#tans-writes

[alboinz]

elf in a phone booth

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“Hey, I got you some ice cream”

You heard the voice of Jim Street next to you as he held the ice cream in front of your face making you smile.

“Thanks” you took the ice cream “What’s the occasion?”

“You were complaining how hot it was today, so I thought about getting you ice cream while we took a call.” He explained smiling.

You let out a dramatic gasp with an open mouth “Officer Street are you telling me that while your team was out there chasing a criminal you went to get ice cream?”

He chuckles at you “No, I meant after”

As you were eating the ice cream “Well it’s ice cream I don’t care if some bad guy was running around the city I have the best thing known to man.”

Street knew your love for ice cream so he knows this would make your day, Deacon and Hondo made their way to you as they heard your statement.

“Don’t let Higgs hear you saying that.” Hondo said as he chuckles.

“He would think you would sell the entire LAPD for ice cream if someone bribed you.” Deacon commented.

You looked at him as you ate “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t do that.”

The man stood there shocked, that’s when you, Street and Hondo burst into laughter. All through the day after every call one of the guys got you something, you got ice cream, iced coffee, smoothie whatever it was it was cold and you were thankful for that. At the end of the day when your shift ended you were in pain as you were making your way out of the building, the guys were in front of you when Luca turned to look at you.

“What’s wrong with you? You don’t look good.” He tells you.

Everyone turned to look at you.

“I think all the things I got today kind of effected my stomach” you tell them “Next time I complain of the heat just throw me in an ice bath okay” you groan.

They laughed at your comment and Luca gave you a pill to help with the stomachache.

A/N: finally wrote something.

[stilinskiandthebanshee]

Falling Into The Stars | Natalie Scatorccio x Kevyn's Sister!Reader

Part One | Part Two (Coming Soon) | Masterlist (Coming Soon)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: None really yet. Smoking, mentions of grief, and dead parents.

Summary: You're back in Wisayok, carrying grief and secrets, landing under the awkward watch of your half-brother Kevyn. The house feels unfamiliar—and then there’s Natalie: cool, mysterious, and smirking like she’s waiting for something to unravel. Sparks aren’t flying yet, but the air between you is charged. This isn’t just a homecoming—it’s the start of something complicated.

a/n: I don't love this chapter guys, but I've been going over and over it for days at this point, so I just had to put it out there. Truly, this is just a lot of setup for what's to come!

It was a chilly day in Wisayok, the kind of wet, heavy cold that clung to your skin and soaked into your bones. Rain tapped steadily against your cheeks—a welcome change after the brutal heat wave that had blanketed the town all week. It almost felt like the weather was trying to match the storm inside you, like the sky was doing its best impression of grief. Heavy clouds. Fat raindrops. Like the universe knew. 

Kevyn’s ratty old truck rattled beneath you, the engine sputtering loud enough to drown out whatever mumbled track was playing through the radio. None of it registered. You kept your head against the cold glass of the passenger-side window, watching trees blur past like they couldn’t get away fast enough.

When the truck lurched to a stop, you blinked back into the moment. The parking lot was mostly empty—figures, considering Kev insisted on getting there early. Claimed it was so you could get settled before the crowd rolled in. But you knew better. He wanted time to find his friends and get high behind the gym.

Not that you were one to judge. The cigarettes in your pocket might as well have been screaming your name.

Kevyn tapped the steering wheel, hesitant. You could feel his eyes on you before he even said anything.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Dad said you didn’t have to rush back to s—”

You cut him off before he could finish. He’d been hovering like this since the second you showed up on their porch—arms full of your shit, face still streaked with tears after your mom died.

 Hell, he’d been like this since the day you were born, always trying to play the protector. Always a few steps too late.

“I’m fine, Kev,” you said, pushing the door open before he could argue.

The air outside felt thick. Stale. A few early arrivals were scattered across the lot, their curious glances sticking to you like static. You didn’t look at them. Didn’t have to. You already knew what they were thinking.

Kevyn showing up to school with a girl in his truck? That had to be news.

Most of them probably didn’t even know he had a sister.

You kept your head down as you made your way to the principal’s office, hoodie pulled up until the front desk lady barked at you to take it off. You did, barely, and dropped into the chair outside his door, arms crossed, trying not to look like you were crawling out of your skin.

You barely heard a word Mr. Whatever was saying once he ushered you inside. Something about pep rallies and school spirit and tryout dates. Your eyes stayed fixed on the clock. You didn’t care.

You were already missing your old school. Your old teams.

 Your old life.

The one where your mom woke you up with pancakes and you led your cheer squad to States. Not the waking nightmare you’d landed in two months ago, the one no one seemed able to pull you out of.

You felt dazed as Mr. Hampton led you through the halls, pointing out classrooms like it mattered. You half-listened, nodding when he paused in front of a door and told you to wait out first period in study hall. You barely nodded before slipping away the second his back turned.

You didn’t even think twice—just kept walking until you found somewhere away from all the unfamiliar stares, the curious whispers that made your skin itch.

There was a green utility box near the edge of the field, probably a generator or something, and you slid behind it without hesitation. It was just tucked away enough that you could hear the girls on the soccer field but not see their faces. Their laughter felt like it belonged to a world you used to live in.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the half-crushed pack of cigarettes, one already between your lips before you had time to second-guess it. It was a nasty habit you’d picked up at your last school, something casual that turned chronic once your mom got sick.

The first inhale was heaven. That familiar buzz in your chest finally quieting the noise in your head, just long enough to breathe.

A voice cut through the cheers—sharp, loud, unmistakably cocky. “Come on, that was barely a touch!”

You peeked around the corner, just for a second, catching the tail end of a blonde ponytail and a flash of athletic tape wrapped around lean fingers. Whoever she was, she’d gotten the attention of the whole field. You couldn’t see her face, not clearly, but the way she moved—confident, relaxed, like she owned the space—sent an odd flutter through your chest.

You shook off, retreating further behind the wall, taking another drag. Didn’t matter who she was. You were only here to keep your head down until graduation—then get far away from this shitty town and every bittersweet memory of your mom it held.

—----

The day passed quicker than expected. Bound to happen when you barely showed up to any classes, instead drifting between bathrooms and empty study halls. You learned fast: when no one knew your name, it was easy to disappear.

