be fun."

"well, let's hear it." you say, setting your phone down on the mattress beside you. you turn your full attention to matt as you urge him to tell you his idea.

he sets his pen in the crease of his notebook and before closing it, the pen becoming a bookmark so he can continue to journal later.

"what if," he begins, "you let me dress you up?"

"dress me up?" you repeat, laughing at the strange request. "my clothes are at my place and, no offense, but i don't think yours would fit me."

"exactly." matt says. "the fact that they won't fit is what'll make it so fun to do."

you tilt your head at him, still a little bit confused as to what's going on in his mind. 

matt gives you a grin before standing up from his chair and walking over to his closet. he opens the doors and begins rummaging through random clothing articles.

before long, he settles on a pair of his jean shorts and a baggy hoodie. he holds them up to show you his choices and you laugh.

"matt, that hoodie is too large for you. it's gonna completely engulf me." you tell him.

"pleaseeeeeee!" he pleads. "just try it on. it'll be funny!"

you breathe out a laugh before getting up from his bed and taking the clothes out of his hands. you leave his room and enter the bathroom. you strip out of your current clothing and replace them with matt's.

you look down at yourself and scrunch your eyebrows at your appearance. why is matt so interested in seeing you wear his clothes? in your eyes, you look extremely goofy.

regardless of how you feel, you reenter his bedroom and do a dramatic twirl to show off your outfit.

"cute, huh?" you ask him with a laugh. but matt doesn't respond. he's too busy staring at you — almost as if he genuinely thinks you look half decent. 

"yes." matt finally replies, completely serious about his answer. you give him a weird look, waiting for him to laugh or say it's a joke. but he doesn't. he just keeps staring.

"wait, for real?" you ask.

matt looks you in the eyes before stepping closer to you, "you look adorable, y/n. for real."

he takes your face in his hands, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. you can feel him smile against your lips and you get an unreal amount of butterflies from the tiny gesture. 

when the kiss is broken, he continues to cup your cheeks as he admires every indivual feature of your face.

"you're so weird." you tell him.

"maybe," he agrees, "but you like my weirdness."

you tip your head upward to kiss him again before saying, "yeah. i really do."

tags : @kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @uhnanix @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @deadxrx @kitaysworld @slaysturniolo

[perfectsunlight]

[01] THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER

warnings: none

part of the series: ivory

“how would you describe ivory?” 

the interviewer, park minho, asked chaewon as the camera focused on her. she chuckled slightly before she answered. “ivory?” the leader took a few moments to think about her response before speaking once again. 

“she’s a very special girl. very sweet, very kind.”

the video cuts to sakura answering the same question. 

“ah,” the japanese girl smiled. “she’s a very rare kind of person, that’s for sure.” yunjin and kazuha are the next to answer, followed by eunchae. 

“honestly, she’s very talented. just super bright and good at what she does.”    “i’d say she’s truly a superstar. i’ve never seen someone like her.”      “ivory is unique. she’s just ivory, and ivory is amazing.”

finally, the mentioned girl appears on screen. final touches are placed on her appearance before the staff disappears off camera. ivory is seated in an empty practice room with the interviewer in front of her. 

“would you like to introduce yourself?”

cat-like eyes found the lens with ease and the young girl flashed a small smile. “hello,” she waved at the camera. “i’m ivory, a member of le sserafim.” she was dressed in a simple yet elegant white blouse paired with black pants, her hair styled in soft waves that framed her face delicately. her demeanor exuded confidence and warmth, making even minho smile.

he shifted in his seat, preparing for a more personal line of questioning. “your name, it’s very unique. could you tell me about where it comes from?” in all of his years of journalism, he had seldom encountered a name like hers, especially in this industry. ivory, unperturbed by the question, leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.

“it’s my middle name.” the idol said as she spoke with her hands. “my first name is jane, but my middle name is ivory. i thought it would be cooler to use my middle name, so i just went with that.” 

he nodded, noting the subtle playfulness in her response. her youthfulness was definitely evident in her mannerisms, however the young girl was well spoken for her age. “can you tell us a bit about your journey to becoming a member of le sserafim? what inspired you to become an idol?”

ivory’s expression softened with nostalgia as she recalled her younger self. she could sit here for days and think “i’ve always loved music. it wasn’t something i thought i could do as a career until my grandmother sat me down and said she believed i could do it.”

“at 15, i became part of a project group called new jeans.” ivory continued as she explained her story. “we were just an experiment for about two years, and right after that ended, source music gave me a call. and now, here i am.”

the interviewer nodded, intrigued by her story. he had interviewed many idols before, but they were not always this young. “you’re very young. did that affect your homelife and schooling?” he asked while the camera focused on the two of them.

the brunette paused for a moment, her expression briefly flickering with a hint of introspection before she composed herself with a gentle smile. “it did, in some ways,” she admitted thoughtfully. “growing up, i lived with my grandmother. she supported my dreams from the beginning, but balancing school and training was definitely challenging.”

she chose her words carefully, delicately navigating around the subject of her parents, as she had learned to do over the years. “there were sacrifices, of course,” she continued, her voice steady. “but i've always been grateful for the opportunities and the support.”

the interviewer nodded empathetically, sensing the complexity beneath her poised exterior. he could tell the girl in front of him had definitely worked to get to where she was.

“what do you like to do for fun?” minho shifted the conversation into a more positive direction, allowing ivory a moment to relax from the more introspective topics. her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she spoke about her hobbies and interests outside of music. “i love writing songs," she began, her smile genuine. “i also enjoy reading—fiction and poetry are my favorites. and, of course, spending time with my friends and like going to concerts”

minho gave the young idol a small smile, enjoying the enthusiasm from the girl. everytime he smiled, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen her face before. he chalked it up to possibly seeing her during her time with newjeans. 

“tell me about your first concert. you must have been even younger, i’m assuming.” he asked while the camera shifted its attention to the idol. 

ivory's demeanor softened slightly at the mention of her first concert, a memory tainted with both nostalgia and complexity. she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her mind briefly revisiting the vivid scenes of that day.

“yes, i was quite young,” she began, a faint smile playing on her lips as she recalled the excitement of her first live performance experience. “i was about 7 years old and my grandmother went with me to see blackpink,” she admitted, her voice carrying a mix of reverence and fondness. “it was definitely something i’ll never forget.”

“do you have a favorite song from them?” minho inquired while the camera remained focused on the brunette. her expression hardened for a moment before she managed to force a thin smile.

