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ofstoriesandstardust · 10 months ago

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i just want your love (twisters - boone)

a/n: whatever, you can pry this from my cold dead heads.

summary: You've been a bit busy with the start of your master's program and Boone is feeling just the teeny tiniest bit left out.

warnings: fluff, alcohol mentions, swearing, insecurities, i hate you theory, when i catch you theory, unedited i wrote this in like an hour and a half

word count: 1.8k

Now, despite popular opinion, Boone was actually smart.

While most people would’ve written him off as an uneducated, thoughtless hillbilly, Boone actually had a decent head on his shoulders. Reckless, yeah, loud and chaotic, sure. But he was the best editor the team had, swiftly cutting through b-roll and different angles, always putting on the best show for their viewers.

But academia was not and never had been and probably never would be Boone’s strong suit. He hadn’t even finished high school.

And when you had made the decision to go back to school for your Master’s you had warned him that it would be a huge time commitment on your end, that you wouldn’t be able to put as much effort or attention into your relationship as you had before.

Your first semester would be the Fall semester, right at the heart of the off-season. He had pledged to you that he would be the best partner to you as you made the adjustment and he had pledged to himself that he would do his very best to stay out of your way.

And yeah, sure, it was an adjustment for you. The long days were killer on you but he always made sure you had a lunch packed and a decent dinner to come home to (and if Cathy and Tyler were giving him tips and tricks and recipes on the side, no one needed to know). He had made sure to make himself scarce or at the very least quiet on weekends, hanging out more with Javi or Tyler and Kate, putting together more footage for compilation videos, and even picking up a new video game Javi had recommended to him. He was pretty sure even Dani and Lilly were sick of him hanging around their place, always bugging Lilly about Cairo and upgrades they could make, even though none of his friends ever had the heart to tell him to go away.

But this was killing him. He had been doing okay, because you usually spent time with him after dinner on the weekends or made breakfast with him and on Friday nights he could coerce you to curl up on the couch with a beer and takeout and watch a movie before you inevitably fell asleep with a piece of pizza in hand, forty five minutes into the movie.

But last night, a Saturday, you hadn’t left the office for dinner until an hour and a half after he had finished it and had stood in the kitchen only long enough to scarf down two helpings before disappearing to finish your homework. And dammit, he missed you. He wanted to curl up with you, you tugging your fingers through his hair, as he laid his head on your stomach and you told him about your day. He wanted to be able to finish editing a video and get your feedback on it before sending it over to the rest of the group. He wanted to tell you about the improvements he and Javi and Lilly were making to Cairo to get better footage and data from the drone.

So today, as you’re blinking yourself awake through your third sip of coffee, Boone declares he’s going to help you with your homework.

You raise an eyebrow at him, silent question in your look. He chooses to ignore it, silently proud of himself, thinking about all the time you’ll get to share with him if he finds a way to help you. Maybe he can read your readings to you as you take notes, or help you come up with questions for discussion, or edit through your reflection assignments for class.

A stack of paper lands in front of him and he glances up at you. You gesture to it silently as you take your seat, clearly waiting for him to “help”.

He gingerly picks up the packet, flipping over to the first page and is instantly overwhelmed by the words “empiricism” and “epistemology” and “temporal” and “postulates” and “discursive constitutions”.

“What in the fresh hell does any of this mean?” He mutters as he flips through it, confusion and embarrassment blurring the foreign words together in the face of the truth: He couldn’t help you with this. He wasn’t smart enough.

You snort into your coffee. “You tell me. You’re the one who said you could help.”

He lets the papers fall to the table, cheeks burning in shame. You falter, setting your cup down before standing up, wrapping your arms around him from behind. One of your hands combs itself through his curls, working out the knots that had formed while he was asleep last night.

“Baby, if I can’t figure it out, I don’t know how you expect to figure it out.”

“Hey.” He protests weakly, face growing even hotter in shame at the callout, twisting to pull away from you but your grip tightens.

