#that'll probably be enough for me lol

[a-space-for-mimi]

Wow... I haven't been writing at all. I haven't even replied to comments on my fics yet. 🙈

[skrunksthatwunk]

yusuke's big ol doe eyes

bonus (SICKENING!!!!!):

[fennthetalkingdog]

Heyo, so um... I wrote a really long thing. But because homophobia and transphobia is mentioned (not endorsed or condoned, but I used a couple of quotes so I don't know if that counts as being explicit about it?), here's your warning now!

You know, one of the biggest challenges of being trans, for me, is realizing that not everyone's out to get me. Granted, I was set up for failure from the beginning; both of my parents were (and still are) homophobic and transphobic, and though they wouldn't throw me out of the house or disown me for it, they heavily disapprove of it in general. And that was a traumatizing experience for me, as a kid that has such a close relationship with them that I tell them everything even now. To open up to the people I love the most and be told, "No you can't be trans," or to admit to both them and myself about a crush and be told, "But that's ungodly." And besides my brief experience with the general queer community, barely enough to realize that being queer and trans was a thing that you could be, that was my first main experience with being queer, and it set the tone for almost every other interaction between me and queerness for years. Every time it came up, I stiffened, preparing myself for someone to argue it didn't exist or that queer people were just maliciously tricking others for some reason or another, and even when my school friends and teachers accepted me immediately, I couldn't relax and was stuck thinking, "But when will everything go wrong??"

Cut to a few years after and you have me, in college, going by my chosen name on literally everything that's not legal and (a lot of times) openly telling folks my pronouns. But it's taken a lot of character development to even get here. It took me a month going to early college and being completely away from my parents to realize that people actually won't care too much and will just use your chosen name and whatever pronouns you ask for (even neopronouns, to some extent; though there will be a lot of stumbling and questions involved, people close to you will be willing to go through that even just for your comfort). It took me until literally a few months ago to fully come to terms with the fact that people automatically (and accidentally) misgendering you isn't malicious at all, and in fact they'll often feel kinda upset if you don't correct them. And also, you don't need to tell everyone your pronouns. (I've taken to not correcting people who I'm not especially close to, especially because even though I am a boy, none of my body is changed and I can't blame others for assuming. Plus some people find connection in a shared identity [like being the only two girls in a group], and I don't have to feel pressured to correct them and break [or at least somewhat fray] that. But other people have different boundaries and comfort levels.) It didn't take me long to get comfortable with being feminine once I realized I was trans, but it took me so much longer to realize that if you tell the people around you that you're a boy, they won't see you as a girl just because you dress or act more feminine one day versus another.

But for all this to happen, you need to tell people about your identity; be comfortable with answering questions about (almost) anything and everything, because people might be confused and it's best to approach that with an open mind rather than a closed and boobytrapped one. My wonderful college friends are a great example of that—they consistently call me a boy and make man jokes and call my hawaiian shirts dad shirts and call me a femboy on my feminine days. But months before now, I had to have a bunch of conversations with one about how I saw myself, my relationship with gender and sex, what body modifications were involved in my view of myself, and more. (Some of these conversations are more than you'd just give a plain friend, but I didn't mind getting a little personal so that was my boundary. Also there were many days when I felt myself getting reflexively defensive and I had to leave, think about the topic for a week or so, and come back with a calmer mind.) And even now I still give my friends feedback on what pronouns feel good, if how and when they use them feels nice (since I like having my pronouns mixed), etc. because I've had to teach myself that showing that I like something won't get me scorned or ridiculed. It's a very, very slow process and it involves learning just as much about yourself as it does telling that to other people, but let me tell you it's so rewarding.

Now, there are still times when people are legitimately homophobic/transphobic to me. Like, I haven't even come out to my parents yet, despite literally telling one of their sisters that I'm nonbinary, because I know that I likely will never be able to change their views and I don't want to put myself through that pain again. So when I hear them talk about queerness (which doesn't happen often, thank goodness, but still occasionally does), I still prepare myself for the worst. But part of my healing was restricting that response to just them and people who have already proven themselves to be queerphobic. I don't want to be a person that gives someone a bad experience with the queer community just because I'm defensive thanks to my own experiences, because though I can't control them, I would never want to be someone that, even unknowingly, causes someone else pain.

(And yes, a major factor in my ability to even come to this conclusion is the fact that I'm no longer constantly living with my parents. I waited 2 and a half years to finally not be under their roof, and during that time that was all I was doing: waiting. It's only been since I could leave that I could truly process everything and try to form thoughts on the matter because I'm no longer just trying to survive. So I'm not talking mainly to those people who are still waiting, but still, if you're stuck having to wait, don't feel bad that you can't grow. Sometimes all you can do is wait, and in the end, that's just as important.)

So yeah, that's the mindset that I've been trying to build over the past year or so of finally being free to be myself. And I'm trying to carry it on to other parts of my life (the autism/ADHD, the nonhumanity, the blackness) just because it's a happier and more productive way to spend my life than constantly being on the lookout for bigots and avoiding people who could just be ignorant. Because I can't control them, but I can control me, and I don't want a bigot to decide how happy I live my life even after they're gone.

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

i am being so fucking autistic about a video game i've only played an hour and a half of and have absorbed like 99% of my information about through osmosis from my bestie(s. it's complicated) and fanfiction. catastrophic levels of autism. i can't stress this in words i don't think y'all understand. or care honestly sdflkjfdskdfsjsfdkj-

[daz4i]

love my social worker he's so sweet and i love my mentor/guide/one day i'll find a fitting english word for what her role is too. last time i met the former he said they talked abt the thing i'm starting this thursday and said "while it feels like these circumstances may be impossible for you, logically speaking you shouldn't succeed there, yet both of us are certain you will" which is very nice but also AAAAAAAAAAAAA

[theflyingfeeling]

aaaarrghghgh 😭

[solradguy]

Every time I see a Sol cosplayer mentally I'm like *pushes them out of the way* show me the sword please show me the Outrage Fire Junkyard Seal Dog II III I'm begging you

[boyapologist]

I feel the same way tbh 💀💀 ive literally never been more mad at her. Im constantly defending her but this is literally so embarrassing yikes

tbh I'm not even mad, I'm more like.... disappointed. if anything, I'm mad at myself for thinking I knew her personality well enough to think she wouldn't host a media shit show on purpose again (specially after everything she's been through)

idk man. I'm just not into the whole media circus. if I was into that kind of thing I would go watch the kardashians or something lmao

[orcelito]

Ok so upon consulting some friends it has become clear that I should try to get this video sent before 5 pm today. No sims for me until after it's done. I also need to clean, but I think I can finish all of the essential things in an hour's work or so. Won't be spotless, but so long as it's an acceptable amount of clutter, then it'll have to do.

And then I will start practicing. Scales should be easy enough. Just gotta warm up and all. The song is the tricky part, bc I have no idea what to do yet 😭 but I'm gonna look in my folders and if there's nothing that would work playing solo that would ALSO not be too hard to play after only a few hours of practicing, then I will look in my music books. There's Gotta be a relatively simple solo piece in there.

I may be wildly out of practice, but I WAS the 4th best violinist in my high school, once upon a time. My wrist may be stiff and my fingers unpracticed, but the muscle memory's gotta still be in there somewhere. Just gotta have faith in that.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[letorip]

can u give us a summary of kiss with a fist 4 without spoiling?

lol... here's a spoiler

kiss with a fist [iv]

"you smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: just as things begin to complicate even more between you and tara, her life becomes even more complicated

warnings: blood, angst, curse words, kissing, borderline sexual content

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i contemplated doing this in so many ways and i ended up thinking it was just funnier if i answered with the literal story. so... it was at least funny to me. it's shorter than normal, just because i didn't want to split up an action scene that'll take place next time, so expect a much longer part next time.

===+++===

===+++===

You didn’t like police stations very much, and you weren’t exactly doing a good job of keeping it hidden. Your knee bounced against the dusty linoleum in a quiet tapping noise, and although you yourself couldn’t hear it with the endless amount of phones ringing and shouting down the hall, Tara clearly could.