“no. i don’t really listen to blackpink.”

sensing a bit of tension but deciding to proceed, minho changed the subject back to the group. “you officially debut tomorrow, how do you feel?”

ivory's smile widened, grateful for the change in topic as she redirected her focus to the upcoming milestone in her career. "i'm incredibly excited," she replied, her voice bright with anticipation. “le sserafim has been a dream come true for me. we've all worked so hard to prepare, and i can't wait for everyone to see what we've been working on.”

“we are all looking forward to it. aside from your hobbies, what’s something about you that your fans might be surprised to learn?” he asked while the camera shifted back to him for a moment.

ivory shared a gummy smile along with a playful look in her eyes. “i’m actually left handed. i don’t even think my managers know that. i know eunchae knows because we share a room, but i think she’s the only one who does.”

the interviewer chuckled. “really? are there any challenges or advantages being left-handed in your line of work?” minho’s eyes scanned ivory’s features, still unable to shake the familiarity in each of them.

the brunette shook her head, her smile widening. “when we practice, we use our left side the majority of the time because on stage it’s mirrored and it looks like our right side. so, it just feels more natural for me when i’m dancing.”

“that’s wonderful. i’ve yet to see some of your dancin, but would you consider yourself more of a vocalist or a dancer?”

her cat-like eyes narrowed slightly as she hummed in thought. “i’d say a bit of both, but i gravitate more towards singing. dancing was something i had to learn as a trainee, and i do enjoy it, but i’ve always loved singing.”

the interviewer nodded in agreement. “is there a go-to song you enjoy singing?” he asked as he leaned forward a bit. “or perhaps a favorite song you like to sing?”

“snowman by sia.” ivory said with a grin. “it’s an old song, and it came out when i was like a baby, but i love it.”

“we will all be looking forward to hearing your voice. lastly, what are your dreams for the future, both as an individual and as a member of le sserafim?”

ivory’s eyes glazed over with an aura of determination. “as an individual, i want to continue growing as an artist and exploring different facets of my creativity. as a member of le sserafim, i hope we can reach new heights together, inspire more people with our music, and leave a lasting impact in the industry.”

the interviewer smiled warmly. “thank you, ivory, for sharing so much with us. it’s been a pleasure.”

ivory nodded, her smile radiant. “thank you for having me. i hope everyone continues to support le sserafim.” the video ends after ivory finishes speaking. 

———

minho watched ivory walk out of the room they filmed in before he turned to one of the staff members and asked a question.

“doesn’t she look like someone?” 

the staff member paused, considering the question carefully before responding with a curious expression. “actually, now that you mention it, she does remind me of someone. but i'm not sure who, i just can’t put my finger on it.”

the older man nodded thoughtfully while staring at the video playback of the mentioned idol. there were numerous features about the girl that were familiar, but there was one prominent one that stood out the most.

“i’ve seen her eyes somewhere, i just know it.”

previous | masterlist | next

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part seven

part eight: i think about jumping off of very tall somethings

Eddie was fully convinced he had lost whatever remaining dignity he might have had when his friends had found him sunken into his beanbag chair with random detritus strewn around the room. He really thought he could not feel any lower than when Ronnie made it more obvious than necessary that she was picking her way through Eddie's junk to stick a hand into his nest and pull him out by his collar. He thought that was rock bottom, but being early for coffee with Robin and Nancy and having to wait with a cooling americano he spent way too much money on really gave that whole experience a run for its money.

Ronnie had suggested dming Robin and Nancy and testing the waters to see if they would be willing to broker some sort of reunion with Steve. Eddie stared at her like she had suggested he deliver the one ring to mordor alone; however, she obviously had a point since the newly announced couple suggested meeting up.

"Hey! Eddie! Sorry we're late!" Robin caught Eddie's attention as Nancy went to order.

"Oh, uh, no worries," Eddie fumbled, "I'm just happy you're here at all honest."

"I mean, Nance said it's only fair to hear you out but you were fucking brutal to my best friend, dude, so like the window to give you some grace is pretty fucking small," Robin answered.

"No, yeah totally understood. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asked.

"Why don't you just explain what happened from your side of things. From our angle, you look like kind of a douche but also I feel like maybe Steve didn't handle things great either? I dunno. I mean, you made him really happy, if we have a chance to fix that, I think I owe it to Steve, right?" Robin answered.

"Sure, yeah, no that makes sense," Eddie started as Nancy sat down with her and Robin's drinks.

"Keep going, Eddie, this is mostly Robin's thing anyway," Nancy prompted. She did not look quite as open to fixing things as Robin did and Eddie felt a little more nervous after he let himself relax in Robin's easy presence.

"For sure, so like obviously you know all of the like tabloid bullshit about Steve and whatever and like I kind of got it and understood but then without any warning I show up and Steve's like gorgeous and super successful ex was just on his couch and Steve isn't willing to explain? I mean that was pretty fucking hard to swallow," Eddie finished a little less certain of where he stood with Robin as she narrowed her eyes over her tea.

"So instead of trusting Steve and listening to him when he told you how much the tabloids have lied about him throughout his career you let the fact that I was present in his home be enough to trump years of what you all had built?" Nancy questioned. Eddie could see her journalism chops coming out.

"That's fair. I mean, I definitely acted without a lot of thought but like, why wouldn't you have looped me in? Did you guys not trust me?" Eddie asked still trying to figure out why he was left flat footed all those weeks ago.

"I think that might be on me," Robin piped up, "I was pretty nervous about coming out and I think Steve was being super protective and didn't want to ask me to come out to more people than I was wanting to. It's not that he didn't trust you, Eddie, it's that we had some pretty shitty years with different agents trying to push me in different directions and I think he just was sick of feeling like outside forces were making me move quicker than I was ready to. And it's not like you made it easy on him to reach out to you after. How was he supposed to respond when you blocked him on literally every platform?"

"I guess I didn't think he would want to explain or he'd try to like explain everything away even though it had seemed obvious at the time he was cheating on me," Eddie paused when both Robin and Nancy threw death glares across the table, "Jeez, I know now that was stupid but at the time it was the only rational I could see."

"I guess we should stop interrogating you, you do seem pretty serious, otherwise I don't think you would have agreed to meet both of us," Nancy jumped in.

"I really regret cutting him off like I did. I know I got way too in my head about everything immediately and just didn't give it time or let him respond," Eddie tried to sound as apologetic as he felt.

"We believe you, you two are both dinguses," Robin cut in, "more importantly, what are we going to do about that fucking song and how the hell do you propose apologizing for all the shit you stirred?"

"I thought we were done with the interrogation," Eddie held his hands up.

"Only about whether or not you're genuine, you still have to figure out how you are putting my bestie back together," Robin answered.