By eighth period, guilt, or maybe boredom, convinced you to show face. One class. Just enough to make it seem like you tried. And even if you’d never admit it, Art had always been your thing. A throwaway for most, but not for you. You took a seat in the far corner, pulling out your sketchbook—the worn, half-filled one Kevyn and your dad had given you for your last birthday. They’d been desperate back then, offering anything they could to coax out a smile. It hadn’t worked at the time, but now… now it was the only thing that made sense.

The teacher’s voice droned on with the usual first-day crap: rules, rubrics, supply lists. You were barely listening until the door swung open, and his sigh cut through the haze.

“Mrs. Scatorccio. Late on the first day. Off to a fantastic start.”

That voice.

Your head snapped up. And there she was. The same girl from the field. The blonde. Only now, she wasn’t just a blur of motion and laughter across the grass. Now she was front and center, and it hit… different.

She had that kind of presence that demanded attention without trying. A leather jacket slouched over her shoulders like she couldn’t be bothered to wear it properly, dark eyeliner smudged in a way that looked accidental but perfect. A half-lazy smile tugged at her mouth, like she found the whole thing amusing.

“Got a reputation to uphold, don’t I?” she said, voice smooth like honey laced with trouble.

The teacher rolled his eyes and waved her off, already over it. But before you could look away, her eyes met yours. Green. Bright, vivid, and just shy of brown if you weren’t paying close enough attention.

You looked away fast—too fast. She noticed. And then she was moving.

Straight toward you.

Your stomach did something traitorous. Not a flutter, exactly. More like a twitch of nerves you couldn’t quite explain. You told yourself it was annoyance. Or dread.

She stopped in front of your desk, plaid skirt swaying slightly as she tilted her head.

“You’re in my seat, newbie.”

Then, with a smirk and a gentle kick to the leg of your desk, she dropped into the chair beside you.

“But you look so cute back here, brooding in the corner. I’ll let it slide this time.”

Her voice was teasing—casual, like it wasn’t meant to stick. But it did. It lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, caught between a scoff and a shiver.

You tried not to stare as she pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket. No backpack. No pencil case. Nothing. That was what she was planning to draw on?

You glanced back down at your sketchbook, suddenly too aware of how tightly your fingers were gripping it.

Who even was this girl?

Her presence felt suffocating beside you, even though she wasn’t doing anything in particular. Just there. Scribbling across that balled-up scrap of paper like it was no big deal, leaning back in her chair like this was her living room, not a classroom. Something about the way she moved—loose, careless, like none of it mattered—itched beneath your skin. Like a splinter you couldn’t dig out.

She leaned in without warning, her breath brushing the side of your neck. It sent a cold shiver skating across your skin. You didn’t look at her. Refused to. You stared straight ahead, stiff as her fingers curled over the edges of your desk.

“Hey, newbie,” she murmured, voice low and lazy. “Can I borrow a sheet of paper?”

You exhaled hard, reaching into your sketchbook and yanking out a page with more force than necessary. Anything to get her to back off. You shoved it her way without making eye contact.

“Thanks,” she said, quiet but with that unmistakable grin threading through her voice. She knew exactly what she was doing. And worse—you knew she knew.

“You make a habit of showing up late and unprepared?” you muttered, trying to sound indifferent, even as your pencil dug too hard into the paper.

She laughed. A short, surprised breath like you’d caught her off guard. You could feel her smile shift from smug to genuinely amused.

“Nah,” she said, stretching her arms behind her like she couldn’t be bothered. “Only when there’s a cute girl I can bum some off of.”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. Of course she was that kind of person—someone who could flirt with a brick wall and convince it to blush. “Smooth,” you muttered, voice dry.

She didn’t say anything at first. For a second, you let yourself believe maybe she’d finally lost interest. Maybe that was it.

But then, quiet and sure, her voice cut through again.

“Made you blush, though.”

The rest of class passed in a blur. Or maybe that was just your survival response kicking in—pretend you weren’t still hyper-aware of the girl next to you who hadn’t said another word but kept doodling like she wasn’t sitting directly inside your personal space.

You bolted the second the bell rang.

Your plan was simple: get to the parking lot before Kevyn so you could stare into space for a few minutes and maybe finish another cigarette before heading home.

What you didn’t expect was to see her there again.

Leaning against Kevyn’s truck like she owned it. Leather jacket still slung over her shoulders, plaid skirt hitched just enough to look deliberate. She was talking to him—fucking laughing, even—and whatever she said made him roll his eyes and shove her lightly on the arm.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

No. No way.

As if sensing you, Kevyn looked up and waved you over like this was completely normal. “There she is! Took you long enough.”

She turned to look at you, and that same lazy smile spread across her face like she’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“Hey again, newbie.”

You blinked, still trying to do the mental math.

Kevyn gestured between the two of you, utterly oblivious. “You met Natalie already? She’s been riding with me since sophomore year. Her car’s been in the shop since… forever, basically.”

Natalie winked. “I like the chauffeur service. Full perks, no gas money.”

You said nothing, just stared at her. This girl—the cocky, chaotic storm who called you cute in class—was Kevyn’s friend?

Perfect.

You didn’t respond, just let out a quiet huff as you chucked your backpack into the back seat and climbed in after it. Natalie’s grin widened like she’d won some kind of game, while Kevyn shot you a confused side glance, like he couldn’t figure out why the air had suddenly gone tense.

You turned to the window and prayed for a short ride.

They talked the whole time, laughing like this was just another Tuesday. You tuned most of it out, eyes trained on the passing trees, until the sharp smell of smoke hit your nose and made your head lift instinctively.

Natalie had a cigarette between her fingers, her elbow hanging out the open window. She caught your stare in the side mirror and smirked as she exhaled a long stream of smoke, slow and deliberate. Her eyes sparkled, amused and a little daring.

“Want a hit?” she asked casually, like it was nothing.

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers twitched anyway. Of course, she had to be the one to light up first, ruining your escape plan before it even started. Still, you reached out, fingers brushing hers more than you meant to as you snatched the cigarette.

Kevyn let out a half-hearted, “Seriously?” but didn’t stop you.

You took a long drag, the smoke hitting your lungs with a familiar burn. You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut, trying not to think about the way Natalie was still watching you in the mirror like she was reading something written on your skin.