Her head rested on your shoulder, where you had slumped, and she placed a hand right upon your knee, stopping it from bouncing anymore. Her dark eyes looked up at you. “You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Sorry,” you rushed, quick to pull your knee away from her hand.

Tara frowned, looking back down to the tiling. “Of course this had to happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She shrugged, and you had to nudge her gently. “Tara?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. "Just Sam's license and her getting attacked at the bodega... I wasn't there, (Y/n)."

"You couldn't have known," you said, frowning at her. "Everyone thought all the 'Stab' shit was over."

"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "Mindy always says lightning doesn't strike twice, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really true."

"Or maybe it's just a crazed copycat. There's no way of knowing it's actually after you yet."

"That's not what Sam'll say." She had an uncharacteristic look of defeat in her eyes that you hadn't seen before. Tara was a spitfire, even to Sam. But she looked beside herself, wallowing against the soft fabric of your jumper. "Sam'll say that Ghostface is back. That we need to leave."

"Maybe she's right," you shrug.

"Maybe," Tara said. "But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. I want to live, but... if it's not him, I can't just keep living my life on the run from whoever's chasing me. That means Amber won."

"Amber?"

"Yeah... Amber. Amber Freeman. She was my, uh, girlfriend."

"Oh," you frown. Tara's dark eyes looked up at you, nervously watching your reaction.

"Yeah... and she was Ghostface."

"Oh," you repeated. Tara never spoke about her much, and neither had the rest of the core four, really. It had never really dawned on you to ask, just because it seemed important to Tara, and for the longest time, what was important to her wasn't important to you. "Are you still nursing that wound?" you asked.

She smiled, but it did not reach the corners of her eyes. "Sometimes. It feels weird since she almost killed me, but there are times I really miss her. Grief demands to be felt, and all."

"Even if it's a murderous psychopath?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah," she snorted, turning her head on your shoulder. "Even if it's a murderous psychopath." Then, she grew serious. "We should probably talk about last night, right?"

You froze, swallowing what felt like a lump in your throat. "Uh, now?"

"Well, it's just, I kind of felt something... I don't know. I know we said this was fake and all, and I don't know if you have your eye on anyone else right now," Tara began to ramble, "so if you do, don't feel pressured to agree to anything. I know I kind of made a messy situation out of this, and I don't even know where to go--"

But she was interrupted by the door down the hall opening. It was loud enough that your attention was pulled towards it, and through it came a woman with a stack of files in her arm. She smiled warmly at Tara, walking right over, and Tara seemed to recognise her, sitting up in her chair.

The warmth on your chest where her head had been was gone in an instant, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn't selfishly begun to miss it.

"Tara, right?" the woman asked with a smile, and Tara nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an underlying suspicion. But the woman just gave her a gentle smile.

"Kirby," she said, extending her arm out for a handshake. "Kirby Reed. I used to go to high school with Sam, and now I'm with the FBI."

Your eyes widened. If the FBI were now involved with the case, it was definitely not a good sign. You felt Tara's hand go to yours, squeezing it. If you were to ask her about it, she'd likely say it was to calm the nervousness you hadn't been able to hide on your face, but you knew that it was to steady herself, if anything.

"FBI?" Tara asked. "So it's really him?"

Kirby frowned. "I'm hoping it's some copycat, but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure. Is Sam still back there being questioned?"

Tara nodded, grimacing. "Apparently, both of us are people of interest. Our roommate's dad is on the case."

"Well," Kirby said, "I'll see if I can help him." She turned to you. "And who's this?" she asked.

"Uh--" you started, but Tara shook her head, interrupting.

"--(Y/n) isn't involved," she glared, defending you with a ferocity in her voice.

Kirby gave you a look over. "Are you sure? I don't mean to disrespect either of you, but are you sure you can trust them, Tara? It's never who you expect."

Tara nods. "I know they're not Ghostface. (Y/n) wouldn't lie."

(Y/n) wouldn't lie. The sentence made you sick to your stomach. You could see Calvin in your mind, laughing at how you got yourself into this situation. Alisha would've found it funny, too. You swallowed, standing up from the chair. You smiled weakly at Tara. "It's okay, Tar. I'll go home... just let me know if you need to leave... for the... uh, arrangement, or whatever."

She nodded, mouth drawn into a line. "Yeah... see you later... Duck," she said, trying equally as hard to smile. You turned around, walking out.

===+++===

You had pretty much collapsed into bed, the moment you got home. It had been an exhausting few hours, what with finishing your model and then rushing with Tara to the police station. Your final class of the semester was later in the day, so you would take any sort of sleep you could get.

And the sleep you took, waking up a few hours later with mussed-up hair and a final to get over and done with. You grabbed the model and your backpack, heading for the train station, and finally checking your phone for the first time in a little while.

Little Shit (do not pick up): mindy wants everyone at the park later, after your final

Little Shit (do not pick up): good luck with that, btw

Little Shit (do not pick up): also we should still probably talk about last night i didn't get to finish earlier

You gave a thumbs-up to the first message, and quickly typed back a thanks, before tucking it into your pocket. The critique was boring, but you couldn't help but feel yourself swell with pride when your professor complimented the small amount of green space you had put within the actual walls of the building. It had been Tara's idea, and you reminded yourself to thank her later. Now all you had to do was go to Mindy's weird meeting, and you could begin your break.

The group was sitting on a group of benches near the green, with Mindy hovering over them, her arms crossed. When she saw you coming, she raised her eyebrow at you in suspicion. You rolled your eyes, coming to sit down next to where Tara had saved you a seat.

She sent you a small smile when you did, weaving your fingers together. You knew that to the group she was just doing it because you and Tara were allegedly a couple, but just to you it felt like so much more than that.

And it made you feel a little bit sick, again.

"How'd your final go?" she asked, and it made your heart stop for a moment, the way her warm brown eyes looked in the soft sunlight. You shrugged, but could not stop the smile spreading itself on your face.

"The professor liked your idea."

"Really?!" she asked, sounding super excited, and you nodded. "Well now who's silly, for telling me it was a bad idea?"

"Well because it is a silly idea, genuinely who would think of that."

"I would. It isn't silly, it's cool."

"I'm afraid cool doesn't always work, Tara."

"It did this time," she said smugly, sticking her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing but not hating that she'd be gloating about it for weeks.

"Lovebirds, cut the chit-chat," Mindy shot, glaring in your direction, and Tara huffed in annoyance but begrudgingly turned towards her. "Now, as terrifying as it all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time."

"Mindy," Sam chided, arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, sorry," she said. "The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel to the requel."

"What’s a requel?" Anika asked, leaning forward as if trying to understand her girlfriend's antics. You didn't know either.

"You’re beautiful, sweetie, but let’s hold questions to the end," Mindy teased.

From next to you, Tara looked more worried. "Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro, but Stab 2 took place in college…"

Sam tensed. "So you think the killer’s copying the second movie?"

"Like a homage!" Chad suggested, looking proud of himself. The rest of the group shot him a look. "What? You all I know took French, it should not be a surprise that I know that word."

"Just a little bit," Tara teased. He sent her a small smile, one that you knew came from his massive crush on her. It only made you feel a bit worse about the both of you.

"That’s one possibility," Mindy said, nodding at the suggestion. "Heroes now in college? Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count?" she looked at you, Ethan, Quinn, and Anika. "Check, check, check, and check."

"I really don't like this," Ethan said.

"But it can’t only be about Stab 2," Mindy continued. Tara's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not?" she asked.

Mindy had a glint in her eye. "It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore."

"So what is it?" you asked, deciding to bite on her theory.

"We’re in a franchise. And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise," she replied.

Sam sighed. "I had a feeling."

But Mindy wasn't deterred. "Now, rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings- you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

"Beheadings?" Chad asked, taking notes.

Next to him, Ethan looked rather lost. Quinn and Anika looked just as confused. You were glad you weren't the only one lacking a real understanding of how the core four operated. They had earned a right to be a little nuts after surviving Woodsboro, that you knew. But the whole thing seemed a bit conspiratorial.

"Rule Two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here." It was hard to absorb these things laid out as facts, and you struggled to follow Mindy's train of thought, sending Anika a wary glance. She just shrugged.