"So about that. I have a couple ideas. One, I feel like a song got us into this mess and my label wants more music anyways so I am kind of thinking of an apology song. The rest of my band has actually started workshopping some stuff with me to try to put it together as soon as we can. I'm kind of hoping to release it before Steve gets back so we are a bit under the clock," Eddie began, "And second, that's where I was kind of hoping you guys could help. I don't want to like ambush the guy but I also don't know if Steve will be interested in meeting with me or like ready to start dating again. I was kind of hoping I could crash one of your movie nights? Maybe once Steve gets settled a bit more?"

"Steve is not the best with surprises," Robin thought aloud, "but that's not a no, it's a convince me."

"I just figure he'll be in his space and relaxed and he also fully has an out to have you kick me out if he isn't interested. If he is, I was kind of hoping you too would be willing to make yourselves scarce?" Eddie hoped that was enough.

Surprisingly, Nancy was the one to answer.

"I think we have a deal, Munson," Nancy stuck her hand out for Eddie to shake.

Eddie left the cafe feeling more hopeful than he had in some time.

part nine

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast

@mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82

@lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly @sherrylyn0628 @steddieinthesun @wonderland-girl143-blog @counting-dollars-counting-stars @bookworm0690

(if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello and congrats on 5K!!!!!

I was unsure if I should send in my goofy idea haha but here goes! I was just imagining, the mc and the 141 having to do a mission super early in the morning. So the mc puts on some earbuds and just listens to the most grating or strange music to help wake themselves up. I imagined this with Soap or Gaz but whoever is fine ^^

Thank you and again, congrats on 5K!!!

—How Do You Listen To That?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

It was three a.m. and already you were in full gear, bag slung over your shoulder as the C17 sat on the tarmac. Soldiers walked about, men and women loading up the plane with all manner of items your Task Force might need. You don’t mean to be rude when you walk past without more than a grunt in greeting, it’s just that you can barely keep your eyes open.

The debrief had been quick, nothing more than a few words by Price said when everyone had been called in from their barracks not fifteen minutes earlier. Off to another base somewhere in Egypt, you yawn into your elbow and try not to think about how hard it’ll be to stay awake on the fly over there. You needed to be boots on the ground right off the bat, so no time to rub at your eyes before you landed. 

Your feet thump up the ramp and you drop your bag next to Gaz, who pulls his headphones out of his ears to rest around his neck. He sends you a glance, lips pulling in a tiny smile. 

“Still with me, Love?” You send a blurry glare his way, tossing yourself down beside him into one of the uncomfortable chairs connected to the wall. 

“Remind me,” your voice grumbles as Kyle’s hand grabs the seatbelt from your side, pulling it over you and clicking you in. “Why did I join up?”

“Well,” Garrick teases, “to see my face every day, Ma’am. Can’t think of a better reason.”

“You’re lucky you’re smart, Sergeant.” Pulling the strap to cinch the seatbelt to your abdomen, you shuffle into a more comfortable position and go to rest your head on Gaz’s shoulder. 

“Is it mine or yours, then?” The man asks you, and your lips pull in thought. An arm extends around your shoulders, jostling you closer to a hard chest as you hum in approval. 

“Mine—you choose the songs to Latvia.” A phone is casually moved to your hand and you take it with a muttered ‘thank you.’

Gaz sighs, leaning his head back and putting one of the headphones into his ear—you take the other and do the same, smile pulling at your lips. Your face still burns with fatigue; eyes fluttering against the lights as Johnny, Ghost, and finally your Captain all make their way to their own seats. 

With every Op, there was a routine. 

Johnny would fiddle with all kinds of hand-held puzzles he kept in his pack or write in his journal, Simon would read, and Price would go over reports or type up mission details—the upcoming intel that you’d all need to know before the real nitty-gritty started. 

Gaz and you would listen to music. 

It was sweet, you thought. A semblance of balance and stability before the ball dropped. Being close to him always felt like that.

Absent-mindedly, you scroll through song after song as Kyle rests his eyes, itching at the back of his neck as he holds you. Finding a song that’s sure to wake you up, not even knowing the band, you can tell just by the album cover exactly what it’s going to sound like. 

Screaming, throaty wails; maybe even garbled voices that yell at a frequency so high it’ll make your ears bleed. You smirk.

Perfect.

Gaz’s relaxed demeanor is accented by a tiny smile, muscles lax and his face loose as the ramp of the C17 begins to fold in on itself before take-off. He holds you in the crook of his arm, feeling your sleepy heat and the way your face nuzzles his upper pec—you always alluded to a feeling of relaxation on days like these; when time was of the essence. In the few hours of having you against him, Kyle can finally let his mind rest—

“Bloody fucking hell!” The man calls as the grating sound of vocal bellowing strikes his ears. Gaz’s body jerks forward, snapping the headphones away from him as the rest of the men immediately look over to the scene of a horrified Sergeant and a giggling woman under his arm.

You laugh loudly, phone close to your chest and face burying itself into the panicked man’s neck. 

Gaz blinks quickly, staring down at you with parted lips as the rest of the Task Force share a knowing look. 

“Now,” he asks through a breathless exaggeration, “what did I do to deserve that?” 

“I…I’m sorry,” you giggle out, giving him a firm side hug. 

“Christ,” Kyle sighs, fake glaring down as a smile comes out over his face. “You’re trouble, Love, y’know that? Who can listen to that this early?”

You smirk in his face, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile. “It’s going to wake us up, Garrick.”

“Fuck, if that’s how you’re going to do it, I’d rather bash my damn head into a wall. Jesus.” You roll your eyes and give in, chuckling. 

“Alright, Alright—no songs that involve people screaming directly into your precious little ears, Kyle.” The man knocks his head on top of yours, a smile hidden in your hair as the voice of the pilot wafts over the cockpit. 

“...Thank Christ. ‘Bout pissed myself.”