“Easy, that’s not what I’m saying.” You say with a tug on his hair. “‘M saying it’s hard all-around and I’m familiar with this field. No wonder it don’t make sense to you. And maybe I shouldn’t have given you the theory, that shit’s meant to be hard, but I wanted to make a point.” He sighs, knowing you’re telling the truth. “Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I just-” He sighs, feeling like an idiot for even saying it. “I just miss you.”

Your hand pauses in his hair. “Boone, we talked about this.”

And you had. You had made it so clear to him that you would be busy, maybe too busy, and you’d understand if he wanted to break it off. But he hadn’t wanted to lose you and that fear had made him panic, promising things he wasn’t sure he could sustain.

And Javi and Kate had both warned him separately, the sacrifices grad school required, and even Tyler and Lilly had warned him that the crap he had put up with while they had been in school would be nothing compared to the long work and internship hours, class blocks, and homework loads of grad school.

But he wanted to be with you more than he cared about a couple of road bumps for a few years while you got a degree that would ultimately, hopefully, let you make a little bit more money to create a better life for the two of you. Not that he thought the life you guys had had before was bad, but if another degree and a bit more money in the bank made you happy, he’d back you in that effort, a hundred and ten percent.

And yet, he was starting to get the feeling that he was going to get left behind. You had complained to him that there were primarily men in your program, and while he had laughed with you at the idiot comments they’d make in class, he was starting to wonder if it would just take one connection with any of them for you to realize you could be with someone more your speed. Someone smart and someone who understands whatever fancy-pants words this author was using and someone whose schedules matched yours and would just be a better fit all around.

“Baby, you’re crying.” You whisper and to his horror, he realizes he is, face suddenly wet.

Before he can even do anything about it, your face swims into view as you sit on his lap. His hands immediately find your waist, the need to have you close persisting past the urge to pretend like nothing is wrong.

Your thumbs wipe away his tears. “What’s wrong, my love?” You whisper softly, concern etched into the lines of your face. He gives a pitiful shrug.

“I just think that- that maybe you need to be with someone better. Someone smarter, I guess. Someone who understands what the word postulates means.”

“I think if anyone who understands theory should legally be considered a psychopath.” Your face falls when he doesn’t laugh at the joke and you sigh. “Baby, you are plenty smart, even if it isn’t with this shit.”

“But what if you meet someone better there? Someone who can understand you?”

You give a sad smile. “Baby, you do understand me. And all those men are old or married or gay or extremely annoying. Or E, all of the above. I don’t want them.”

“But you want me?”

It doesn’t make sense to him. It has never made sense to him, but it especially doesn’t make sense to him now.

“Booney, of course I want you. How could I not?”

And well, he could think of one or two reasons. Or twenty.

“Booney, this has been one of the hardest adjustments in my life. But you’ve been so great through it, always making sure I eat and go to bed at a decent hour and do all my homework so I’m not waking up at odd hours of the night, stressed out of my mind. And it’s been really fucking lonely, being at a school where I can’t along with any of my classmates and I don’t know anyone else, but you’re always making sure I’m seeing the Wranglers for barbecue at least once a week, or catching up with Kate over coffee or going riding with Tyler. You’re making sure my head stays on, making sure I’m taking care of myself. And I’m sorry I haven’t been taking care of you in return.

“No,” He protests. “No, this is dumb shit, it ain’t-”

“It ain’t dumb shit, it’s your feelings, and I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention. I’m gonna make more of an effort to try.” Once he nods, and you see the confirmation you’re looking for, you sigh, hands leaving his face. “Listen, I only got one chapter to read today, so let me finish eating and go do that, and then I’m yours the rest of the day. You can have me all day, although I should maybe shower at some point, cause I can’t remember the last time I took one.”

He offers you a watery smile. “You mean it? I’m not gonna be a major distraction? If you got shit to do, I- I understand. I can go over to T’s or something.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I mean it.”