Tara noticed your confusion, sending a small squeeze to your hand and mouthing the word 'later.' You nodded, turning your attention back to Mindy, attempting to do your best to listen.

"And Rule Three, no one is safe. Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point, usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. Sidney’s smart to sit this one out, but it’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. And that’s not even the worst part."

"There's a worst part?" You asked. Mindy nodded, smirking.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP, which means the main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You sent Tara a wary look at the suggestion, leaning harder against her. She tried to send you a small smile to comfort you, but it did little to stop the thought coming to your mind. You were cursed, that much was true from the sheer amount of grief that seemed to permeate around your family. It was a bad idea, to get so close to Tara, and that you knew. But it didn't stop the fact that you had a near electric desire to do so whenever she was nearby.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group?" Ethan asked, beginning to panic. "Am I one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Um," Mindy started, blinking. "Weird overshare, but at least that brings us to our current suspects." Her gaze steeled over.

"Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he’s so shy and dorky." Next to him, Chad shot him a more assessing glance.

"Why am I on the list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?!" Ethan asked, raising his voice.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shot back, crossing her arms in increased suspicion. She turned to Quinn. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

"Sex positive," Quinn corrected, "but thank you."

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I answered their ad online--" Quinn started, and Mindy scoffed, raising her hand up.

"Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough. 'Ad online,' good lord."

"Mindy, it was an anonymous ad, and you know we vetted her, plus her Dad’s a cop," Tara interjected.

"Tara, Tara, Tara," Mindy said, shaking her head. "Cop Dad? That's a great cover. Don't you get that's how these movies would work? Speaking of, while we're on Tara," she continued, turning to you.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi (Y/n)," she replied, smiling. It dropped to a frown. Tara's grip on your hand tightened. "(Y/n). The enemies-to-lovers, quippy 'annoyance' one of our main characters has incredible sexual tension with."

"Ew," Sam shuddered.

"Ew indeed," Mindy agreed. "Never trust the love interest." She looked over to Anika, who was smiling at her girlfriend. "Ever." Anika's face fell.

"Okay. So we’ve got our rules, and we’ve got our suspects," Sam huffed.

"Wait- what about the rest of you?" Ethan interrupted.

"I mean, I think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro," Mindy shrugged.

"Agreed," Chad nods.

"Um, not agreed. Maybe the trauma of what you went through caused one or more of you to snap," Quinn suggested, playing with the nail polish on her fingers.

"Or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more! Ethan jumped in again. "And, let’s be honest, some of those theories online about Sam are--"

Tara sends him a death glare. "Don'y you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"He’s right, though. Face facts. If we’re all suspects? You’re all suspects," Anika shrugs.

You sent a wary look around at everyone and then another look back down to Tara, wondering which one would hurt her, and just how you'd be able to stop it.

===+++===

That night was the first night in a while nothing was expected of you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to actually relax. Mindy's monologue about how royally bloody fucked everything was now that Ghostface was officially back had set you a bit on edge, and part of you couldn't help but blame yourself.

You had thought the curse would get left behind in Nebraska, when you left, but it seemed maybe you had taken it with you, packed with your belongings. Maybe it was now affecting the person you had wished to protect from any harm. It still felt miraculous, just how Tara had wormed her way from your shit list to deep within your heart. Maybe that was the curse. Someone who could make you so annoyed could also make you feel like your heart was skipping beats.

You coped with the extreme worrying through a cooked meal and TV binge, flopping down on the couch and turning your ringer on, in case you were needed. You knew that Sam and Tara were likely preparing for the worst, and you also knew that you had been included on the list of suspects.

Maybe none of them rightfully believed you had it in you, but you also knew that even being a possibility meant that the core four had to keep you at arm's length for a while.

Or, at least, that's what you figured they'd do.

Right as the episode you were watching began to roll credits, you heard a hard knock on the door, freezing. Mindy had said something in a text, telling you to be cautious of opening doors when no one was scheduled to come over. You shot a wary look to your magnetic strip of knives, hanging over the hotplate. If you were just fast enough, maybe you could grab a knife or two, if Ghostface busted the door in. There was usually a phone call, wasn't there? Then why--

"(Y/n)?" Tara called, giving a hard knock. You felt your cheeks flush. Oh. You dashed to the door, not wanting to leave her on the step for too long.

When you opened it, you could see that Tara's own cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Did you run here???" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"Uh...maybe," Tara said, suddenly finding the hallway outside of your flat much more interesting.

"I thought Sam would have you under lock and key," you teased.

"I snuck out..." Tara said, cheeks flushing again, but this time not from the run.

"Oh, so I'm harbouring a criminal?" you joked. Tara rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Can I just come in?"

"Do you trust me to do that?" you asked, curious. "I understand if you say no, believe me I get it. If I had been attacked or anything, especially by my girlfriend, I wouldn't trust anyone for a long time..."

Tara watched you ramble speak, eyes wide and dark and beautiful in the dim hall light. "I trust you... and I, uh, want some small amount of normalcy, like it was at the lab. Before everything got so weird, you know?"

You nodded, stepping aside for her to enter and then freezing. "Wait, Tara, what happened to your hand?"

You hadn't noticed until now, but her knuckles on the other hand had been bruising a dusty purple colour, still red at the edges. You let the door shut behind you, turning to her hand and holding it up in the lamplight of your hall. "What happened?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Tara's cheeks flushed again. "I punched a bitch," she said flatly. Your eyes widened even more, and Tara was quick to shake her head. "Just Gale Weathers. She wrote, uh, a whole book on Woodsboro. Called Sam a bunch of bad stuff. She actually was outside the station with the news and stuff when Sam was questioned earlier today... so I punched her."

You snorted. "Judging by your hand you definitely got her."

"Oh absolutely," Tara scoffed, as if she was offended by a possibility that she hadn't.

"You should probably ice it," you said with a wince, looking at the bruised skin. She scoffed again.

"What're you, a doctor?"

You shrugged, leading her into your kitchen. "I was going to be."

"Oh," Tara hummed.

"Yeah... took one introductory class and realised I hated it. It sucks too, because I gave my parents this whole speech about how I wanted to be a doctor because of our family, and I dropped the profession about a month or two later afterwards."

"Is that why you and your dad don't talk much?" she asked. "Is he a doctor?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. It was an amusing suggestion. "About as far as you could get from it, actually. But no, it isn't why we don't really talk." You didn't say any more on the subject, even though you could tell that Tara was curious. "We should really get you iced up, your hand is swollen, I can't believe you didn't show me this earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my parent again."

"I'm just worried about you, Tara," you said, shooting her a meaningful look. She was staring up at you with those damn eyes again like you held her heart in your hands. "I mean, come on, let's just put a bag of ice on it or something, or--"

But before you could finish what you were suggesting, Tara interrupted you, throwing her arms around your neck and standing up on her toes. "Is this okay?" she whispered, voice low. It flooded your ears and squeezed the air from your lungs, just how close her lips were from yours.

You can't help the small nod, or the way you're probably dumbly staring at her mouth right now, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and your hands find their way to her waist, palming at the exposed skin of her cropped shirt with your thumbs. "I've, uh, kind of wanted to do this for weeks," Tara admits with a small grin. The words spin around and around in your mind like you're on some carousel of thought.

If you could have formed words, you would have told her the truth: you had wanted to kiss her since she walked in the room and you saw her for the first time. But you can't. So instead, you crash your lips onto hers.

Tara doesn't hesitate even a little bit, wrapping her arms around your neck and falling off her toes as she kisses you back with fervour. You follow her down, working your lips against hers as her hands give up on your neck and instead move to spread themselves out on the warm apples of your cheeks.

You're taken over by some other, hungry entity entirely, and you lift Tara up onto the kitchen counter, into the exact same place she was sitting when she asked you for help with this stupid scheme. It doesn't matter now, you're too lost in her lips. You feel her tongue push past and into your mouth, and her hands travel up your back to spread out against the back of your shirt and pull you against her.

You can't help the groan that escapes your mouth, and you feel Tara's teasing smile against your lips as she breathes in your smell. Your hands are still on her waist, sliding up so that your thumbs gently brush against the bottom of her bra. She shudders at the sensation, opening her mouth wider, and you can taste the lingering cherry of her chapstick on her lips.