[elli3luvs]

GOOD GIRL READER X DEALER! ELLIE

a/n: thank you guys for the attention the first part got! seeing your reblogs and comments make me super happy haha tomorrow i will be working on all of the requests i've gotten :)))) hope you guys enjoy this part as well

cw: the slightest smidge of smut ever lol

ellie wasn't too sure how you managed to encapture her like this

studying was like a negative priority in her life, yet here she was at the library on a saturday, watching you scribble notes in your journal

since the time at the party, the two of you have been basically inseparable

she accompanied you when you wanted to go to the mall to get a pretzel

and you followed her around when she roamed around campus

she had a physics final in a couple of weeks but she didn't really care about that right now

seeing your concentrated look was far more important

she was looking at you when a guy came up behind her, tapping her shoulder

you look up from your journal at the sudden intrusion

"you selling right now?" ellie grimaced at this

"nah," she picks up a pen that she hadn't even realized was near her, "not right now." she looks down at her notebook hoping the guy got the hint

you smile at her as she looks up at you through her eyebrows

you don't know if it's because of your demeanor but since you have been hanging out ellie doesn't sell to people around you

she always rolled her eyes when the person would leave too

spouting a "fucking people, man" or "can't they see i'm with you?"

you guys were taking it slow until you decided you had enough of it

the two of you were sitting on her shitty little couch that was half broken from god knows what watching some sort of sci-fi movie from the 80s

she would laugh at the visual effects

you laughed at how nerdy she was to actually get enjoyment out of this

your heart was so full anytime you hung out with her

all you wanted to do was flaunt her around campus

that's when you decided to full send it

"do you want to be my girlfriend?"

ellie was laughing before you said that but her smile dropped almost instantly

you shifted your eyes around the room nervously awaiting her answer

it was like she malfunctioned for a split second

she looked at you with a look you couldn't quite place, "really?" she whispered

you nodded, "yeah."

"oh, thank god." she relaxed into the couch, hand grabbing your lower thigh and squeezing

she wanted to ask you that weeks ago but didn't know how you would've felt

she was actually the perfect girlfriend

you could always expect her standing outside your class to fetch you, even when it was an 8 am

she may have been wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with her hair literally sticking every which way

but she was still there

she would knock on your door randomly

when you opened it she would be leaning against the doorframe with a goofy smile, "wanna makeout in my car?"

there would be times you would show up to her room unannounced and it would be hazy with smoke

she would clamber around like you were her parents catching her, "fuck, babe. sorry!" her bong would be shifted to the side as she sprayed whatever was next to her to try and get rid of the smell

you didn't have to heart to tell her it rarely did anything

there were times you would be cuddling and someone would pound at the door

she would groan, getting up with an apologetic glance

she would grab the wooden box under her bed, taking it to the door to have a hushed conversation with whoever was on the other side

she would always come back with the money in hand and a smile gracing her face

"want mcdonalds?"

the first time you guys ever had sex she was so gentle

you noticed her hands shaking a little bit as she caressed you

obviously, you didn't say anything, but it was the cutest thing ever to you

she whispered the sweetest words to you as she continued to touch you so gently

"you are the best thing that could've happened to me," she kissed at your neck, "thank you for going to that one party."

it made your heart swell

there was one time she was knuckles deep in you, making you moan and writhe around under her

when a loud knock came at the door

she continued her ministrations, not caring until it got louder and louder

"els! you got anything?" the voice yelled from the other side

she continued fingering you, yelling a gruff, "no! fuck off!"

"you should," you let out a moan as her fingers circled your clit, "sell to him. it's important."

she scoffs, "no one is as important as you, pretty girl."

ellie was so good to you

she always put your happiness and comfort above anyone or anything else

you were so undeniably happy with her

[owl-with-a-pen]

Outside of superhero emergencies, Kara didn’t tend to lean into her super hearing where she could avoid it. Girl’s night at her apartment, for example, definitely shouldn’t have called for it. Then again, she wasn’t usually the subject of discussion in just about every apartment block on her street.

So, maybe that wasn’t completely true. She’d certainly heard her name mentioned a lot more since the whole secret identity reveal thing; it was just, nowadays, instead of hearing Supergirl, it was usually Kara Zor-El.

She was used to it. She’d been used to it for years; her name was normally a hot topic days, if not weeks after a major save was broadcast. The only difference now was… not all of those voices were as positive as she’d come to expect.

Like right now, for instance. No matter how hard she tried to shut it out, she couldn’t help but listen for that same voice echoing from hundreds of homes across the city, streaming from earbuds, speakers and laptops alike. His voice was charismatic and quick, like a less polished Maxwell Lord, and while he may have been a nobody just a few weeks ago, he’d certainly gained enough traction now to give Kara one hell of a headache.

Unfortunately for her, she’d inadvertently tuned herself in at just the right time for her downstairs neighbour to hit play:

“Alright folks, if you missed our last episode I’ll catch you up to speed. Last week, we rounded off at the crux of the Supergirl Problem; that she hasn’t just been living in our midst this whole time, but that she’s been actively working as a journalist for CatCo Worldwide Media. And, just a few weeks ago, she was publicly put in charge of the editorial process for that same media outlet minutes after she came clean about her alter-ego to the world. And, as I doubt Supergirl will want to speak for herself on the matter, we have one of her self-proclaimed super-fans in the house today to speak on her behalf. Say it with me at home folks, debate me, Supergirl!”

The aforementioned ‘super-fan’ let out a surprised scoff at her introduction. She didn’t waste a minute of her airtime, jumping immediately into the conversation: “Well, for starters, I think you’re taking this whole thing out of context. Supergirl didn’t just become a journalist for CatCo overnight. If you knew anything about Kara’s story, you’d know that she worked her way up the food chain for years! I mean, how empowering is that? She started as a PA!”

“Yeah, a PA with superspeed, how difficult. No wonder she ended up in Cat Grant’s palm! And yes, I do know her origin story, thank you very much.” The host’s voice crackled as Kara imagined him relaxing into his microphone. “Let the audience not forget that she was a PA for Cat Grant before she became a journalist. Are we really going to pretend that wasn’t her foot in the door?”

“Cat Grant wasn’t even her boss when she got into journalism,” argued the young woman. “And by the time Kara made a name for herself, Cat wasn’t even leading the company anymore! She got to where she is now on her own merit, no one elses!”

The host spoke over her: “It begs the question, did Cat Grant know this whole time? She takes a sabbatical only to re-emerge just in time to offer Supergirl a promotion. On top of that, she’s been promoting Supergirl for years! She created her – her words, on record. And now she’s put her in charge of media distribution. Get this: Supergirl is now in charge of the media we consume. Isn’t that a little self-indulgent?”

The young woman didn’t back down. “Kara Danvers was a Pultizer winning journalist long before we found out who she really was,” she argued. “She’s been standing for truth and justice just as much as Supergirl has. In fact, she’s just as much a hero as—”

“But what’s the agenda here?” the host continued with a conspiratorial air. “How can we even believe the news now it’s being headed by a liar? And she did, didn’t she? She lied to us all! She had a secret identity this whole time, and what? We’re just supposed to accept that? What’s the bet that this story will make a headline at CatCo magazine tomorrow morning, with my comments made out as Supergirl’s latest villain story? Or, better yet, will I be Kara Danver’s first official nemesis?” He barked out a laugh into his microphone. “There’s no freedom of the press anymore, folks, not when CatCo is bias towards the very hero that made it so popular in the first place!”