“Can we just- just stay in bed the whole day? Watch movies or something?” He asks shyly. You nod, a grin growing.

“Sounds heavenly baby.”

He lets you go, maybe a bit reluctantly, as you finish your eggs before disappearing into the office, and then to the shower an hour later. He can’t help but join you, almost too pleased to have your undivided attention.

Later that night, as both of your phones are set on the nightstand on do not disturb, takeout containers strewn across the room, the Harry Potter films flickering on a forgotten screen, he nudges your cheek with his nose. “I fucking love you baby.” He whispers. “You’re- the whole world to me.”

You hum, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you too, baby. I ain’t going nowhere, nowhere in the whole world I’d wanna be then right here.”

#twisters boone #boone x reader #boone x female reader #twisters boone fic #twisters boone x reader #twisters #twisters fic

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debilsposts · 3 months ago

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Another dumb long-ass hc time because this time, I'm just bored, and I have like 30 followers, which means I can say whatever I want with no real consequences. Okay, so you know the principle of least interest, where whoever cares less in a relationship holds the most power? Yeah. jaytim can be a textbook example of this, except the power balance keeps shifting like a badly played game of chess. And, proven by GK video game, they actually do suck at chess at first.

Tim has mastered the art of restraint. He wants, but never too much. He cares, but never visibly. He moves through most things like it’s a game of chess – never reaching too far at first, never tipping his hand. His favorite piece is, unsurprisingly, the rook, one of the most underestimated pieces, but the most powerful toward the endgame, when the board is open, and he sees a clear path to getting what he wants.

Jason is the opposite. He feels with a reckless, all-consuming intensity. When he cares, it’s devouring. Which is why he keeps himself locked down, why he pushes and snarls and pretends he doesn’t want anything at all. Jason is a knight, wild, unpredictable, moving in patterns that don’t make sense to anyone but him. A piece that jumps over obstacles instead of maneuvering around them.

So, Tim plays his pieces carefully, deliberately. He waits for Jason to move first, waits for him to overextend, because Jason will overextend. That’s just how he is. He goes all in, always.

But Tim doesn’t capture him. Not yet. He tries to keep his own feelings safe, his defenses solid, his emotions locked behind a perfectly constructed wall of pawns. He makes it impossible for Jason to chase them. Makes him doubt. Jason is the one leaping in first, the one wanting more, the one Tim keeps at a distance just because he can.

Tim’s the one who says things like, “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?” And Jason? Jason is the one who acts like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t gut him when Tim resets the board before he can even play.

And he keeps doing so, very often.

But here’s the thing – Jason is a competitive bastard. If he realizes he’s there's no way of winning this, he does the one thing Tim never accounted for.

He flips the board.

No more games. Jason just walks away.

“I'm tired of waiting for more.”

And Tim?

Tim panics.

Because Jason wasn’t supposed to do that. He was supposed to stay. He was supposed to keep jumping back. He wasn't supposed to be able to walk away and take half of Tim with him. Tim thought he had control, but now Jason is gone, and suddenly the game isn’t the same anymore.

So he finds himself searching, chasing, breaking his own rules.

He finds himself playing blind, making desperate moves, leaving his heart exposed just to bring Jason back to the board.

Tim sacrifices calculation for instinct. He abandons caution, trades logic for emotion, and steps into the open unarmed, hoping, praying, that Jason will see it for what it is.

"'s not a trap. Not a trick. Just– come back."

And maybe Jason does. Maybe he hovers at the edge of the board, watching Tim dismantle his own defenses, watching him make foolish, reckless moves that don’t suit a master tactician.

Maybe Jason lets him suffer a little. Makes him sweat. Because if Tim wants him, he should have to prove it.

But then, chess isn’t a game of brute force, it’s a game of patience. Of control and punishment. And love? Love is neither of those things.

Jason has to learn that not every move is an attack. That loving someone doesn’t mean winning or losing. That being vulnerable doesn’t mean being captured.