“Nat,” Kevyn groaned. You could see him glaring at you in the rearview mirror. “Don’t start corrupting my little sister.”

You flipped him off without opening your eyes. “Relax. It’s just a cigarette.”

Natalie laughed under her breath, nudging him with her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

That made something in your chest flutter, annoyingly light.

Kevyn muttered, “That’s not saying much.”

You let the corners of your mouth twitch before you took one last drag and handed it back, avoiding her fingers this time. Your eyes slid shut again, the warmth of the smoke lingering in your chest, and the feeling of her gaze still burning into the side of your face.

The house was still when you walked in, the door creaking on its hinges like it didn’t recognize you anymore. The stale scent of microwave lasagna and old cigarettes clung to the air, mixing with the distant hum of the television. Your dad was passed out in his recliner, mouth slightly open, the soft glow of a crime show flickering across his face.

Kevyn tossed his keys into the dish like always and headed to the kitchen. “There’s food if you want it,” he called. “What’s left of it.”

You didn’t answer. Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of your sleeve as you climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. Your room was just as you’d left it—bare, except for the sketchbook on the nightstand and a laundry basket full of clothes you still hadn’t unpacked.

You collapsed on the bed, letting the weight of the day press into your chest. The sketchbook found its way into your hands without much thought. You flipped it open to the eyes you’d started drawing in class—sharp and bright, half-smirking even in pencil.

Green.

You snapped the book shut like it had burned you.

A soft knock at the door.

Kevyn didn’t wait before pushing it open. “Hey. Dad wants to do a dinner thing tomorrow night. Like... all of us. Actual table, actual food. He’s trying.” He gave a tired shrug. “Sort of.”

“Sure,” you muttered.

He lingered, rocking slightly on his heels.

“What?” you asked.

Kevyn scratched the back of his head. “Just… Natalie.”

You tensed. “What about her?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, reading you like he always could. “She’s not someone you should get close to.”

That pulled your attention. You sat up a little. “Why? Because she bums cigarettes and shows up late to class?”

He crossed his arms. “Because I’ve known her for years. She’s a lot, and she’s not careful with people. She’s one of my closest friends, and I’m telling you: she’s a mess, and she’ll drag you into it.”

There was something sharper in his tone now, something that hit a nerve.

You scoffed. “You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to.”

He didn’t flinch. “No, but I will tell you who’s trouble. She’s not for you. Not now.”

You stared at him, heart thrumming for reasons you didn’t care to examine.

“I’m not asking for a lecture,” you muttered. “I’m just trying to survive a day here.”

Kevyn’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes stayed firm. “I’m serious. Just... be careful around her, okay? You don’t need that kind of chaos on top of everything else.”

He turned to go, hesitated in the doorway, then added, “I’m not trying to control you. I’m just—”

“Protecting me,” you finished, voice flat.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. “Yeah.”

He left you alone then, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

And all you could think about, as the room grew quiet again, was the way Natalie had looked at you in the rearview mirror. Like she already knew she was a storm you were going to walk into anyway.

[ckret2]

So I heard y'all are really eager to see Bill shipped with an old man. This is what you wanted, right??

(Sorry, it's still gonna be a while yet before we get to the old man y'all are looking for.)

Chapter 80 of that fic with human Bill as the Mystery Shack's increasingly casual prisoner: the government comes snooping around the shack again, scaring the crap out of everybody—including Bill, who's too nervous about getting arrested to realize he's being flirted with.

####

Bill woke late in the morning to the smell of dead fish and a subtle but insistent full-body itch. It was one of the most pleasant mornings he'd had since he died.

Sunburn, he thought. No surprise there. He dragged the false nails that had survived since the girls' sleepover across his shoulder and reveled in the way the pain was momentarily relieved and then flared back up twice as strong as before. Sunburns had always been one of his favorite human sensations, that constant pleasant background burn prickling across his skin and blazing higher any time he was touched; he hadn't realized just how much he'd been missing them while he was locked inside. He wasn't built to be out of the sunlight.

While most of him just vaguely itched, the bands of skin around his waist and upper thighs where he'd applied the anti-sunscreen were on fire. When he tossed aside his bedsheet to inspect, he was satisfied to see the difference the anti-sunscreen had made—the skin was only slightly darker and ruddier, but it was visibly leathery with tiny bumps. It was a good start. Still—they might have been more visible if the rest of him were less sunburned.

He pushed that thought from his mind. He'd sooner die again than admit that sunscreen might have been a good idea for any reason. If the lines weren't visible enough after the sunburn healed, next time he could strengthen the anti-sunscreen recipe and shoot for blisters, that might leave scars.

He dug his nails into one of the more deeply burned lines and was hit with a dizzying rush of euphoria as the burned skin screamed in pain. Oh, he could happily do that all morning. But first maybe he should get some breakfast.

He rolled off the sofa, landed on all fours on the floor, and grabbed Journal 4 from under the sofa—he'd left it there with the pages spread out so the watery fish brains he'd finger painted on each page didn't glue the book shut. He documented last night's "dream"—he'd haunted the halls like a ghost, collecting what tools he could access to start repairing the portal—then hid the journal behind the sofa in the window seat's cushion where it belonged. He still needed to find a better hiding place for it. Maybe after breakfast. 

There hadn't been a grocery run since he'd acquired his new fridge, so all he had upstairs were half a dozen condiments, a bag of tortilla chips, and enough cider to kill a horse. If he could get somebody to open the kitchen fridge, maybe he could steal the eggs, that was probably the single most nutrient-dense ingredient currently in the house; that'd keep him going between meals until grocery day...

Where were his clothes.

The t-shirt and bikini he'd worn to the beach yesterday were still flung across the sofa; but the box he'd stuffed all his other clothing in had vanished. He stared at the shelf it was supposed to be on. His hoodie. Who'd stolen his skin?

He scowled.

He folded his Pony Heist bedsheet lengthwise, folded it around his waist and rolled it down like a sarong, pulled on the t-shirt and his eyepatch, and stalked from his room.

The kids' bedroom door had been left open. No sign of Bill's clothes in there, but he found an important clue: Dipper's ever-present mountain of dirty clothing was gone. Laundry day. Soos must have mistaken Bill's box of perfectly clean clothes for dirty laundry and stolen the whole thing. Great.