Before she could hear any more, Kara was thrown from her super-eavesdropping rather unceremoniously when a hand shot out in front of her face, waving impatiently.  

“Earth to Kara,” Alex said, snapping her fingers in front of her sister’s nose. “Hey, anyone home?”

“Huh?” Kara said before screwing her eyes shut, swatting away Alex’s offending hand. “Hey, hey, stop that!”

It was only then that she realised that it wasn’t just Alex who had been trying to get her attention. Lena and Kelly were staring at her from the opposite sofa. Nia sat cross legged on the footstool by the coffee table, nursing her drink with an expectant expression.

Kara glanced lamely at the TV. It didn’t look like anyone had been paying attention to the movie for quite some time.

Just how long had she been…?

Kara tried not to cringe.

Kelly cleared her throat, smoothing her hands over her lap. “From your expression, I’m guessing you were listening in on something pretty important.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, oh no, it’s not a superhero emergency, I swear. Girl’s night continues uninterrupted, I promise!”

“Okay,” Nia said with a slow smile. “Then what was with the—” She mimicked Kara’s spaced-out expression a little too well, earning a few grins at her expense.

Kara pursed her lips. “Uh—I mean. It was nothing. Just…” She sagged in on herself awkwardly. “Okay, so I may have been listening to this podcast…”

“Oof.” Alex winced. “You don’t wanna do that.”

Kara groaned, falling back against the sofa. “I’ve been trying not to, but it’s kinda hard when half of my building’s listening to it.” She rubbed aggressively at her ears. “Super hearing can really suck, you guys.”

“Wait,” Nia said, perking up. “Are you talking about the Debate Me, Supergirl podcast?” When everyone turned to stare at her, she shrugged. “What? Brainy’s been keeping tabs on all social channels for this stuff ever since your interview first went public, y’know, calculating the odds on them picking up any real traction. In case things go… south.”

“And what are the odds on this guy?” Alex asked seriously.

Nia made a vague gesture. “I mean, until a few days ago, Brainy had him in the unlikely category. But his latest interview with a Supergirl stan got a whole lot of attention on social media. They were basically at each other’s throats the entire time.” She took a mild sip of her drink. “People ate it up.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. And I’m guessing from your tone, not much of the audience were on this super – uh – stan’s side?”

Nia pulled a face, taking an even larger swig.

Kara groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “This is awful. I- I just can’t believe how little faith they have in me now that they know the truth!”

Lena smiled her sympathy. “Take it from someone who was once deluded enough to fall right into that same category of hatefully ignorant.” She toasted her scotch glass to no one in particular, swirling its contents with a gentle twist of her wrist. “It’s not easy for people to accept that their larger-than-life hero was living amongst them.”

Kara’s head shot up in protest. “I never wanted anyone to put me on a pedestal.”

“Want has nothing to do about it. Like it or not, they did.” Lena paused, tucking her legs into the sofa’s arm. She fixed Kara with a level look. “Kara, I say this as your friend, but you have to understand how powerful you are in the eyes of a regular citizen. You fly, you shoot laser beams from your eyes, you’re bullet proof and fire proof. Your power is limitless and even though this city has seen you fall, they’ve also seen you get back up time and time again.”

Kara bit her lip. “That part I can understand, but it’s not just that. This podcaster isn’t only targeting my Supergirl persona. It’s Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El that they don’t trust.” She snorted, throwing her hands wide. “They think the fact that I’m working as CatCo’s Editor-in-Chief makes the whole platform inherently bias. And – yes – I know I’ve fought my own biases in the past, and it’s not like being impartial was what won me a Pulitzer, but to them— a superhero in the press just doesn’t appeal. They think I’m a fraud, that I’ve been manipulating public opinion.” Kara could feel her face begin to flush in frustration. She ran a hand through her hair, standing just to put her energy somewhere. She slammed a fist against her palm, taking a step around the coffee table with every beat. “But, I mean, don’t they remember how CatCo turned on Supergirl after the Red Kryptonite incident? And rightfully, too. I lost the people’s trust then, and now—now it’s happening all over again and I just… I don’t know how to win them back,” she laughed through her teeth, “or if I can win them back!”

Alex took Kara’s arm swiftly as she passed her by, tugging her to her side. “Hey, no one said this was gonna be easy.”

“I think those were Cat’s exact words, actually,” Nia said helpfully, pointing in Alex’s direction.

Kara huffed, anchored by her sister’s steadying hand. “Yeah? Well, they didn’t say it would be this difficult, either.”

“Don’t listen to a few angry voices,” Nia insisted, her voice sobering. “They aren’t worth your energy, trust me.”

“Are they just a few?” Kara asked grimly. If she tried hard enough, she was sure she could still tune into hundreds of versions of that same podcast playing from across the city. Whether they agreed with him or not, the people of National City and beyond were listening to this nameless podcaster, and that was dangerous enough on its own.

Nia smiled tightly, balling her knuckles against her lap. “Just don’t listen to them, okay?” She closed her eyes. “Look, people like to make a lot of noise when they feel like they’ve been lied to, but the truth is, they were never entitled to that information to begin with. When I did my Dreamer interview with you, a lot of people were so supportive; some of them even saw themselves in me, but there were always hateful voices that tried to drown out the positive ones.” She straightened her back, opening her eyes. “But, y’know, they make that much noise because they know they’re in the minority, and they do not have the power that they think. Putting it into perspective like that… it’s a lot easier to ignore them, especially when I know how many people I’ve helped by sharing my story.”

“You’re right,” Kara said softly. Because she was. Of course she was. A single podcast spouting a single negative view didn’t diminish everything good that had come out of Supergirl’s identity reveal. Yes, the celebrity-level thing took some getting used to and openly flying to work made her something of a spectacle when it came to the office situation, but for the most part, Kara was relieved to have that weight off her shoulders, and it was a joy to know just how many aliens felt more confident to live as themselves now that they knew Supergirl had also shared their struggle.

In truth, the world knowing where she had come from, who she had been ever since she’d landed on Earth, grounded her to the people in a way that had never struck quite the same as just Supergirl. And that was worth any amount of growing pains.

Kara reached out for Nia’s hand over the coffee table, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

Nia’s smile softened. “Any time.”