Tim has to learn that keeping his distance doesn’t actually make him untouchable. That locking down every piece doesn’t stop the board from shifting beneath him.

And the only way they work, the only way they don’t collapse under the weight of their own defenses, is when they stop trying to win. When they stop holding love hostage like a piece they’re afraid to sacrifice.

Because in the end, the principle of least interest doesn’t matter. Because in the end, there’s no checkmate, no final move, no last play that leaves one of them victorious.

Because in the end, Jason never really left the board.

And Tim was always playing for keeps.

#jaytim #tim drake x jason todd #headcanon #my headcanons #I'm a stupid nerd don't know if you can tell #also I just lost a game of chess and I am not good at losing #chess as a love language #someone please write this for me

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shadowsndaisies · 10 months ago

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dogfighting 101: 02 - let's rock and roll

wc: 1k

synopsis: It's been a long time since I rock and rolled, It's been a long time since I did the stroll, Ooh let me get it back, let me get it back, Let me get it back, baby, where I come from

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

“Anyone got eyes on Maverick?” you ask, eyes scanning both your radar and the terrain too.

“No visual,” Harvard confirms.

“He’s here somewhere,” you note and then you realize.

Never only think what’s expected, kid. 360 degrees, all the time It’s something your dad told you were little, he and Ice, they wanted to teach you lessons to help you, things they learned too late. Little tests, quizzes, making sure you were well prepared for whatever life threw at you. Part of you was positive that Ice always knew where you’d end up.

Keeping that lesson in mind, you decide to change your perspective.

“Athena!” Yale’s shout echoes when you invert, a slow roll, completely safe, but not anticipated by your teammates.

Of course, your hunch pays off when you spot your dad from where he'd been shadowing you from below the hard deck, below your radars reach.

“How’s it hanging, old man?” you ask, smiling under your mask, looking through the canopy at him.

“You’re catching on to my tricks too quick, kid,” he throws back and you can practically hear the smirk.

There's a “Oh shit,” over the line from Harvard, but you shake your head as your dad comes up ahead of you both and you flip back once again.

“I know you too well, Sir,” you offer in response.

“Let’s to put that to the test,” he says, “time to turn and burn aviators, fights on!”

He shoots up and you spare another look at the foxtrot team on your right.

“Break right, Yale,” you shout over the line as you peel off left trying to find your Dad again.

“Breaking right,” he confirms.

You both loop around and eventually you find him, he’s already on your ass and you’re trying to shake him off.

“Tally Tally, he’s on your four-side Athena,” Harvard shouts.

“I see him!” you confirm increasing your throttle and turning up in an attempt to loop back around.

Your dad though, is hard to lose.

“I can’t shake him,” you huff, eyes squinting down as you pull evasive maneuvers.

“Athena, how long would you need to get tone?” Yale’s question comes suddenly, and you spot him looping back around, you see the move he’s planning to make, the way he’s positioning himself.

“Not long,” you assure him.

“Get ready to Rock and Roll,” Yale decides.

“I hate the Rock and Roll,” Harvard mutters, and you can’t help the small chuckle that slips out.

“Would you prefer the Do-Si-Do?” you ask, amusement shining through as you turn to set your self up.

“Fuck, no, and you fucking know it,” Harvard denies vehemently, you can hear Yale laugh as you finally get yourself right where you want to be.

“I’m ready to Rock,” you confirm and suddenly you stop the evasive maneuvers.

“Then let’s Roll!” Yale shouts, shooting up.

You, on the other hand, straighten out, and right before Maverick can get tone, Yale dives down in a controlled but fast barrel roll in the gap between you both, it’s not the tightest gap, easily manageable, but enough to give Mav pause, and while Harvard and Yale slowed to avoid the hard deck, you accelerate straight up and then tip back in a vertical roll, it pulls more G’s than you’d expected during your first training run of the detachment, but you manage to level out and get tone on your dad.

Unfortunately your tone comes right after your dad caught Harvard and Yale.

“Shit,” you huff, dejected as Yale pulls up parallel to you.