Neither of you is especially sure how long you stay there, but when you finally have to pull away, you're scrambling for air. You lazily let your forehead rest against hers, catching your breath and struggling to stay on your feet. Tara lets her hands wander from your back into your hair, exploring the planes of your body for the first time, and you can't stop the small comment that worms its way from your mouth after.

"Exploring the merchandise?" you ask with a teasing, breathless laugh. Tara shakes her head, finally opening her eyes and looking up at you with that same damn beautiful look.

"You should come stay with me and the others. It's safer that way," she says, becoming worried again. Her hands rest on your cheeks and she kisses you again, softer, but just as meaningful.

You painfully have to shake your head. "I can't, you know that."

"I won't be mad if you leave town," she says. "I won't hold it against you."

You smile. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere, Tara."

She nods, processing it, before crashing her lips back onto yours and tugging at the bottom of your shirt, but you catch her hands before she can tug it over your head. "No, Tara- Tara wait."

"I want you," she says.

"I know, but we should wait," you say, hands on the side of her thighs. "Wait until it's over. Right now, Ghostface is more important."

"He gets everything, (Y/n). I just want this. I want you. I know we did this whole thing about fake dating, and I know it wasn't real, but I realise that I want it to be. I just want you."

There's a burning in your stomach, burning for her, and you pull her in for another kiss. Only to be stopped by the sound of your door creaking open.

You freeze and so does Tara at the noise. "(Y/n)?" she asks, trembling. "Did you lock your front door?"

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN catch you all next time for a big ole action sequence and a whole bunch of drama

[ckret2]

Chapter 69 (lol) of human Bill Cipher being a prisoner with terrible fashion sense: beach episode!!! Well, lake episode. Close enough.

And a few other people come to town.

Just after dawn, a sleek, nondescript black government SUV, now dusty from a long drive, parked in front of the Gravity Falls Police Department. Three agents in sleek, nondescript black suits stepped out.

As they left the car, Blubs came out to meet them, Durland trailing behind him. "Agent Powers, Agent Trigger! Good to see you again." He shook Powers's hand, then glanced at the new agent. "And you are...?"

"Agent Dale!" The rookie shook Blubs's hand next, beaming. "Very pleased to meet you. I was just saying in the car—you have a beautiful town here, just beautiful."

"Wouldn't stop talking about it," Trigger muttered.

Blubs chuckled. "Why, thank you. We're quite proud of it ourselves."

Durland said, "Say, Agent Dale—don't you agents usually have tougher-sounding codenames?"

"Agent Clyde S. Dale. Like the horse."

"Ohhh. Yup, that'll do it."

"Sheriff Blubs," Powers said. "I trust you have the requested materials?"

"Right inside," Blubs said. "We've got the readings on last week's gravity anomaly from McGucket's scanners, and reports on this weekend's power surge."

"No overlap between the incidents?"

"None anyone here detected."

"Hmm. Has anything else strange happened since we were last in town?"

Blubs hesitated. "Well—never mind all that." He quickly shifted topics, "Say, I like your 'honk if you want to be arrested' bumper sticker." ("Oh is that what it says?" Durland asked.)

Agent Powers said solemnly, "I can get you the contact information of the shop where I bought it. It's a very nice small business run by art students."

"Would you? That'd be delightful."

Powers paused before following the cops and his agents into the police department, glancing out at Gravity Falls' town square—the modest little main street shops, the town hall, the statue of the town founder, the distinctive water tower with the faded muffin graffiti, and the familiar mountains surrounding the little valley town.

And then he let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Fine," he muttered grumpily, glaring at the town as though it were an old rival as annoyed to see him as he was to see it. "Let's just get this over with."

He followed Blubs into the police department.

####

"Attention, everybody," Stan said, standing in the entryway with his fists on his hips, Soos beaming behind him. "I've got some great news!"

Abuelita and Bill glanced up from one of Abuelita's soap operas; Mabel and Dipper craned their necks to see Stan from where they were having dinner at the kitchen table.

Stan announced, "It's finally time!"

Dipper and Mabel blinked. Bill said, "Great. I'll get the ritual daggers, you can set up the blood red candles. Dolores?"

Abuelita said, "I will put out the good sacrifice altar." Bill laughed in delight.

"Yeah, yuck it up, you two," Stan said. "We're going fishing tomorrow! I've got the bait, I found everyone's rods, Soos and I patched up the old boat, I even—" He paused at the sound of the vending machine opening. "Hey! Ford!"

Ford ducked in from the gift shop. "What?" 

Stan chucked a hat at him. "I made you a fishing buddy hat! See, it's got your name! That's pretty good!"

"Oh." Ford inspected the letters haphazardly stitched onto the hat. "Why?"

"Fishing tomorrow! Half the summer's gone by, and we haven't gone fishing once! The guys from the lodge probably think I'm too ashamed to show my face. But it rained this weekend, the weather's just cleared up, now's the perfect time for fishing!"

"Oh," Ford said again, trying to drag his thoughts from magical tapes to fishing. "If you'd let me know earlier, I'd have built another fish-summoning beacon like the one on our boat." (Bill glanced curiously at Ford at the mention of an invention he didn't already know about; then stubbornly refused to be interested and dragged his gaze back to the TV.)

"No beacons! This isn't fishing for survival, this is about the sport! Asserting our manhood! Just the skill, strength, and patience of three men—and some women and children—against the lake!" (Soos beamed at being included amongst the men.)

Ford considered that. He didn't assert his manhood very often; usually he just sort of let his manhood hang around minding its own business, like an old cat that wants to be in the same room as you without socializing. It sounded like an intriguingly novel experience. "Okay, great. What time?"

"I want everyone on the road tomorrow morning! By six thirty at the latest."

The kids groaned.

"C'mon, dudes," Soos said encouragingly. "It'll be fun! After about three hours, once you're awake enough to think."

"No griping, we've gotta be there early to get a prime fishing spot," Stan said. "Tomorrow's a lodge fishing day. We're going home with a haul so big they'll be embarrassed they kicked me out!"

Dipper asked, "You mean the lodge for the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, right? Why'd they kick you out?"

Stan sighed, "Once the town found out about Ford, they realized I'd spent the last thirty years attending lodge meetings under his membership. Since I'd never undergone the—" He rolled his eyes and made finger quotes, "'sacred angler initiation rites,' they booted me. And they said I can't try to join again, just because of that one dumb little white lie! And my extensive criminal record."

Ford hurriedly crossed the living room to avoid blocking Abuelita's TV view. (Bill looked through him like he wasn't there.) "Stan got a lot more out of my membership than I did—once I'd finished my initiation I probably only ever attended three meetings. I tried to petition the Mackerels to let him rejoin."

"How'd they respond?" Mabel asked.

"They kicked me out too."

Bill scoffed. "Big deal! The Fishmasons and all their subordinate organizations are just a big boring social club that got you hotel discounts three hundred years ago. The mystique around them is more interesting than anything they actually do."

"Figuring that out is why I stopped attending after three meetings," Ford said. "I joined to learn about the dark secret underbelly of Western politics—not sit around eating charcuterie and fancy nuts while everyone talks about baseball and makes fun of me for not knowing what a fly ball is. It's a stupid term! Doesn't the ball always fly?"

"Really, they aren't even worth joining," said Bill Cipher, the only person to have ever been kicked out of seventeen separate Masonic lodges in seventeen separate bodies.

Reminded of the fancy nuts he was missing out on at this very second, Stan set his jaw in determination. "Yeah, well, they're a big boring social club that'll rue the day they kicked out Stan Pines! Out the door, six thirty, on the dot!"

"I don't have an alarm," Bill said. "Hey star girl, wake me at five."

Mabel shuddered at the thought of setting an alarm that early. "No way. You can borrow my radio."

"Hold on, I didn't say you're invited," Stan said. "We've already got a full boat! Me, my brother, the kids, and Soos and his girl. Nobody wants to sit on the lake with you for eight hours."

"I wanna sit on the lake with Bill!"

"Nobody but Mabel wants that."