Lena cleared her throat, shifting higher against her pillow. “And, as for your job,” she said with a sly smile of her own, “let’s just say I know a thing or two about the public coming for your throat, deeming you unworthy of the position you’ve fairly worked your way up to. It’s just like Nia said, you ignore it, Kara. You ignore it because you have nothing to prove to anyone, you’re already doing one hell of a job as a journalist. Remain honest with yourself, and eventually people will see it. Not everyone of course.” She tilted her head, raising her glass to her lips. “You’ll never have everyone’s approval. If you did, well, I’d say you were on another planet, because that’s certainly not how the human race are wired.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nia chimed in, leaning up to clink her glass with Lena’s. She caught Kelly’s glass on her way back.

Kelly smiled fondly, though there was a strained edge to her expression when she said, “We’ve all had to work twice as hard to prove ourselves. And as much as it hurts, that extends to Supergirl as well.”

Kara sat back down with a sigh, leaning into the embrace that Alex readily offered her. “Cat once told me the same thing; right after she’d first claimed Supergirl, actually.”

“Exactly,” Alex said with a sage nod. She kissed her sister’s hair. “And, hey, Cat Grant won’t let a podcast beat down her creation. Hell, her empire is built on powerful women, it always has been, always will.” She gestured to everyone in the room. “You are all prime examples of that.”

Kara nudged her sister playfully, pushing out of her arms. “Hey, well, the amount of times the DEO has personally kept that building from crashing to the ground, I’d say you’re an honorary member of Cat’s empire, too.”

Alex’s nose crinkled. “I think I prefer the title of badass DEO leader, but I’ll take it.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “The point is, you have us, Kara.”

“Yeah.” Nia beamed. “And our opinion is worth a million times more than some crappy podcast.”

“Oh, cheers to that, too!” Alex laughed and they all converged with their glasses, meeting with a raucous clash over the coffee table.

Cheers rang out all ‘round, and Kara let the simple joy of that moment infect her. Their combined laughter easily blotted out any chances of hearing another word from that podcaster’s mouth.

She'd lost the taste for eavesdropping, anyway.

[xhunnybeeex]

Hayden christensen character music/playlist headcanons 

playlists at the bottom of sections :3

❥ ~ Sam Monroe ~ 

Sam Monroe ~ mainly listens to mall goth/ metal, that's just cannon. However, he DEFINITELY got really into other goth subgenres while finding cds. 

Sam Monroe ~ would have to be forced to admit he loves riot girl movies. 

“Is this bikini kill in your mixtape?” you ask Sam as you dig through his cds. “I didn't know you were into riot girl music.” “I'm not,” he grumbles. 

Sam Monroe ~ loves angry midwest emo music. He loves the emo whine. 

Sam Monroe ~ doesn’t have a very diverse taste. He only really likes alt genres, but every once in a while you'll see him nod his head to pop songs on the radio. 

"this is clearly a differnt genre what are you talking about" sam protest. "Theyre all just screaming how is that different!" you yell back.

Sam Monroe ~ is the type to say “name three songs”, but only in front of other alt people to look cool. 

Sam Monroe ~ loves the goth culture but doesn't know how to become part of it, especially without getting bullied. 

Sam Monroe ~  loves making mixtapes with songs he likes to pair together, even if they sounds the same 

Sam monroe playlist done by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

❥ ~ Anakin Skywalker ~ 

Anakin Skywalker ~ obviously doesn’t have any cannon music taste so the following playlist is all what I PERSONALLY think Anakin would like to listen to or are him “coded”. This one was the hardest for me to do and is honestly probably the most inaccurate. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ is clearly pretty when he cries, and very lana del rey coded

Anakin Skywalker ~ would have a very open music taste, he listens to what people show him

Anakin Skywalker ~ likes classic rock and acoustic music from obi wan, sad girl music from ahsoka (oh you know she showed him mitski), and softer popy music from padme. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ never knows the names of artists, always has to hum songs for people to know what he's talking about. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ always asks Ahsoka to play her music when flying, but he'll always deny that he does. 

“Why don't you pick your own music for once!” Ahsoka groans in annoyance, rubbing her face in her hands. “Cause i'm flying! "Anakin yells back in protest. “Just admit you like my music.” Ahsoka smirks, plugging her comlink into the ship and getting her playlist on. Anakin stays silent. Pretending not to hear her and stares off at the stars in front of him as he flys. 

Anakin Skywalker playlist by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

❥ ~Stephen Glass ~

Stephen Glass ~ has a very diverse taste in all sorts of funky music

Stephen Glass ~ who lives for folk music but also is obsessed with pop music 

Stephen Glass ~ can’t not have Lady gaga on his playlists and knows all her songs. He yells at people who don't know summer boy because that's his favorite. 

Stephen Glass ~ who grew up on bob dylan and the beatles

Stephen Glass ~ was always a Brittany defender and refused to do journalism about her. He would never lie about the queen herself. 

“Did you guys see that britney spears-” his co workers gossip. “I need to be excused.” Stephen immediately stands up and walks anywhere from the conversation. He doesn’t want to hear what they say, and no one wants to know what he would respond with. 

Stephen Glass ~ loves to relax to calming 70s music. 

Stephen Glass ~ is a huge music nerd, but isn't even aware of it. 

“This is Joni Mitchel, she's super cool. She's canadian. I just found that out. I’ve been listening to her for years but I just found out. Crazy huh?” Stephen rambles. You chuckle in amazement on how much he knows and how fast his lips move. “Jeez you sure know a lot about music.” Stephen shakes his head and smiles. “Oh no, not really. I couldn't even play anything if I tried. But anyway did you know-” 

Stephen Glass playlist made by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

A/N///: OMGGG im very happy to fianlly have stuff posted again. i have been so out of it lately. this is my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me. i have had this sam monroe playlist made for a while now and it gave me the idea to make a lil post about it. i hope yall enjoy and maybe even have a listen. happy thanksgiving and stay hot. - beee!

[girlbot666]

advice for university students who have a hard time getting work done aka the things that my ADHD-having ass needed 3 fucking semesters to learn :

1. go to class. GO TO CLASS. yes, even if the lectures are recorded. yes, even if you have other work you really need to do right now. you will fall behind if you don't and it will suck. next time you have class you will think, "I can't go to class today because I still haven't caught up with the material from the previous class" and then you'll do that several times and then you'll haven fallen really far behind and it will really suck. when you show up to class, keeping up with assignments will just naturally follow.

2. do not try to get work done in your room. it will not happen. no matter how much you don't want to leave, you have to do it, you have to leave. go to a library, or a cafe, or even just a different room in your house/dorm if you don't want to change out of your pjs (and even if you're one of those people who *can* get studying done in your room [couldn't be me], separating the environments you work in and relax in will feel so much better, i promise!).

3. go to office hours. if it's one of those STEM class office/peer tutoring hours where lots of people are being helped at once, it's especially important that you go. the material is designed to be challenging and you're not expected to be able to do it on your own. it's also a great way to hold yourself accountable to getting the work done on time. literally just put on some noise-cancelling headphones and work on stuff there until you have a question.