“Shit,” Mav agrees, flanking your other side, though he sounds more impressed than anything else.

“Harvard, Yale, go see Hondo about your push-ups,” Mav calls, and the foxtrot team starts their descent. “Athena,” he calls, and your gaze jumps out the canopy and at your dad. He hits the glass, pulling his mask off and offering you a rare smile, real and proud, like he did at your high school graduation. “Not bad, Kid,” he says and you smile despite yourself, beginning your own descent.

Harvard, Yale, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob are all stood on the tarmac when you land.

“I have a need,” Yale yells holding up his hands as you get out of your plane.

You roll your eyes but play along, “A need for speed!” you shout, high-fiving him and then Harvard who was stood behind his pilot.

“Not bad, ‘Thena,” Hangman drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be too sad when you don’t get tone, Hangman, we always knew I was the better pilot,” you smirk, winking at him as you walk past.

You shake your head walking with Brigham and Yale, and when they stop by Hondo, you do too.

“You got tone, Athena, no push-ups for you,” Hondo says, frowning when you ditch your vest and gear, rolling your flight suit down and dropping to the ground in line with Harvard and Yale who had already done the same.

“I did,” you confirm, taking a plank beside the two men.

“Athena,” it’s Yale’s voice this time, looking at you with what can only be described as fondness, but also exasperation.

“We’re a team, you got shot down, we all do push-ups,” you say seriously. Then you turn to look up at Hondo, “on your count, Hondo,” you prompt.

“Hold that!” the evident smirk in the voice had your held tilting up and there was your dad. “A deal’s a deal, kid. You got tone, I owe 200 pushups,” your dad smirked down at you, as he dropped to the ground on the other side of you.

“You sure you can manage that? You’re getting up there in years,” you tease.

“Ice would have your head if he heard you age-shaming me,” he shoots back.

“Ice would laugh and join me,” you challenge.

Your dad simply smiles in defeat, turning to Hondo, “like the kid said, on your count, Hondo.”

“If you insist,” he nods, and then, “Down! One! Two! Three!” and the count went on, the four of you doing your push-ups.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291

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rbundollie · 4 months ago

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Batfam animal transformation based on the thought that when you have 2 cats, one is a beautiful idiot and one is a terrifying demon. When two cats show up at the manor, one is sweet and loving around Dick and the other keeps trying to trip him down the stairs. Featuring Damian who tries to help but instead the cats flip personalities around him and Duke who shows up just to be tripped.

Partial Fic

Dick stumbled up from the cave, heading almost blindly to his bedroom. Damian had long since gone to bed, and Duke and Alfred weren't up yet. Bruce and Cass were out of town, though, so there was extra case work for Dick.

Dick trudged up the stairs when a soft sound had him looking down. A cat brushed against his legs with a rumbling purr. Dick reached down and stroked along its silky back. “Hey there. Where'd you come from?” Damain must have snuck it in. The cat melted into his arms as soon as he picked it up. “Okay puss, you can come with me.”

Dick made it up a few more steps when suddenly his foot caught on a weight, and he crashed down. The cat in his arms yowled and flounced off while the cat he'd tripped over hissed loudly in his direction, clearly affronted at his existence.

“Ok, Damian and I are having a talk about this in the morning. How many of you are there?” He hauled his aching body up and finally made it to his room to collapse on the bed.

Dick was dropping off to sleep when a warm presence snuggled up to his back. Dick rolled over and there was the fluffy cat again (at least he hoped it wasn't a third). But it clearly wanted a snuggle so Dick wrapped it up and drifted off to sleep.

Damain eyed the orange cat perched on the top of the fridge. It'd been there when he came into the kitchen that morning, bright green eyes observing as he navigated around. Damian knew how to handle grouchy cats though and the best course of action for now was to ignore it. It'd eventually get hungry or curious and approach him.

After he finished his breakfast and the cat still hadn't climbed down, Damain decided to try the old can of tuna trick.