While he was momentarily unsupervised in the kids' room, he flipped through Dipper's journal, annotated some of the recent pages with helpful info and added an embarrassing anecdote about Ford's research years (all in code, of course), and stole Mabel's glass pyramid and a pair of pink sunglasses that were shaped like the words "RAD DUDE" from her bedside table. He stashed the pyramid in his room on the window seat.

And then he headed downstairs, trying to mentally calculate the most impactful way to whine about his clothes having been stolen in order to make Soos feel as guilty as possible without making himself look pathetic.

"Hey Bill!" Mabel called from the living room. She held up a couple of headbands; she'd wrapped two pipe cleaners around each that stuck up like antennae. Foam stars were glued to the ends of one headband's pipe cleaners and pompom bees to the other. "I'm making deely boppers! Do you want one?"

"More than anything!" Bill claimed the one with bees and shoved it down over his tangled hair. Mabel was in here doing crafts, Dipper was watching crappy local TV—Bill couldn't get into the gift shop with them in here as witnesses. "Hey, here's something crazy: did you kids ever notice the stairs to the attic have 32 steps going up and 28 steps going down?"

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other; and then ran for the stairs. "No way!" "How's that possible?"

That would keep them occupied for a few minutes. Bill backed through the gift shop door.

Wendy looked up from her phone. "What up, dude."

"Hey, cool girl!" He spun around on his heel and trotted over to lean against her counter. "If anyone asks, you let me into the shop."

"Got it." She glanced at Bill's sarong. "Is this the return of Toga Guy?"

"Nope; laundry day."

"Oh, yeah. Washing machine's been going all morning," Wendy said. "Soos says Ford's been running around in a coat that smells like nasty lake water, so he stole it."

"And stole my box of perfectly clean clothes." Bill refused to entertain the possibility that this might be partially his own fault for making his room smell like dead fish. The smell would air out! "So I'm gonna humiliate him for it in front of his tour group."

Wendy laughed. "Don't do that, man. You know what he's like, sometimes he makes goofy mistakes." She gave him a quizzical look. "You keep your clothes in a box?"

Right, he'd been keeping Wendy teetering on the edge of thinking Bill was in an unsafe situation here. Was there any benefit to her knowing how inhumane his living conditions were? Not at the moment, when things were finally improving. "Shack's run out of guest rooms and I didn't need new clothes in the mindscape! We just shoved my clothes in a crate until we can get a spare dresser or something." Topic change! "Hey—I saw your brother beating up a fish at the lake yesterday."

"Oh yeah, you mean dinner? Marcus was so proud of his catch. He did the worst job deboning it, though. I almost got a surprise lip piercing." Wendy stuck out her tongue. "What about you guys? Soos says you fought Bigfoot or something?"

"They did. Ask the Stans for the details; while they were catching fish, I was catching rays," Bill said. "And I think I was more successful than them."

"Suntanning?" Wendy took in his blatantly sunburned appearance.

"Unless you're about to say 'oh wow, you look great!' say something different," Bill said. "Anyway, I'm a wilting houseplant! I have a sunlight deficit I'm trying to catch up on." He glanced wistfully toward the window in the door and the bright beautiful day outside. "If I didn't have to ask someone to let me in and out, I'd be out there right now."

He'd been angling for Wendy to graciously offer to help escort him outside. Instead, she said, "Oh, dude, we leave the door unlatched during the day. You can just walk through it backwards like you do from the living room."

"Wait—really?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

He gave her a skeptical look; but when he glanced through the door's window, he could see himself standing out on the porch just a few seconds in the future. All right, he wasn't complaining. "Then I'll see you later." He sauntered over and backed through the doorway.

It worked. He was outside. He stepped off the porch and spread his arms, soaking in the sunlight. Look at that—escape was really that easy the whole time. He could have just backed through a couple of doorways. A little frustrating that he was learning this after he'd found a complicated workaround that required climbing on the roof, but this would make his life easier in the future. He walked back into the doorway again.

It didn't budge. He kept trying to walk for a couple of seconds before his brain forced him to accept that there was, in fact, a door there, and it wasn't getting out of his way. Did the doorway trick only work in one direction?! How did that make sense! The doorway to the living room handled two-way traffic just fine!

"Hey!" He spun around and gave Wendy a death glare. She laughed silently. He knocked furiously. "Hey, I'll get you for this, see if I don't!" When Bill had his power back, maybe he'd make her into a gargoyle on the outside of the Fearamid while the rest of the town was nice and cozy in his throne. See how she liked being locked outside. Pyramids didn't even need gargoyles.

She just waved at him, oblivious to the danger she was courting.

He muttered, "Oh, Icy, if you weren't Raina's kid..." She was Raina's kid, though.

All right, fine, no big deal. He wasn't letting anyone think this bothered him. Eventually a tourist would come along and let him in. If the Pines caught him and got mad, he could tell them that Wendy had tricked him into getting stuck outside, and it wouldn't even be a lie. (Would they believe him, though? Mabel would. Ford definitely wouldn't. Bill thought he at least ought to earn points for nicely sitting on the porch like the obedient dog they wished he was...)

A dented beige car rolled into the parking lot; Bill perked up as three out-of-place-looking men in black suits stepped out. Well, look who was back. "Hey, nice car! Much subtler than the fedmobile you were driving yesterday."

Agent Powers almost stumbled mid-step when he noticed Bill. "Er—yes. I appreciate the recommendation."

Bill got to his feet and leaned with one hand on a post. "I see you at the beach, I see you at this tourist trap... I'm starting to think you're on vacation, agents!"

Solemnly, Powers said, "I can assure you we're not."

"Definitely not," Agent Trigger agreed.

Bill glanced past them. Agent Dale was grinning broadly and snapping photos of the Mystery Shack with a camera hanging around his neck. "Wow, this place is so much fun." He tilted his head back to get a picture of the totem pole.

Bill raised his brows.

Trigger said, "Those are investigation photos."

"Sure," Bill said.

"We're looking for the owner of the Mystery Shack," Powers said. "I don't suppose you've seen him, ma'am?"

"Not yet. I think 'Mr. Mystery' is giving a tour right now."

"I see. Thank you for your help, ma'am." He almost moved to head inside, then hesitated.

He'd been doing that a lot around Bill the last couple of days. "Something else I can help you with, agent?"