"Relax! I don't want to sit on a boat with you underpainted clowns either," Bill said. "I just want to sit on the beach! I miss sunlight! Sunlight without being forced to hike through half the valley on no food or sleep."

(Ford decided that was his cue to make himself scarce. He scooted into the guest room.)

"Well," Stan said, "we're not staying thirty feet from the shore, we're not leaving anybody behind, and we don't trust you to stay put on the beach without your dumb magic bracelet—so how do you expect that to work."

"I'll just stay with Dolores."

Stan and Soos stared at Abuelita. Soos said, "Abuelita? Do you want to come?"

Abuelita considered it. "Sure. The weather is nice. I can catch up on my reading."

"Yes!" Bill hopped off the couch. "Then it's a plan!"

"Hey, hold on," Stan said as Bill breezed past him, "I didn't agree to—"

"Hey star girl!" Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Need your fashion services! I need a swimsuit before tomorrow."

Mabel gasped in delight. "What kind?"

"Whatever exposes the most skin without getting me arrested. I'm absorbing as much sunlight as possible."

"With sunscreen, right?" Soos said.

Bill turned and gave him a blank-faced stare.

Soos hopefully repeated, "With sunscreen?"

"Don't need it."

"You totally do, dude. Not many people talk about this? But having more melanin doesn't totally protect you from sun damage, it just slows it down," Soos said. "Trust me on this. When I was like eight, I went to this water park—

"Uh-huh, and three days later you were peeling off flakes of your own dead flesh," Bill said. "It's cute how you think you know more about humans from 23 years of passively being one than I do from 500,000 years of actively studying them."

"Oh."

"C'mon, star girl! No time to waste!" Bill grabbed Mabel's hand and tugged her off her chair.

"Wait, my sandwich—!" Mabel grabbed the rest of her dinner off her plate and shoved it in her mouth as Bill dragged her upstairs.

Abuelita shot him a dirty look as he passed, but turned back to her soap opera.

####

Just past five in the morning, Bill crept by the guest room door. He glanced through the wall as he passed; good, both of the Stans were in bed and sound asleep. Bill wouldn't have had a chance to get up to his mischief if Ford had decided to sleep downstairs.

He snuck behind the vending machine; paused to squint toward the future and confirm that when he looked at the stairs, he could only see himself using them anytime soon; then down to the elevator; and down, down to Ford's study.

Bill sighed in relief when the elevator slid open and he saw that Ford had left his study door ajar. He crept into the room, feet socked, hands gloved—Ford was the kind of paranoid to actually check for prints if he suspected anything, and Bill's triangular whorls were very distinctive—and looked through the objects piled on the shelves and furniture for any concealed sensors or cameras. The coast was clear.

He idly scanned the nearby shelves for any sign of his stolen time tape, didn't find it, but didn't expect to. That wasn't what he was here for.

He knelt in front of a half-disassembled filing cabinet, flipped through the files in the removed bottom drawer until he found several folders together about curses and hexes, and flipped through them until he found the one labeled "Curses & Hexes (w/ ingredients)". Good old Sixer, left everything exactly where Bill remembered it.

He rifled through the pages—"aha!"—until he found the paper he was looking for and pulled it out. Handwritten at the top of a ragged-edged piece of notebook paper were the words "Reverse Sunscreen". Bill read through the list of ingredients—"Oh, pepper juice, not pepper flakes, right."—then put the paper back.

He glanced back and forth between the past and present to ensure he put the files back exactly where he'd found them—again, considering Ford's paranoia, he might notice any difference.

And then he returned to the elevator and headed upstairs.

The whole time he was in the study, Bill didn't let himself glance at the back of the room where Ford's shrine to him used to be.

####

"Heya, pal," Bill said. "It's been a while! Where have you been hiding all summer?"

Gompers blinked up at Bill.

"I guess we both look different than we did the last time we met, huh? I think your makeover went better than mine, though! You didn't fall as far as I did." He didn't have as far to fall.

Gompers accepted the backhanded compliment with utter indifference.

"But hey, why talk about the past! Let's let bygones be bygones. Here." Bill knelt, pulled one of Ford's nutrition pills from the folds of his beach towel, and held it out. "A peace offering! A little snack for you."

Gompers eyed it warily.

"Come on, you've eaten worse things than this."

He delicately ate the pill out of Bill's hand.

"Thaaat's right. Tell me how you like that thing later."

Leaning on his car, Stan—the only other person who'd actually been ready to go at 6:30—looked over Bill's shirt and trout slippers, and asked warily, "You didn't forget that humans need to wear pants, right?"

Bill got to his feet, shoved his makeshift umbrella-cane under the same arm as his beach towel, and pulled up the hem of the puma shirt he'd stolen from the gift shop to reveal his bikini bottom. It was teal with little puffy gold triangles painted on. "Cover-up dress. Your arbitrary fashion rules are different for beaches."

Stan considered whether a t-shirt counted as a dress, decided he didn't know enough about dresses and he might as well give this one to Bill, and grunted. "Fine, you're legal."

"Am I free to go, officer?"

"Never compare me to a cop again."

"Stop acting like one!" Bill trotted off to his ride to wait for the other humans to assemble.

There wasn't room for all eight beachgoers in one vehicle; the Pines piled together in Stan's car, while the Ramirezes (including Melody—honorary future Ramirez—and Bill—magic braceleted to Abuelita) took Soos's truck. So that Abuelita didn't have to squeeze past the front seats into the back, Bill and Melody were assigned the back bench; when Bill greeted Melody and she only responded with a vague mumble and an averted gaze, he scooted closer to the middle of the bench, spread his knees to take up more space, and smugly pretended not to notice how Melody squeezed herself against the door.

By the time the Ramirez vehicle parked at the beach, the Pines family was already out of their car: Stan was glaring up the beach with his fists on his hips, the kids were unsuccessfully searching Mabel's supply bag for Dipper's sunscreen, and Ford was lingering back at the car, pretending to check the contents of their tackle box but actually trying to shake the sudden memory of weightlessness and water in his throat. As Bill passed, Ford muttered, "I'm surprised you wanted to get this close to the lake so soon. Considering." It had been less than a week since their joint near death experience.

"Why not? Nearly drowning was the most fun part of that hike." (Ford wondered whether that was a red flag, an underhanded comment about how unfun the rest of the hike had been, or just Bill being Bill; and, for his own peace of mind, decided it was probably the third thing.) "Looks like you got something fun out of the trip, too." Bill snapped the shoulder strap of Ford's waders.

Ford shoved Bill's hand away. "As long as I have them, I might as well use them."

When everyone caught up with Stan, he was scowling at four men, ages ranging from 50 to 80, wearing fishing vests and hats with the Holy Mackerel's distinctive stylized fish symbol. "Eugene," Stan muttered. "Eugene and his goons wanted to kick me out of the lodge for years. Just because I have a grating personality and am generally unpleasant to be around! And tried to get the lodge to pick a local affordable housing fund as our charity for fundraising one year!"

Ford gave Stan a surprised look. "You never mentioned you worked with an affordable housing charity."

"Yeah. The Compassionate Angel's Fund For Gravity Falls Tourism Business Owners Who Are Behind On Their Mortgage Payments."

Ford snorted. 

Bill said, "I think you should've gotten away with it just for being funny."

"Don't even look at them," Stan instructed the group. "These jerks aren't worth it." The collected group studiously avoided looking at the Mackerels, except Bill and Abuelita, who didn't care.

As they walked up the beach toward the pier and veered around the Mackerels, Stan suddenly stopped, turned straight toward them, and said loudly, "Why, Eugene! What a coincidence! I almost didn't notice you!"

A tall, elderly man with a fishing rod over one shoulder and a black wooden cane in his other hand glanced over at the Pines/Ramirez party. "Oh," he said, with a voice like he'd found a fly stuck in gum on his cane. "Hello, Stan-ley. We haven't seen you out on the lake this summer."

Stan laughed loudly, as if Eugene had told a hilarious joke. "Oh, that! I was just waiting for perfect fishing weather! I'm not about to waste my time out on the lake on a bad fishing day!" He gestured behind himself, "Besides, I had to wait until my whole family was free to come along."