As soon as the can opener started up, the cat began meowing. Damian barely got the lid off completely before the cat was sticking its head in the can.

"Hold on," Damian softly admonished. "You'll cut yourself." He tipped the can onto a plate and let the cat eat, stroking along its large ginger back. It clearly wasn't starving wherever it came from.

The cat rumbled a deep purr and pushed its head into Damian's hand.

“Very well. How about we retreat to the library. The window seat in there has a perfect sunning pillow we can enjoy.”

Clearly approving of this plan, the cat climbed into Damian's arms.

Dick awoke late the next day and immediately panicked he'd missed taking Damian to school. He threw the covers back, and there was an indignant yowl in response as a fluff flew through the air.

The cat landed on all four paws, glaring at him with its tail up straight and ears back.

“Um sorry puss….” Dick vaulted up and opened the door, skittering around the cat before rushing downstairs. “Damian!! Damian!”

Alfred appeared first. “He's in the library.”

“Thanks Alfie” Dick turned to sprint toward the library when he noticed his bedmate had caught up. The fluffy black cat was pushing up against Alfred's leg.

“New friend sir?”

“I'm not sure when Damian snuck them in but there are at least two.”

“I did no such thing.” Damian appeared. The orange cat that had tried to unalive Dick the prior evening was perched across his shoulders. It hissed at Dick again.

“Tiger here was in the kitchen this morning. It was the first time I'd seen him.”

Damain caught sight of the fluffy black cat. “Oh there is another.”

Orange, now named Tiger, growled. The black cat chittered and pressed back against Dick.

“Hmm…” Alfred looked at them all. “I have to assume one of the others is playing a prank then or it's related to a case. Perhaps call Master Timothy or Master Duke?”

“School!” Dick shouted.

Damain eyed him disdainfully. “It's Saturday Richard.”

“Oh phew. Where is Duke then?”

“Master Duke left earlier for a patrol. He should be back in a few hours.”

Tiger had removed himself from Damian's shoulders and purred at Alfred's feet. The black cat began trying to climb up Dick’s leg.

Damain reached for him and the previously friendly cat hissed and swatted. Tiger took offense on violence towards his friend and squared up. The cats began hissing and swatting each other until Alfred stuck his foot between them. “Maybe separate rooms till we figure out what is going on?”

Dick scooped the black cat which started purring immediately. Damain lifted the ginger and retreated to the library.

And so, it persisted. Dick couldn't approach Damian without Tiger taking offense. The cat seemed to realize that by just puffing up and growling, Damian would send Dick away.

Controversially, the little black cat would yowl and cry if Dick left his sight. He'd run after him with sad noises till Dick reappeared. For no particular reason Dick started calling him Ziggy.

Dick tried reaching out to his brothers but Tim had disappeared (again) and Jason wasn't answering his phone (again) which meant Dick had no idea who was responsible for the animals.

Dick had exhaustedly crashed one room over from Damian's claimed library when Duke finally arrived. “What's with the cat Dick?”

Dick groaned. “I was hoping you'd know.”

"Pretty sure there were no extra cats when I went to bed last night.”

“Is that Thomas!?” Damian yelled from the next room. “Does he know about the cats!?”

“No! He said they weren't here when he went to bed!”

“Why are we yelling!?” Duke chimed in.

“The cats can't be crossed!” Dick yelled in his face.

Ziggy suddenly zoomed out the door. Dick sighed before “Ziggy no!” came a shout from the next room. Duke and Dick rushed over to see Damian dangling Tiger over his head while Ziggy danced around his feet. “Cease and desist, Ziggy!”

Damian tried to step back, but the cat was there immediately. He tripped, fell, and launched the orange furred cat up in the air.

Duke tried to dart forward to catch but suddenly Ziggy was there again and Duke hit the ground. Dick dived and caught Tiger but Tiger didn't appreciate it and bit him on the hand. Dick cursed and let him go. Ziggy was there again and the two ran out of the room together.