"Uh—" Powers cleared his throat and flushed faintly red high on his cheeks. "I—feel that I ought to inform you that you're... looking even more exquisite today." Trigger stared at Powers.

Bill—slouched; sunburned; barefoot; fingernails and toenails painted in four different sloppy styles; and wearing a child's bedsheet with cartoon ponies on it, a purple puma t-shirt so large the neck hole slipped down his shoulder, an eyepatch with hot pink "RAD DUDE" sunglasses on top (and faint tan lines showing where he'd been wearing his eyepatch on the other side yesterday), and bumblebee deely boppers—said, "Tell me something I don't already know!" He laughed. "Kidding—that's impossible."

Powers nodded sharply and turned away, wearing an odd look somewhere between disappointed and relieved. "Dale, you stay out here and take some readings."

Dale flashed Powers a thumbs-up and pulled out a tablet.

Powers opened the door; Bill quickly pushed off the post. "Hey! Aren't you gonna hold the door for me?" He had something that looked like a skirt on, he could exploit that social norm today.

"Er—" Powers stopped in his tracks. "Yes, of course, ma'am."

"Aren't you a gentleman!" Bill swept back inside.

Wendy laughed at his grand reentrance—but petered out as she noticed the overdressed new visitors. Bill split off from the agents to circle the shop and try to look like a normal tourist, but he mouthed toward Wendy, "Feds." Her eyes widened.

"Excuse me, miss," Powers said to Wendy. "We're looking for the proprietor. Do you know when he'll be available?"

"Uhh..." All knowledge she previously had of the shack's tour schedule fled her mind in the face of a legit government agent. She circled around the counter. "I'll... tell Soos you're here."

Powers frowned. "'Soos'?"

"Yeah, um—Jesús Ramirez? The owner?"

Trigger muttered to Powers, "I think that's the handyman."

Wendy said, "He took over the business last year."

"Apparently our intel is out of date," Powers said. "Very well. We'll wait here."

Wendy veered toward Bill on her way to the museum and hissed, "Take the register—"

"Hell no," Bill hissed back. He wasn't letting the government know he worked here if the shack was under investigation. "Where's Melody?"

"Out. She slept bad."

Hmm. Strange. "I'll distract the suits." He wanted to snoop, anyway. "Go."

Wendy gave him an exasperated look, but ducked into the museum.

Bill sidled up to the agents, who were inspecting the display of alien-in-a-tube keychains. Trigger picked one up and murmured, "Are they suspended in jello?"

"That has to be a health hazard."

"Good likeness of the real thing, though."

Bill stopped in his tracks. There weren't a lot of places in the US where a government agent could have a personal meet-and-greet with an alien corpse in a glass tank. They must have been assigned to one or two investigations in Hangar 618. Strange; he would have thought there was more than enough going on in Gravity Falls to keep their schedules filled.

He shook off his misgivings, leaned on a display cabinet near the agents, and said loudly, "So!" He tried not to grin too widely when both agents jumped. "Looks like it's just us until the next tour."

Powers' cheeks turned pink again. "It looks like it." He cleared his throat and tried to surreptitiously adjust his tie. "I... suppose I'm overdue to ask you your name?"

"Call me Goldie!" Before Powers had an opportunity to dig deeper into Bill's identity, he asked, "So what brings you by the shack, agents? I don't think you ever explained what you're investigating!"

"Yes, that would be because it's classified. That information is shared strictly on a need-to-know basis," Powers said. "But we're here to check on last week's gravitational anomalies and an odd power surge that was witnessed over the weekend." (Bill loved this chatterbox, funniest secret agent ever.)

"Oh wow. Sounds exciting," Bill said, voice just a little too flat to sound convincing but a little too forceful to sound like he didn't mean it. (Always keep 'em guessing.) "Any leads?" He doubted it.

"Not yet," Powers admitted. "We've tracked similar power surges in Gravity Falls for decades, and last year several occurred concurrently with other gravitational anomalies; but our investigation last year..." Powers exchanged a glance with Trigger. Trigger just grimaced in irritation. Powers finished, "didn't find anything conclusive. So." His voice took on an edge of frustration. "Here we are. Looking around town."

"Again," Trigger grumbled.

Bill was surprised they could even remember last summer's gravitational anomalies. He'd expected Ford had completely erased their memories of the case; but he hadn't seen exactly what term Ford had plugged into the memory gun. "D'ya expect to find anything conclusive this time? Or is this just a routine follow-up on an old case."

"More of a routine follow-up," Powers said.

"Standard procedure," Trigger added.

"Except," Powers said, "that two days ago, we also received an anonymous tip that a dangerous individual may be hiding in this very building—and that they pose an immense risk to national security."

Trigger said, "Possibly global security."

Bill learned what it felt like for a human's blood to run cold. "Huh," he said. "Interesting."

"Witnesses claim the power surge appeared to originate in this part of the woods. We think this individual might have been involved," Powers said. "But it's probably nothing you need to worry about, ma'am." (Bill must have looked more alarmed than he'd meant to.) "We receive tips like this all the time. I doubt we'll find anything interesting here. All the same—"

The gift shop door popped open and Agent Dale poked his head in. "Sirs!" He held up a beeping tablet. "I'm picking up a signal from one of our flash drives."

Powers and Trigger turned their full attention to Dale. "Which one?" Trigger asked.

"The one we lost last summer."

The agents exchanged a look.

Soos hurried through the curtain to the museum, Wendy following close behind. "Hey, dudes! Welcome to the Mystery Shack! What can I get for you, a tour? Souvenirs? Um, bribes...?"

Bill grimaced. As Wendy passed, he muttered to her, "He does not have the grace at this Stanley does."

Powers's eyes darted between Dale and Soos; and then settled on Soos. "Mr. Ramirez. I'd like to have a word with you about your business. Privately."

"O-of course! I hope you don't think we're up to anything or anything." Soos pulled aside the museum's curtain. "Just step this way. Through my magic portal to a world of wonder and whimsy!"

"If I have to," Powers said tiredly. "Trigger, Dale—you two follow that signal. I want that flash drive back."

"Yessir." They hurried out of the gift shop.

Before Powers followed Soos into the museum, he turned to Bill. "My apologies for disrupting your trip, ma'am, but I'm afraid the next tour may be... delayed." A look of panic flashed across Soos's face.