(Soos elbowed Melody and whispered excitedly, "He called us his family!")

Stan clapped his hands proudly on Dipper and Mabel's shoulders—who looked like they hoped the sandy beach would swallow them whole—and said, "I don't see your family, Eugene, where are they?"

"Dead." With mournful dignity, Eugene said, "I outlived my wife and all three of my children. Remember? You ate potato chips during my daughter's funeral."

Stan opened his mouth, shut it, and said, "Was that the really boring one that went like an hour?"

Ford, who didn't always have the best social instincts but could tell when Stan had screwed up, started shooing the rest of the family away from the scene, elbowed Stan, and said, "Let's get to the boat. You wanted to get a prime fishing spot, right?"

Eugene looked at Ford. "Ah. You must be the real Stanford Pines?" he said. "So I'm assuming, anyway. Apparently it's hard to tell you two apart."

Stan scowled; but before he could retort, Bill pushed past him to butt into the conversation. "Is it ever! Listen, take it from someone who's made this mistake—you've got to count the fingers on these two, every time."

Eugene huffed sardonically. "So it seems." (Ford self-consciously hid his hands in his pockets and shot Bill a dark look as he shuffled off with the rest of the family.)

"Say, while I've got your attention—name's Goldie, by the way—I couldn't help but admire your cane!" He tapped the tip of his umbrella against Eugene's cane. "I'm in the market for an upgrade from this substitute I've been using! That's no blackwood, right? That looks like true ebony."

"Good eye," Eugene said, surprised. "Yes, genuine Gaboon ebony."

"Must've dropped a lot of gold on this thing," Bill said appreciatively. "You've gotta tell me where you got it."

"I'm afraid I don't remember off the top of my head..."

"That's fine! Look it up—" (he twisted around to speak over his shoulder as Stan grabbed his arm and dragged him away) "—I'm sure we'll meet again!"

About fifteen feet away, Stan growled, "What was that?"

"Networking. I've got plans for that guy," Bill said. "Hey, did you hear him? Gaboon ebony?" He laughed condescendingly. "Easiest way to make a guy look like a moron, start talking about 'true' ebonies. Didja know the word 'ebony' comes from Egyptian? And when they talked about 𓍁𓈖𓏭𓆱, they were talking about African blackwood. Wood so hard it sinks and you have to tool it like a metal! Gaboon ebony is a flimsy usurper!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"But you don't pretend you do, and that's what makes you better than that guy." Bill tugged Stan down by the shoulder. "Listen, Fisherman. I can't tell you where the fish are biting but I can tell you where they're swimming. It'll give you an advantage, but you'll need to do the rest."

Stan squinted mistrustfully at Bill. "What's the catch."

"The catch is you have to accept my help. Do you want it or not?"

"And why are you offering?"

"Because I think these lodge guys are a bunch of snobs. And they should've chosen your charity. It was funny."

That, plus Stan had been the most reluctant to let Bill live; Bill had to convince him he'd made the right choice.

Bill gave Stan directions to a bunch of fish he could see underwater by the Island Head Beast's right earhole; and then, his good deed for the day done, he headed off to claim a spot on the beach.

Ford had gone into Tate & Backle's to properly purchase the clothing they'd borrowed after the eclipse, and Soos was helping set Abuelita up with a low beach chair and a large umbrella. Bill smoothed out a patch of sand about ten feet from Abuelita so he could lay out his beach towel and dump his supplies for the day beside it. While Mabel and Melody got the boat ready, Dipper wandered around looking for sunscreen to borrow. He saw Bill's tube, snatched it without asking, and generously coated his arms, legs, and face. Bill fought back a grin and pretended not to notice.

He tossed aside his t-shirt and fish slippers, settled down on the towel in his bikini, carefully squeezed several horizontal lines of reverse sunscreen across the front of his abdomen and thighs, and drew a few vertical lines in between to break them up.

Ford trudged over from the bait shop to tell Bill, "I thought you'd like to know those ridiculous fish slippers were thirty dollars."

Bill laughed. "Whoa! Seems like a lot of money for some cheap novelty shoes! It's too bad you decided to trap me in a position where I'm too destitute and powerless to make my own purchases, isn't it?"

"All right, all right." Ford's gaze caught on the bruise-blue line discoloring the skin from Bill's left shoulder to his right hip—had he gotten injured during one of his hikes the past week? Or had that always been there? Ford didn't think he'd ever seen Bill's body shirtless, maybe it had always been here—but then he noticed Bill's lines of sunscreen and barked a laugh. "I suppose you're not planning to rub that in."

"Brilliant observation." Bill began smoothing down the lines with a finger, maintaining the pattern he'd drawn.

"You wanted to come out here to suntan? I'm sure you're already aware of the cancer risks from tanning."

"If I'm in this body long enough to get cancer, I'll welcome it." Bill lay down, laced his hands behind his head, and gave Ford an obnoxious smile. "Anyway, basal cell carcinomas are delicious. There's something kinda romantic about them, you know?"

Ford ruminated on that with thoughtful bafflement, shushed the voice in his head trying to point out that Bill was waving ever more red flags, and concluded that perhaps humans weren't meant to comprehend the romanticism of skin cancer. "Fine."

"What's everyone standing around for?" Stan asked, trudging up to Soos and Ford. "C'mon, we're burning daylight! Let's..." He trailed off, staring at Bill.

His bikini top consisted of two triangular red cups. Each cup had an enormous staring eye.

"See something ya like?" Bill asked dryly.

Stan quickly looked away. "Ugh. That's indecent."

"What is?"

"That—design!"

"What's indecent about eyeballs?"

"It looks like...!" He gestured vaguely but emphatically.

"What? What does it look like? Tell me what it looks like, Stanley."

"Never mind!" He turned away with a huff and muttered to Ford, "Can you believe him?"

"I honestly didn't notice anything until you pointed it out." Ford waved back at Bill dismissively as he followed Stan toward the boat. "Enjoy your sunburn."

"I will! I haven't had a good sunburn in centuries! That's one of the best features of earthling bodies!" Bill got comfortable and shut his eyes.

Soos finished getting Abuelita settled, headed toward the boat—but hesitated as he passed by Bill. Bill opened an eye a crack to glower up at him. "What?"

Soos mumbled, "You could've just told me you wanted to get sunburned. I mean—yesterday."

"But you didn't ask if I wanted a sunburn," Bill snapped. "You just assumed I didn't know how they work. And that's the point: you assumed I was stupid instead of considering that maybe you didn't know my plan."

"Oh. Uh... sorry." Soos rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to make you feel stupid."

Bill's irritation flared higher. He sat up. "I didn't say you made me feel stupid," he hissed, voice low, talking fast. "There's nothing that you could do to make me feel stupid. But that doesn't mean you aren't treating me like I'm stupid, does it?"

"Whoa—!" Soos raised his hands defensively. "Chill, dawg. I didn't mean—"

"What's the phrase, do ut des? 'Do unto others'? Your species's phrase. Don't treat me like I'm stupider than you and I won't have to return the favor—sound like a fair deal, Question Mark?" Bill stared up at him challengingly, brows raised.

"But th— I w— You..." Soos's protests that he'd been doing nothing but trying to do-unto-others Bill got jumbled all around under the force of Bill's spotlight glare. His shoulders slumped. "Sure," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"Good." Bill lay back down. "Get out of my sun."

Soos trudged away; and Bill took a deep breath, tried to get in a meditative mindset where he could shut off his mind, and focused on the feeling of sunshine on his body.

He'd just about managed to drop into a proper trance when Abuelita called sweetly, "Bill? Would you grab a bottle of water for me?"

His face twitched toward a frown as he was dragged back to full consciousness. Hadn't Soos left them close enough for her? Some grandson. 

"Bill?"

He tried to think of an excuse to stay where he was; then growled in irritation and sat up. "Okay, okay." He couldn't afford to offend the chef with access to the poisons.

The bag with the water bottles was right behind Abuelita's elbow; but maybe her joints were stiff. Bill knelt to unzip the bag. "Another bodice ripper?" he asked, glancing at her book. 

"A powerful sorceress queen has been captured by her enemies. She just learned they are led by her former apprentice."