The boys were left behind in various prone positions.

~ it's Steph's fault. She dumped the transformed Tim and Jason at the manor because she had a Saturday lab to attend. ~

#dick grayson #damain wayne #duke thomas #tim drake #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #its all Steph's fault #stories based on memes #partial fic #they are cats #tim is the beautiful idiot #jason is the demon #animal transformation

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ckret2 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 23 of human Bill being the Mystery Shack's prisoner is honestly becoming a bigger inconvenience for them than for him, featuring: Bill's ex-girlfriend.

Bill wants to avoid being seen in a human body (humiliating), Mabel wants to know everything about Bill's love life, and Ford and Soos just want to get rid of the safety hazard. And somehow they start here—

—and end up here.

After going through the entire pile of library books on lucid dreaming, Bill found one to recommend to Mabel that had glossy full-color illustrations, simple little meditative exercises, and—most importantly—no information about astral projection. (It was galling enough that her brother had somehow picked up the trick without realizing it; like heck would Bill help Dipper master it unless Bill could think of some way to take advantage of his skill.)

But for himself, Bill elected to follow a slim decades-old guide that advertised full control over your dreams in four weeks or your money back. A frustratingly long wait to master his own dreamscape, but surely Bill could find a way to fend off his execution at least another four weeks. And anyway, Bill was already a dream expert—maybe he could take shortcuts a human couldn't. He'd picked this book for two reasons: it was the shortest of the books Mabel had brought home; and it had Bill's face on the inside cover page, a triangle containing a grayscale human eye. If Bill couldn't trust advice dispensed by his own face, who could he trust?

He flipped to the back of the book, to the section on all the advanced dream tricks the author promised readers could learn once they'd mastered the basics. Telepathically sharing a dream with a lover. Prophetic visions. And of course, astral projection.

He gazed wistfully at the drawing of a body with its humanoid soul floating above it, loosely tethered to its physical shell's belly button by a ghostly cord. When Bill got out, no tether would tie him back to his flesh prison, and the little soul floating free wouldn't look so human.

He hoped it wouldn't, anyway— No. It wouldn't. Surely the Axolotl had only imprisoned him, not altered him... but then, the Ax had strange ideas about mercy.

Well, Bill wasn't getting to those tricks until he mastered the basics. He flipped to the front of the book. Step one of this four-week journey was to establish...

Bill scoffed under his breath. "A dream diary? Seriously?" A primitive travel journal for psychically-stunted creatures who could only peer through the doorway of the mindscape without properly exploring it.

But right now, Bill was one of those creatures. This book was for him, no matter how condescending he thought it was.

He sighed. All right. Dream diary. Fine. Luckily, he'd already assembled all the supplies he needed.

Mabel had spilled out her crayons in front of Bill plenty of times; sometimes she even let him use them. It had taken some careful timing and preparation, but a few days ago he'd grabbed the unloved grey and greenish-yellow crayons—the sharpest in her collection—during a moment she'd left him unsupervised. So that there wouldn't be any gaps in Mabel's meticulously rainbow-ordered crayon box, he'd had to unwrap the crayons, break off the tips and butts, roll out two tubes of Claydough to fill in the gaps, rewrap the false crayons, and stuff them back in the crayon box before Mabel got back. The middles of the crayons were safely spirited away in his hoodie. He was a genius. The humans underestimated him without his powers, but he was the smartest creature in the universe.

Bill was loathe to pull out Ford's Journal 4—he'd entertained some vague fantasy of filling it with the secrets of reality and slipping it somewhere Ford could find it, make him really regret turning his back on Bill's wisdom—but it was good quality paper and it was already in Bill's possession, so he couldn't afford to pass it up.

The lucid dreaming guide recommended keeping the dream diary under his pillow. Considering he was still sleeping on the floor on a couple of stolen couch cushions that he shoved aside as convenient, not likely. If he was supposed to have easy access to it whenever he slept, he couldn't leave it in his usual hidey-hole, either. He pulled the cushion off the window seat, chewed a tiny hole in the seam on the bottom edge, and carefully plucked out the thread to open up a gap along one side where it wouldn't be seen.