"I can come back tomorrow!" Bill waved off the apology. "Watching a small-town business owner get investigated by the feds is way more exciting! You oughta check his financial records, I bet there's all kinds of tax evasion going on here!" Soos's panic escalated to sheer terror.

To Bill's surprise, something akin to fear flashed across Powers's face as well. "You think we're—? That is—we're not that sort of federal..." He cleared his throat loudly, mumbled, "Very kind of you," and hastily retreated after Soos, cheeks red.

What the hell was that? Powers had been paying way too much attention to Bill the last couple of days. Was it possible he was playing dumb? Did he already know that Bill was the "dangerous individual" in the Mystery Shack? Was he just trying to figure out the best way to bring Bill down and drag him in���

"Man." Wendy laughed, keeping her voice low. "You really distracted him. What'd you do to the poor guy?"

Bill leaned on the counter by the cash register. "What?"

"He's head over heels for you." At Bill's blank look, Wendy said, "Wait, did you not notice?"

Bill opened his mouth. Nothing came out while he tried to reconcile Wendy's claim with the idea of his body ending up suspended in a glass tube in a secret military base. "What?"

"Did you see him?" Wendy asked. "He can't stop staring at you, every time you glance at him he gets redder, you said one nice thing to him and he completely fell apart..."

Bill mentally ran through the last two days. Ohhh. In retrospect, that did explain why Powers had offered to rub sunscreen on him. "I barely even noticed! I'm used to everyone treating me like that! At least four people fall in love with me daily," Bill said. "I turn heads and drop jaws everywhere I go. I've got a whole collection of lower jaws preserved in formaldehyde." Admittedly, not all of them had dropped naturally. A few had been coaxed.

"Most people just steal their partners' shirts, but alright. I can respect a good murder trophy collection."

"There's a fine line between a lady-killer and a serial killer," Bill said cheerfully, "and I'd know! But enough about my love life!" As much of a relief as it was to realize Powers wasn't plotting Bill's arrest, that didn't mean it couldn't change. "What did you guys do with the flash drive with the agents' secret mission?"

Wendy shrugged. "Dunno, I wasn't here."

And Bill hadn't been either. While the Stan twins had been recounting their tragic life history, Bill had been fully occupied at the Quadrangle of Qonfusion, repairing the damage Ford had done before the portal opened and trying to get his Henchmaniacs to chill out about those guys who'd died. (Seriously, none of the dead guys had even been among the Henchmaniacs' A-listers, who cared?) By the time he'd realized something interesting was happening, the agents' memories were already erased and they were heading out of town.

"Okay. Great." He backed into the living room. "If you see 'em again, slow them down."

####

Bill pounded on the guest room door and waited.

"Just a second!" Ford answered the door, his freshly laundered coat in one hand and a Bigfoot fur-covered lint roller in the other. "What is—? Bill." His expression immediately closed off. His gaze flicked up to Bill's bumblebee deely-boppers. "What are you wearing."

"High fashion, not important. What did you humans do with the flash drive you got from the eagles?"

"The what from the what?"

"Last year. Right after you got home. Government agents. Little black plastic stick full of knowledge."

"Oh, that. Fed it to the goat," Ford said. "Why."

"Because the agents put a tracking device in it, and they're tracking it right now."

Ford's brows shot up. He hurried to the guest room window; Bill peeked around him.

Agent Trigger and Agent Dale were wandering around outside, Trigger in the lead while Dale trailed behind him looking at a tablet screen and saying, "Warmer... warmer... colder... okay, now warmer again..."

"Damn." Ford rushed to the back door.

Bill grabbed him by the sweater before he could get outside. "Whoa there, cowboy. If they see you, do you have a story prepared for why the 'superior officer' who sent them packing last year is still here?"

Ford raised a finger. "I... do not." He rushed to the stairs. "Kids!"

"Grunkle Ford!" Dipper stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, sweating and breathing heavily. "Hey—" Mabel ran into him from behind, nearly knocking them both down. They grabbed the banister for support as they panted. Dipper tried again, "Hey... did you know... the number of steps on the stairs..."

"Yes yes, the half of the staircase hidden by the turn in the landing changes when you can't see it," Ford said. "Dipper, Mabel, we have an emergency. I need you to catch the goat! Now!"

####

Gompers gnawed placidly on a paper towel hanging out of the trash can. He detected the subtle bouquet of rotting bell peppers. And was that spilled orange juice? Truly delectable. He took another bite.

The back door burst open. Gompers turned to stare as Dipper and Mabel charged outside.

He bleated indignantly as they scooped him up between them. Dipper hissed, "Go, go, go!"

They hauled him inside and slammed the door.

Trigger and Dale circled around the corner of the shack. Dale said, "It should be right... huh. That's weird."

"What is it?"

"The signal from the flash drive just moved."

"Moved? Where?"

Dale walked in a small circle, trying to get the tablet to re-triangulate the flash drive's location. "Inside the shack."

Trigger frowned at the door.

####

"C'mon, Gompers," Mabel hissed, trying to drag him down the hallway with Dipper. "We've gotta get you somewhere the government guys can't see you through the window!"

Gompers bleated again. Dipper smacked a hand over his mouth.

All three froze as someone knocked on the door. Voice low, Dipper said, "We're not home. Nobody's home right now." Mabel nodded.

####

Bill lurked next to the living room door, listening to the conversation in the gift shop as Powers said, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Ramirez. Oh, and by the way—you wouldn't happen to have seen any top secret government flash drives around the place, would you?"

There was a long pause. "Why, no," Soos said carefully. "I have not."

"Then do you have an explanation for why my agents detected one in this vicinity... and it's moving?"

There was an even longer pause. "Perhaps it was... eaten. Without our knowledge," Soos said. "Mayhaps by some variety of creature."

"Hmm," Powers said. "Perhaps. Would you mind if we look around for it."

"Uhh... yes. I would mind," Soos said. "Please don't."

Powers sighed deeply. "Fine. We'll be back." The floorboards creaked as he walked toward the exit. "Trigger, Dale—let's move out."

The household didn't heave a collective sigh of relief until the gift shop door had shut.

####

(A lot of y'all have been waiting for the Bill Seduce A Government Agent plot for like a year and a half. We're finally here! Yay!