"I can sympathize with that." Bill dragged the bag up next to Abuelita's knee so he wouldn't need to grab another bottle for her later. "Who's the love interest—guileless guard? Heroic rescuer?"

"The apprentice."

"Sympathy's gone." Bill glanced toward the boat to see what the rest of the household was up to.

They'd already reached the spot Bill had indicated and started fishing. Soos was excitedly reeling in his line; the boat listed to one side as everyone crowded around him to see what he'd brought up. Stan dipped a net in the water to scoop up his catch.

It was a boot.

Everyone's faces fell in disappointment.

Except for Ford's, who gleefully snatched up the boot he'd kicked off during the eclipse when he fell in the lake. He dumped the water out of his boot, switched places with Soos, and began fishing the same spot.

Abuelita said, "My grandson has been very nice to you."

Bill looked at her warily.

"Hasn't he?" She had a polite smile and daggers in her eyes.

He had the oddest feeling that this was going somewhere dangerous. "Yeah yeah yeah, sure he has," Bill said. "Nothing but nice. I think I'll take a little stroll, stretch these legs! See ya!" He stood to escape.

He only got a step away before the enchanted bracelet pulled tight around his wrist. He turned around to stare in amazement.

Abuelita had wrapped the slack of the bracelet thread around her hand.

Bill had made a severe miscalculation.

"So," Abuelita said. "Why are you being mean to my grandson." It was a trap all along. She'd agreed to be handcuffed to him so she could corner him for an interrogation.

"Whaaat," Bill said. "Me? No way! I'd never!"

Abuelita stared at him patiently.

"I don't even talk to him," Bill said, trying to think of a conversational escape route.

She raised a brow.

Got it. "He's just too nice, you see! I don't know how to talk to a guy that nice," he lied. "Makes things awkward!" How could any grandmother complain about her grandson being called too nice? "Yeah—not Jesús's fault at all. I don't hold it against him."

"Ah," Abuelita said, "you aren't used to people being nice to you?"

Sure, they could go with that, try to get him some pity. "Yeah! You know how it is. King of Nightmares, scourge of the multiverse—I'm not a popular guy."

"But you have friends, don't you? The scary ones you brought with you to town last year? Are they not nice to you?"

Bill hesitated, trying to figure out his story now. "Sure—they're nice to me. They're my friends! They love me! They'd do anything I say!"

"Oh. So, you're only comfortable with people being nice to you when you can control them." Abuelita smiled sweetly.

Swift, efficient, and brutal. Bill gaped at her.

"I'm glad you have nothing against Soos," she said. "And that you won't be rude to him."

Bill snapped his mouth shut. "Of course not." He gave Abuelita a tight smile. Played like a fiddle. Even though he'd been lying, she still managed to make him look like a loser. How embarrassing. "If you don't mind, I've got a sunburn to get back to."

"I'm not stopping you." She let the extra thread on the bracelet cuffs unwind from her hand and drop to the sand.

Bill trudged back to his towel, snapping as he went, "I hope this is one of those books you hate where the couple only gets hitched because they've got a baby coming."

"The sorceress has magical birth control."

"Course she does."

Bill flopped onto his towel again and stared at the sky. Ouch.

####

(I've been promising Agent Powers AND a beach episode for ages, and we finally get to them both at the same time. Let me know what y'all think so for!)

[landograndprix]

woman ✾ l.n - ii

❧ you love max, you really do but your little brother has been getting more on your nerves each day as he tries to set you up with one of his friends.

❧ verstappen!reader who's older than max so if age gaps freak you out, don't read 💀

❧ prev part – next part

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y/nverstappen

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by kellypiguet, landonorris and 178,672 others

y/nusername only valid reason to visit Monaco if we're being completely honest 🥐

tagged: kellypiguet

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maxkellyp y/n taking her aunt duties very serious

bott_ass where to apply to have you as my sugar auntie? asking for a friend?

zhou_ey time to have your own babies 😍

y/nverstappen I'm actually good with being the wine and sugar aunt for now 🍷

zhou_ey that's a pretty cool job too!

kellypiguet bring her home before dinner? 😂

y/nverstappen what do you mean, we're already on our way back to the netherlands, this my kid now.

lewham44 still a better mother figure to p than kelly 🤡

landonorris I know a few spots in Monaco you can't miss 😉

fewtrelllando spot number one: my bedroom

carlito55 lmao @.fewtrelllando jail for you 😭

dandoo mate, this is a post about her niece and you're flirting with y/n or making and attempt to do so? 😂

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y/nverstappen posted to their story

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landonorizzzz

liked by 563 others

landonorizzzz lando in Monaco last night after the GP ❤️

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norr4slan screaming crying throwing up 🤯

lanlan frothing at the mouth..

norstappen wait a damn minute, was that y/n verstappen?! 😭

norrizzfour yeah but if you look closely she's just walking past with her friends and kelly lol they probably all went to the same place

maxiell nah my girl is avoiding him for real 💀

landoscar oh my god he's so pretty 😍

supermaxv MOTHER AND LANDO?

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y/nverstappen

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 199,752 others

y/nverstappen Monaco dump 🇲🇨

tagged: sannetje, maxverstappen1, kellypiguet

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dannyricric man I'd do anything to live a life like this

tom1967 she's living off her brothers wealth..

dannyricric I'm pretty sure she makes enough money herself to live a life like this. 🙄

julieeeexo you and sanne served absolute cunt on the grid! 🤩

bobnorriz not the picture of the charles, max and lando podium :')

kellypiguet was really nice to have you around this weekend, we should definitely do this more often, P absolutely adores her auntie 🥰

Comment liked by y/nverstappen

charles_leclerc it was very nice we got to hang out together☺

Comment liked by y/nverstappen

sharllekler this guy makes me cringe so hard but it's so endearing, like did he pull all his girlfriend's by being awkward? 😭

sixteenleclerc girl have you seen y/n? She's got something that'll make most men awkward as fuck

victoriaverstappen so sad we couldn't join you two this year

y/nverstappen we should already plan for next year then 😉

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y/nverstappen

📍 Amsterdam, the Netherlands

liked by landonorris, kellypiguet and 201,432 others

y/nverstappen protect your peace 🌸

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bananaclerc hey, yes, hi..I'd like to be you 😭

norrisoscar I've only known this woman for a week but I'm already obsessed with her

keirarobins do I spy new products for the store? 👀

y/nusername keep an eye open 😉

zhou_ey I don't know if I want to be you or if I want to be with you 😭

sannetje is that my hat?

y/nverstappen don't know what you're talking about..

sannetje sure..

landonorris I need that candle

maxv1 boy go to her store lmao, this is no webshop 💀

landonorris 🔥

grussell63 man I really thought you had more game than this..who taught you this, Charles? 😢

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taglist

@hockeyboysarehot @beatricemiruna @starwarssavy23 @be-your-coffee-pot

[tubbytarchia]

Jimmy and fatherly Doc brainrot part 2 the canary boogaloo (Part 1)

I'm sure it's very evident that I have not made comics before but please be gentle, I am but a noob 😔✊️

I hope I was able to make the TNT thing clear enough haha but if not, its a trap in which the TNT minecarts are supported by a door, and they'll fall and explode when the door is opened. If the door opens to the side that the minecarts are supported on though, they'll stay balanced on the door and nothing happens. I think Jimmy would make this mistake lol. Took me 4 tries to get the trap to work myself when I tested it even as I followed Cub's tutorial. And then it also needs a block behind the powered rails which I could not figure out for the love of me

Is this Doc's base that Jimmy's trapping? Uhh probably not but who knows. I dont think Doc would even build a base with a normal door entrance is the thing lol (not when hes a big goat man and doesnt even fit through a normal door without hunching over (hence him being all hunched at the door)). Idk if Jimmy would dare to trap Doc's stuff regardless (probably not). Doc just happened to be here wahoo plot convenience

Anyhow that's Last Life yayy. Double Life next and you know there'll be ranchers but that'll be the last nice one too. LimL and SL are just gonna be angst because I love to hurt myself like that. Just you wait

[phoenixyfriend]

Remember my post about Anakin pulling a Mike Murdock? Yeah, no, I have a full on AU concept now (with contributions by @threebea! indented)!