4. start on your big assignments EARLY. working on one essay or project and almost nothing else for 2 days straight leads to burnout. start at least 2 weeks in advance, and work on it everyday for just an hour, maybe 2. setting time-based goals is key here. it makes the assignment feel less intimidating. it's easy to convince yourself to work on it even if you don't want to because, hey, it's only an hour. once you start getting bored or frustrated, it's not too hard to power through, since it's only an hour. and if you're getting super distracted and really struggling to focus you can switch gears to something else guilt-free, and then return to it tomorrow with fresh eyes and a fresh mind.

5. inevitably, you'll fuck up. you'll do poorly on a test, you'll miss an assignment, you'll not understand things you're learning in class, you'll get nervous during a presentation. some days, you might not even fuck up necessarily, you'll just feel bad. when it happens, take a step back. acknowledge and honor your emotions. you might feel sad or disappointed or ashamed. treat yourself with kindness and compassion. try not to judge yourself, recognize that your feelings are natural and normal. take care of yourself like you would take care of a friend who was in your position. do some easy assignments, then wrap up work early. eat something, talk to someone or journal about it, do some cleaning, take a shower, and go to bed early. maybe it feels like you shouldn't because you have too much work to do, but trust that addressing your heavy emotions is more productive than just powering through. personally, if i don't do this, the feeling of shame lingers in my subconscious and i spiral for several days. like, don't get out of bed or eat or do any work kind of spiraling. perhaps the consequences are not as material for you. regardless, honoring your emotions and treating yourself with compassion is a life-long skill that is always worth practicing. your mental health will thank you for it.

[ravenromanova]

I don’t like gifts

Parings: Loki x Female reader

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!! Master kink, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (m and f), Squirting, Praise kink. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!! Slight angst with happy ending, Fluffy Loki.

Kinkmas masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~ You smiled as you put the finishing touches on the final gift for your team. This specific gift though you spent extra time in picking out and wrapping wanting to make sure it was perfect. Granted the person it was for didn’t like gifts and thought the whole holiday was stupid. But you ended up getting him some nonetheless because he deserves something nice.

Once you finished you put all the presents in a bag and headed to the living room. The sounds of christmas music and laughter filled your ears as you walked into the room. There sat your family, the people who you loved more than anything sitting around the fireplace. Smiles adorned everyone’s face as they exchanged gifts and shared stories. The only person you didn’t see though was Loki though which wasn’t surprising but still a little disappointing.

“Heya sunshine!” Steve beamed as he walked up and took the bag of presents from you to help you. “Are these for the whole team?” He asked a little shocked with how much you got everyone.

“Uh yea i might’ve gone a little overboard” You responded a little sheepishly. Steve sat the gifts next to the tree where Tony and Pepper handing out gifts to everyone.

“Might’ve is an understatement sunshine” Tony chimed in as you sat on the couch next to Wanda. You smiled shyly as Tony started handing out the gifts you got for everyone.

Bucky got two new knives and a book about astrology. Natasha received a new thigh holster and gun. Wanda got more of her favorite painting supplies. Vision got a book called “emotions for dummies” which everyone found hysterical. You got Clint new arrows to which he thanked you profusely since Kate lost all of his and you also gave him gifts for his family. Peter got new comic books. Steve got a new sketch pad and pencils. Kate got a new super suit and Lucky got a pizza toy. Yelena got three bottles of vodka and a knife. Tony and Pepper got an all expenses paid trip to cancun for a week. Morgan got endless barbie dolls and stuffed animals. Thor got ten big boxes of pop tarts. Bruce got a new lab coat and a bunch of sciencey books you didn’t understand. Pietro received three hoodies and new running shoes that he’d been wanting for a while. You also got the guardians and Carol gifts but they weren’t on earth right now so they get them when they came back. And last but not least you got Loki a first addition of pride and prejudice, two new knives with gold and green details engraved, a new journal with feather pens and a soft dark green blanket.

The reactions everyone gave to their gifts made your heart grow three sizes. Pretty much everyone gave you a hug… even the bionic staring machine which took you by surprise. And on the flip side you got more gifts than you thought possible.

Tony gave you five grand in cash. Pepper got you a huge basket of self care goodies. Morgan gave you multiple drawings of you and her doing her favorite things together. Nat and Wanda gave you a spa gift certificate claiming you need to relax more. Vision gave you the new pots and pans set you’d been wanting forever. Clint and Kate along with his family got you a puppy you named “Lucy” and some new hoodies. Bucky gave you a knife to which you both laughed. Bruce and Steve teamed up and got you atleast fifteen books. Thor gave you endless sweets and candy. Yelena gave you five bottles of your favorite liquor. Peter gave you a new supersuit that him and Tony designed specially for you. Pietro thoughtfully got you some soft throw blankets, slippers and a new stuffed unicorn.

Needless to say by the end of the gift exchange you never felt so loved by everyone. The night ended around one am when everyone decided to head to bed. But fortunately for you this was your time to give Loki his gifts. You knew he was more than likely hiding out in the library not wanting to deal with humans and their stupid holiday. So once everyone bid goodnight you gathered his gifts and headed to the library.

And of course when you entered the library there he was in all his glory. He was sitting in the bay window is the library reading a book with a slight smile on his face. The light of the moon hit his face lightly and made him look even more ethereal than normal.

“Hey Lo” You said softly as you approached him with all his gifts in hands.

“Hello” Was all he replied with making you frown a little.

“You weren’t at the gift exchange “ You stated with your brows furrowed causing him to look up at you.

“That is correct” His voice was gruff as he spoke making your knees a little weak and your heart sped up.

“Well i know you think this holiday is dumb but i still got you some gifts” Your words caused him to raise his eyebrows at you and scoff a little.

“I don’t like gifts” He said as he closed the book and turned to fully face you. The way his eyes bore into your soul made you even more nervous about giving him the gifts than before.

“Yeah well i still got you some so deal with it” The sassiness of your words surprised the both of you. He smirked and nodded his head a little telling you to hand him the gifts. You swallow your nerves and hand him the wrapped gifts with shaky hands.

Loki takes the gifts and starts unwrapping them one by one inspecting each of them as he goes. You watched as his eyes lit up as he ran his fingers across the lettering on the book, how he moved the new blades in between his fingertips, his fingers grasped the dark green fabric of the blanket and he smiled softly, and you swore he giggled a little at the new journal and pens.

“I take it back” He said suddenly as he looks at all the gifts. “I love gifts” The smile that adorned his face made your heart melt.