Back in April when I was starting to write this plot in earnest, I was trying to figure out a reason why the agents would turn their attention on the shack (and the Pines family) again that was more threatening than just "yeah there are more gravity anomalies, again. whatever." And @quartz-the-moth-cat solved it with one word: "Gompers." Genuinely that one suggestion pulled the whole plot together. So thank you again for that.

In the months since TBOB came out, a lotta folks have incorrectly assumed I've made changes to my plot due to TBOB or that eerily TBOB-compliant things I wrote before the book were actually written after. So I think I'm gonna start documenting what I'd already planned/written, because I'm petty and I don't want TBOB to get credit for my own ideas:

The entire Agent Powers plot arc was written before TBOB came out. Adding fish brains to J4 was a post-TBOB addition (since we now know that's how he controls books), as was the bit with the agents discussing aliens and the aside about Hanger 618. And the chatter about stealing people's lower jaws, because in the wake of TBOB I think I need Bill to crack more jokes about gore & body horror. Nothing else in this chapter was changed due to TBOB.

I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's comments!!)

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

beige flags of seventeen 🏳️🏳️🏳️ :

Scoups: asks you to private your insta acc

Jeonghan: will finish the last carton of juice/milk and put it back empty in the fridge

Joshua: spends all the hot water when showering

Jun: never admits that he is sick and then coughs in your food

Hoshi: will say "you order" when you ask him what he wants to eat but then never likes anything you choose

Wonwoo: never remembers to bring in the trash

Woozi: keeps on accidentally wiping his hands on your face towel

Dokyeom: stares at your food if he is on a diet

Mingyu: will keep on poking at a topic even when you said you don't want to talk about it

Minghao: flashes the delivery guys all the time because he doesn't remember to tie on his robes

Seungkwan: keeps on giving 'helpful suggestions' when you cook even though he himself doesn't know how to

Vernon: hogs the washroom all the time only for you to find out that he is just scrolling on his phone

Chan: plays loud music super early in the morning

[ca1derus]

yearning for tan patti what’s new

[softsnzstuff]

Bob is such babygirl… would love to see a fic with him

I’m legit in love with Bob - and so with that, here is a fic about the first time Bob gets sick after being with the New Avengers

I’m headcanoning that when he feels worse, the void starts making appearances

Also pls note I obviously ~do not know where they live so~ let’s just assume they live together somewhere lmfao

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Cu- cucumb- hi’TSCHew! Hhh eh’SSHoo!”

Bob sniffled helplessly into the sleeve of his shirt. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“What’s wrong with Bobby?” Walker asked, motioning to the younger man with his head.

Bob looked up sheepishly, “Me? I’m fine.” he offered a smile before his face scrunched up.

“Cucumber! Heh’ishiew!! SNF”

Bucky stood up from where he was working on repairing his arm. “Feeling alright, kid?”

The brunette rubbed at his arm awkwardly, “yeah I’m. I mean I don’t feel great, but I’m… good.”

He nodded once more for good measure.

The older man shot Yelena a glance. Being the one Bob seemed most comfortable with, she approached.

The assassin looked him up and down. Bob generally resembled a lost baby duck, but he looked especially innocent today. His shirt looked a little baggy on him, his nose was tinged pink, and he had a slight flush across his cheeks.

“Bob?”

“I… think I’m getting sick but it’s probably just a cold.” He shrugged.

The blonde eyed him up hesitantly. “Why don’t you go lie down? We don’t have anything going on right now anyways.”

“Well if you’re sure you don’t need me…” he shuffled off to his bedroom.

Once he was out of earshot, John said, “do we uh.. know how that’s gonna affect the other guy?”

“Nope!” Bucky smiled somewhat sarcastically, “but I’m sure we’ll find out soon.”

***

“Hey guys.” It was dinner when Ava came back. “Where’s Bob?”

“He’s resting. Not feeling so hot.” Bucky called over his shoulder from the stove.

“Still? It’s been hours.” Concern dripped from Yelena’s voice.

As if on cue, some soft coughs rang out from Bobs room … followed shortly by some harsher ones.

“Bob?!”

Yelena pushed open his door gently. Bob was propped up against two pillows, coughing into his cupped hands. He looked much worse - sweat ringing the collar of his shirt and hair sticking to his forehead.

The poor guy had a box of tissues next to him and a few used ones scattered the bed and floor. Most concerning, however, was the pitch black darkness spreading on the sheets under him like watercolor on paper.

She rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, feeling his forehead with the other.

“It’s okay, Bob. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” She turned over her shoulder, “GET IN HERE!”

As the others arrived quickly at the doorway, Bob’s eyes fluttered open.

“Y’lena? Everything feels bad. The void.. I.. I can’t stop it. H’ktCHiew! Eh’sSH!”

“It’s not the void Bob, you’re just really sick.”

Bucky walked over to Bob with the same purpose he did back in the 40’s. He placed a damp towel over Bob’s forehead the same way he used to do for Steve when he’d get sick.

“This’ll make you feel better. We’re here Bob.”

John, Alexei and Ava watched intensely for a minute while Bucky held the compress and Yelena whispered to Bob. Slowly the darkness started to ‘reabsorb’ into him.

“Is he okay?” Ava asked.

“Yeah, is this going to happen every time he gets sick?”

Ava elbowed Walker in the ribs.

“I’m okay,” Bob sat up a little. “What’s going on?”

The gang was still getting used to Bob’s memory loss that followed these episodes with the Void. They were never sure how much or how little they should tell him.

The man in question looked at all of his friends exchanging silent glances before speaking up shyly. “Can I have…some juice? I think I’m sick.”

Yelena sighed quietly and smiled, turning towards him, “Sure Bob. Just lie down okay?”

She patted his thigh and stood up, Bucky doing the same as they exited the room.

“I think it’s only if he has a fever,” Bucky muttered to John on his way out, “he seems to go to a dark place when he’s not feeling well. Happens to me sometimes but without the… consequences.”

The rest of the New Avengers gathered in the other room for dinner. The young Russian however, stayed back, sitting in the bed next to Bob while he sipped his juice.

He couldn’t deny that he felt soothed in her presence. When he finished his juice, he set the glass on the bedside table and sunk a little deeper under the covers, wrapping Yelena’s waist in a hug and resting his head on her stomach.