He lies so hard about having a brother that the universe invents a twin from scratch for him. It happens when Anakin is like twelve.

Anakin was just committing to the bit on a mission because he was bored.

The Force was also bored.

Oh no Anakin force manifests a sibling Obi-Wan: …That's not how the Force works. Anakin: You tell the Force that. Obi-Wan: Well, I suppose this would be your half-brother since the Force is your shared parent. Obi-Wan after the initial shock: This might as well happen.

New brother is better at some things and worse at others, as any person is. Anakin is, naturally, a fucking mess about all that, worries he'll be replaced, etc.

Obi-Wan just brings this to the Council and nobody can DENY this Skywalker from the Jedi after they already took the first one. So. Mace volunteers.

This Skywalker is a bit more Force than Anakin, got glowing eyes and visions and the Animal Communion buff. But is worse at flying, worse at tech, and unfathomably worse at people. Which is a FEAT, since Anakin's not too hot at social skills in the first place.

Mace has his hands full in many ways, including "keep this child from walking face first into the wall."

Obi-Wan: We are not calling him Anagain.

Anakin had many mixed feelings but! If he's going to have family then he's going to commit!

The other option is that the brother is younger by enough that the Older Brother instincts kick in, but I think the one-sided twin rivalry is funnier.

Anakin: I'm a big brother now. Anagain: I think we're supposed to be twins. Anakin: I have more worldly experience. Anagain: I'm taller. Anakin: wut Anagain: alpha twin alpha twin (that's his nickname until you come up with actual name lol) Obi-Wan: Well, I'm taller than both of you, and while that is the case you both need to listen to me. Anagain: (flash of foresight) So, not for long Obi-Wan: What? Anagain: Nothing. Mace: (the Shatterpoints are blinding) Yeah, I'll be taking this one. More seriously tho, Anakin definitely torn between what if everyone likes him better he's born from the force what if he's the chosen one what if and also: I have a brother I have family I need to take care of him. Probably some fun twin force bond too. Oh man Sheev after digesting all of that would definitely try to get some jealousy going.

Anakin talks about the new brother with terms like Freshly Hatched and Innocent Baby and it's mostly a joke except that now HE thinks Palps is a creep when it's aimed at Not Him.

Palpatine: When do I get to meet him? Anakin: [absolutely not] Mace won't let him [Yeah that'll work] Mace: Yeah, absolutely not, he didn't help save Naboo there's no reason for my Padawan to have a relationship with the Supreme Chancellor

I've decided to call the brother Aion (EY-yon). I like the whole thing about Anakin's name being based on Ananke, even if it's a disputed thing, so I go for Greek myth when doing alt names for siblings.

Mace still bitter about having to let Palps get time with Anakin not about to do the same if he can help it. Although that comic takes place later eh (handwaves) still The Jedi might try to be hush hush about where aion came from anyway since he would fall directly under Jedi business

Help I'm imagining Mace and Obi-Wan on a walk and the twins are on child leashes. Anakin because ADHD will have him trying to run off to look at something. And Aion because he's going to be so distracted by visions that he will walk into traffic.

"Can we send a letter to mom so she knows he exists?" The other thought was ANAKIN holding the child leash for Aion, and then Obi-Wan or Mace holding the one for Anakin. Lil chain.

Aion: Hey… I know I've only existed for a few months, and yes my memories of before are sort of built by the Force, but I'm pretty sure the Supreme Chancellor is evil. Mace: You saw that in a vision? Aion: No, he's just super creepy. Bad vibes.

Obi-Wan: Of course he's evil, he's a career politician. Anakin: What about your friend from Alderaan? Obi-Wan: That's different.

One of these boys is constantly zoning out. The other is smiling, but the smile contains murder.

They're both adhd but with wildly different sides of it.

EXACTLY

Also.

Aion: [silent, a bit upset but mostly chill] Anakin, holding his hand: He asked for no pickles!

[amourtoken]

It seems yall want me to elaborate on the "fucking wolf cut Noah in some sketchy venue bathroom" thing so I will lol and just pretend the timeline is right OK let me live my shitty little fantasy won't u

♡ Can't help but imagine it's right around when Bad Omens started yk they weren't playing the huge shows they are now they were going literally anywhere they could and that definitely lead to some less than savory locations. REGARDLESS you're gonna show up for Noah and the boys, they're great friends of yours and it doesn't matter where they're playing, you're endlessly happy to see them performing.

You'd driven well over 2 hours to be here tonight and you're literally in the middle of nowhere but the crowd seems really energetic even though there's probably 100-200 people there rn max cause of how small the place is. There were a couple other relatively small groups playing tonight as well so Bad Omens had a bit of free time before their set, how did Noah choose to spend this free time? Burying himself in your pussy while you're sat on a dingy bathroom counter ofc.

♡ maybe it's the nerves maybe it's the opposite he just needed to take this excess energy out somewhere and when he saw you in that cute dress he really couldn't help himself he needed to see it pushed up to your hips while your legs were around his waist so bad. He's got one hand bracing himself against the mirror that lines the whole wall behind the sink and the other is holding your jaw steady so he can kiss you while rocking his hips into yours. It's not even coordinated, it's a mess of spit and teeth but he's just happy your lips are brushing his tbh, he'll catch your bottom lip w his teeth on occasion and his cock throbs at the sweet whine it draws out of you.

♡ his pace picks up and so does the force behind his thrusts. He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and at this point he's mostly supporting your weight himself but at this angle he can fill you so much deeper. It feels like he's stealing the air from your lungs every time his tip slams against your poor cervix. The music outside the bathroom is loud but if someone were right next to the door they'd surely hear you whimpering and crying Noah's name, which drives him to fuck you even harder cause he doesn't give a fuck if everyone in this venue hears you, he needs them to know who you belong to as if the cum that'll be dripping down your legs when he's finished or the dark hickeys he covered your neck in weren't enough. He may as well brand you at this point.

You were bracing your hands on the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady but when he drug you to the edge and started supporting you himself you threw your arms around his neck, whining right against his ear when he hit that sensitive spot that made your legs shake. He shifts again to pick you up entirely, bouncing you on his cock damn near effortlessly like you were just a toy for him. You tightened your arms around his neck and he laughed against your ear.

"I got you baby I'm not gonna drop you- fuck- I promise"

♡ his hands on your ass holding you up end up spreading you wider and he's drilling you so deep any sounds that manage to leave your throat are broken and pathetic. Your brain feels so fuzzy all you can think about is him, how he feels, how he tastes, how he sounds, nothing else dares cross your mind. The coil in your belly is so close to snapping and you almost wish it wouldn't so you could enjoy the moment with Noah longer but fuck when his nails sink into your ass and he takes a step to press your back against the wall while he's fucking you, you can't hang onto it much longer. He can tell.

"Fuck- so fuckin' tight for me baby, gonna cum? Yeah I know- shit- cum for me please- fuck, please-"

"I'm close too- need to feel you first-"

By now he's almost as incoherent as you are, just chasing pleasure and acting like you two are the only people on earth. You're so close tears are pricking your eyes and Noah pulls you in for another sloppy kiss while he grinds himself into you, the feeling of his hips against yours and your clit brushing his lower stomach throw you over the edge violently. You're shaking and twitching in his arms and he's holding you steady against the wall even though his rhythm is starting to falter and his moans are pitching up.

♡ he slams you down onto his dick when he finally spills inside you, stifling the unhinged noises by sinking his teeth into your neck and rutting into you until all the excess cum is dripping out of you and onto the floor below Noah's feet. Once he feels steady enough he'll set you back down on the counter and pull out, leaving you feeling pathetically empty. You don't trust your legs to hold you up yet and you're leaning against Noah for support still, arms loosely around his waist while your face is against his chest and his head is resting on top of yours. He'd stay like this forever if he could but Bad Omens is up next and by now everyone's looking for him.

Noah pulls you in for another kiss, this time softer but still just as passionate, and he apologizes for not being able to spend more time in here with you. He pinkie promises to fuck you right next time, somewhere more comfy, before he kisses you on the forehead and leaves the bathroom to catch up with the rest of the band before they go on.