“You like them?” You asked nervously. Loki then stood up and took your hands into his and his blue green eyes stared into your soul.

“y/n i love them” He said honestly and you smiled brightly at his words. His hands moved up your arms and then cupped the sides of your face. “Tell me if you want me to stop” He whispered as he leaned in.

“Dont stop” You whispered back looking up at him. That was all it took for his lips to crash into yours and bring you in for a bruising and passionate kiss. The both of you simultaneously moaned at the taste of each other.

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even notice that he teleported you two to his room. But eventually you had to come up for air which is when you finally realized.

“I like your room” The words were soft as they left your lips. Your eyes scanned his room and you took in the dark green couch, extremely soft looking bedding and the ancient paintings that adorned the walls. The room was decorated just like you thought it would be.

“I think you’ll like it a lot better on my bed” His boldness made you weak in the knees and arousal pool in between your thighs.

“I think i would too” You said with a smile as you climbed onto his bed. “Oh yea this is definitely better” Loki smiled as he watched you sprawl out on his bed.

“You most certainly belong there pet” His voice was low and his eyes darkened as he slowly crawled on top of you. “Such a pretty pet” He cooed rubbing his calloused fingers over your cheekbones.

“I need you” The pleading look in your eyes made his cock stir in his pants. He then flicked his wrist and suddenly you were fully naked underneath him.

“I’m going to ruin you for any other man” He husked in your ear causing a shiver to course through your body. His rough hands trailed up and down your body as he admired your beauty.

Loki slowly cupped your face again and brought you in for a much more passionate and loving kiss. He snaked his hand in between your thighs as he kissed you making you moan in his mouth.

“So wet for me” He kissed below your ear before he sat on his knees and looked at your pussy with desire. He smiled again before he decided to get comfortable in between your thighs.

Your brows furrowed in confusion . “W-What are you doing?” Your voice was laced in nervousness as you looked directly into his eyes.

“I need to taste your pet” And without any further explanation his tongue darted out and licked a bold strip asking your folds.

“Oh god!” The sensation of his warm mouth on you made your back arches off the bed and your eyes shut in pleasure.

“As much as i love hearing that title fall from your lips… it’s master to your pet” Your eyes snapped open at his words and you nodded your head in understanding. “Words pet or i wont touch you” He commanded bringing his free hand to grip your chin.

“Yes master” A smile quickly over to his face as you spoke and that was enough for him to dive back in. He spread your lips and started sucking on your clit like a man starved.

You threw your head back on the pillow feeling overwhelmed but in a good way. The sensation was something you’ve never felt before but welcomed it with open arms. The way his tongue lapped the bundle of nerves make you reel in pleasure.

“I-I’m gonna cum master” The words were broken as they fell past your lips.

“Cum for me pet be a good girl and cum” He commanded and before you even registered his words he was shoving two of his thick fingers in you.

“OH FUCK!!” Your hands flew to his raven locks and pulled for dear life at the intrusion. His fingers curled as he thrusted them into you and hit your g-spot deliciously. Before you could speak again your felt your orgasm rip through you and you came all over Loki’s face.

Loki smiled as he came up from between your thighs and he licked his fingers clean. “You taste as delicious as you look pet” His praises made your heart speed up again and another wave of arousal hit you.

“I wanna taste you master” You pleaded sitting up on your knees and moving your gave up and down his body. “Youre wearing too much clothing” You whined as your snaked your hand under his black t shirt.

“So eager to please” He smiled as he flicked his wrist again and he was naked in front of you. You couldn’t help but marvel at the god in front of you. His tanned skin, rippled abs, thick thighs, and not to mention his pretty cock. Never in your life did you ever find a man’s dick attractive but holy fuck his was perfect.

His hands on your cheeks brought you out of your trance. “Go ahead pet make your master feel good” His gruff voice was enough to send you over the edge again. You simply smiled at him and changed positions so he was laying against the pillows.

Once he was situated on the against the pillows you settled in between his thighs but not before kissing all over him first. Finally you got settled and sent him a devious smile. At first you started slow with some gentle kitten licks and kisses all up and down his shaft making sure to pay attention to the thick vein running from base to tip.

“Fuck” You heard him moan when you finally took him into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down and luckily your gag reflex wasn’t a problem. “Just like that baby” He groaned and you hummed at the new nickname falling from his lips which in turn make his cock twitch.

You continued sucking him like a lollipop which caused a series of moans and profanities fall from his lips. Suddenly his hands were in your hair and he pulled your head up.

“As much as i’m loving this is much rather cum in you than your mouth my dear pet” He said softly rubbing his finger over toe bottom lip.

“Please” You begged him sitting back on your knees and then slowly crawled on top of his lap. His hands found home on your hips as he helped you straddle him.

“Gonna make you feel so good” Loki said with determination along with his signature smirk.

“Please master” Your begged again as you lined yourself up with his aching cock. That was all the go ahead he needed and before you knew it he was slamming himself into you.

“Oh gods” You moaned throwing your head back in pleasure. Loki gave you time to adjust to his size before he started thrusting into you.

“So fucking tight” He groaned squeezing your hips harder. Your hands flew to his chest and you held on tight as you rode him. Never in your life had you felt this full and satisfied. And now that you’ve had a taste of what being with him was like you knew you couldn’t be without him again.

“Fuck Loki i’m gonna cum!” The moan that escaped you was nothing short of sinful.

“Cum for me pet” He demanded as his thrusts became harder and rougher. It didn’t take much longer for you and him to cum with loud and pornographic moans. Loki came and filled you with every last drop of his seed till there was nothing left.

“Oh fuck” You said breathlessly as you collapsed onto his chest. “That was fucking amazing”

“Agreed” He said rubbing his hands up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“I dont want this to be a one time thing Loki” You admitted still laying on his chest not wanting to look him in the eye.

“Who said this was a one time thing darling? Who said i wasn’t planning on keeping you here forever?” He said as he brought his fingers up lightly from your chin and look up at him.

“Really?” The question came out more insecure than you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Really” He brought his hands to your face again ava kissed you passionately. It was that moment you knew he was the one for you.

“I love you Loki” You smiled brightly as you held onto his face.

“I love you too darling” He responded with so much passion and love in his voice something you knew was only for your abs that made it that much better.

Shortly after the both of you fell into a blissful sleep wrapped around each other. Content smiles adorned both your faces as you two slept. Neither of you thought you end up here when you first walked into the library tonight but couldn’t be happier that it did.

~The end~ A/n: I GOT WAY TO CARRIED AWAY BUT OH WELL!! i hope you enjoyed by first loki story ;)