She smiled gently and ran her fingers through his hair.

“You can rest now, Bob. We’ve got you.”

[vuiltone]

it's june my dudes

[cable-salamdr]

Haha jk the gays are alive and well here’s some more Bumblebee propaganda + a vague reference for older Percy

[candlelightkiss]

a katie gardner character study: aka my perception and interpretation of her based on her 5 lines.

"may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you."

daughter of demeter, infj, taurus ✧˖°

katie had always thought of herself as ordinary. nothing less, nothing more. if you were to ask her what she's confident in, she wouldn't be able to tell you off the top of her head. maybe her possession of a green thumb, but that's intuitive for a child of demeter. they weren't meant to be warriors and she had drilled that idea into her head and for the longest time believed her fatal flaw was cowardice. it was actually her self-doubt. lack of self-confidence. not quite inferiority, because she saw herself as capable enough, just nothing special.

for what she believed she did not have, she made up for it through her leadership. she was a natural, and her siblings adored her as their head counselor, but to her, kindness was the bare minimum. you weren't able to live a fulfilling life without a kind heart, first and foremost. so she was always willing to step into everyone's shoes, execute tasks here and there to keep things in order. she has a familial presence and takes on an reliable older sister role to many younger campers. all the while she'd never recognize the discipline and consideration that she always held, tenderness was just second nature to her. (more details under the cut)

a crucial part of her journey is finding her own courage and to not only be a leader to others but yourself, one that tends to your heart. a discovery of what it truly means to be brave, and how the word does not hold the weight of an end-all-be-all definition. moreover, she grows to feel strongly about breaking the stereotype that demeter kids are meant to be weak.

because of her ability to understand and read people well, many younger campers outside her cabin come to her for guidance.

in general, she's a very intuitive person.

despite the confidence she tries to uphold at camp due to being a counselor, she had always been very shy throughout her school years. she chose to become a year-round camper when she was 14.

she tried to keep in touch and stay close with her mortal family, but they don't return the effort. for a large portion of her life, she had believed that it was her destiny to be alone.

her displays of affection are through acts of service and gift giving, particularly handcrafted gifts or homemade treats, but her personal love languages are quality time and words of affirmation.

she's a creative person with many creative outlets that she incorporates into her day to day life; such as doing her hair and decorating her room.

she enjoys the arts; particularly, painting and crafting. there aren't any rules, and she views them as a way for one to keep themself grounded.

the way she dresses herself is largely influenced by bohemian fashion and she prefers to thrift vintage pieces. she also likes to collect jewelry.

in combat, she's most confident with knives. she likes that the target can be kept in close proximity with her.

her favorite bands are fleetwood mac, the corrs, and abba!

she chose to major in zoology due to her love for animals.

--

if you've made it this far, thank you for reading my ramblings about my comfort character and my favorite girl <3 will definitely make more posts like this about her in the future!

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Hondo chuckled a little.

“Oh you know just some facts.” You shrugged.

You were standing in the middle of the hallway just spacing out when Hondo approached you.

“Well come on lay it on me I wanna hear it” he told you smiling.

You two started walking together when you started.

“Did you know that alligators don’t age biologically? They don’t die from old age, they die from starvation or a disease” you informed him.

He stopped walking and thought about it for a minute “I didn’t know that”

You turned to look at him “Yeah I know and now you do” You smiled and kept walking.

___________________________________________________________

“Hey Y/n”

Tan walked in and looked at the screen looking for new info’s about the case they’re working on.

“Oh hey Tan”

You looked up from the iPad in your hands to glance at him then back to the screen.

“Got anything new?”

“Oh yeah did you know that Koalas spend 99% of their life eating and sleeping and the other 1 % they spend searching for a mate, where they wander around aimlessly until they find one. If they don’t find one, eventually they just give up and go back to sleep.”

Tan looked at you blinking with a confused expression on his face, he pointed at the screen.

“I meant about the case”

“Oh that, yeah check this out.”

___________________________________________________________

“I read something interesting lately.” Deacon started.

You were making a sandwich in the kitchen when he walked in and starting have a conversation with you, nothing out of the ordinary just normal break time.

“Me too” you were getting the ingredients ready for your sandwich.

“You tell me first” he gave you a soft smile.

“Okay so listen to this did you know that the smell of gasoline can irritate bees? And it may excite them to sting so imagine what would happen if you put a tube with bees to someone’s open mouth and a little smell of gasoline” you looked at him with evil smirk on your face.

“You truly scare me sometimes you know that?” That’s all he said to you before walking out of there.

*gif not mine*

A/n: I love writing for SWAT so much and I enjoyed this one 😂 as you can tell. I always tell my friends the most terrifying random-ass facts so I thought this would be fun.

[vampirestimmy]

🔎 Detective Gumshoe from ace attorney stimboard stimboard requests are open 🔎

| 🔎 🐕 🔎 | 🐕 x 🐕 | 🔎 🐕 🔎 |

[l3m0nflavoredg1fs]

Hieroglyphics / Layout Image

[joyfulxgod]

~~~.~📜~.~~~ || Cornifer - Hollow Knight || self request ::)

I actually played Hollow Knight again for this one!! Well, not really played, but I opened to game to record Cornifer ::) It made me really happy to play it again!! Hollow Knight means a lot to me, it's my favourite game ever, and other than my first ever playthrough I've actually never reopened the game haha cause it just felt so special that I couldn't find the right time to replay it. But it was really nice to experience the beginning moments again <3 almost made me cry haha

[heretherebedork]

Almost a week and Fang's quiet 'I miss you' to Tan while he pushes Phum and Peem to meet their parents, the quiet way he stays by himself in the family meeting and smiles at the peaceful moments but never brings his boyfriend there, never introduces Tan, just goes home to him instead... it's so sweet. It's everything to me. Fang has his safe space. Fang has a home that lets him be himself. There's pain to see him there alone when he's been dating Tan longer than Phum has been dating Peem but there's also a joy in the comfort he gets from loving Tan, from knowing that he goes home to Tan, to choosing not to bring Tan when he has to wear a mask because Tan is where he goes to take that mask off.

[blackkatmagic]

for the game! Identity Porn and agen kolar :)

happy new year to you and yours, hope 2025 is kind to you!

This is a targeted attack against me personally, how dare.

heaven-hued