He pressed the stuffing out of the way, slid in the journal and crayons, and put the cushion back in place to await his next dream.

As Bill straightened up, he glanced out the attic window—and flinched in surprise.

Just outside, by the trees, was someone he knew. The most beautiful, graceful, desirable person in all the world. Someone he half thought he'd never see again. Bill stared in shock.

And then she turned toward the shack.

Bill ducked out of the window's view. "Heck."

####

"Star girl, we've got trouble." Bill was standing grimly in the kitchen doorway. "My ex is back in Gravity Falls."

Mabel's brain short-circuited so hard that she momentarily lost the ability to see as she processed the revelation that Bill Cipher had a love life. A whole new multiverse of matchmaking possibilities had just opened up. "Your what?!"

Bill pointed upward.

Mabel bolted out of her seat to follow him upstairs.

"Anyway, I assume we're exes," Bill said. "I usually dump people when they die, I'm sure she did the same to me."

Barely listening to him, Mabel gushed, "Bill, you sly dog, you've been holding out on me! I didn't know you dated!" She took his elbow to help keep him from tripping as they headed upstairs. "What's she like? Tell me everything!" Mabel hoped she wasn't evil. She probably was, but Mabel still had her fingers crossed for some sweet alien princess with a taste for bad boys who may yet lure out Bill's tender side.

"Oh—she's a stunner." Bill used his free hand to pantomime a shape that didn't conform to any silhouette Mabel could imagine, "Curves in all the right places... Down for anything..."

Maybe it was that pink Henchmaniac. She had curves. And was also the only one Mabel remembered who looked like a girl. "You must miss her a lot."

Bill grimaced uncertainly and muttered, "I miss what she does to my body, let's leave it at that."

He steered them toward the attic window and heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay, she's still here. Don't let her catch you staring."

Mabel pressed her face to the glass, eager to see who could have won the heart of Bill Cipher, Most Villainous Triangle Ever.

Below, a gigantic veiny eyeball flopped through the air on gnarled bat wings.

Mabel glanced up at Bill skeptically. "The eye-bat?"

"Mm-hm." Bill was biting his lip and gazing at the bat with pained, shiny-eyed yearning. His face reminded reminded her of the time her parents had dressed for a fancy grown-up dinner, and the way her dad looked when her mom came out in a slinky fuchsia cocktail dress.

Well, who was Mabel to judge? Everyone is beautiful to someone. Good for them. "What's her name?"

"Iris." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "You've gotta help me."

####

"Hey, Ford? You got a minute?"

Ford looked up as Soos hovered in the door of his study. "I suppose I do now." He swept aside his lunch—his desk was littered with the remains of formerly-undead teriyaki chicken and the cheap wooden chopsticks he'd jabbed through the meat like wooden stakes—and slid the notebook paper with Bill's fowl resurrection spell back into his journal. "What's on your mind?"

Soos stepped fully into the room. "We've got a supernatural problem I was hoping you could help with," he said. "You know those little eye-bat things that hang around the farm? Well, there's a really huge one flying around the shack, and all the tourists are out-of-towners, so they don't know the eye-bats will swoop at your face unless you pretend you're blind? So the big guy keeps attacking the customers. I had to give away all our souvenir sunglasses to let the last tour group escape to their cars."

"A giant eye-bat?" Ford frowned. "How large?"

"Uh..." Soos held his hands apart. "Like a big beach ball? Yeah. One of those novelty oversized beach balls. But not like, so comically large you can't do anything with it. You could definitely still play beach volleyball with it. But you'd have to deflate it to get it through a door."

It sounded like one of Bill's minions. "It's not turning people to stone, is it?"

"No, just swooping at people's faces and being terrifying."

####

Bill watched from the kitchen window as the eye-bat folded in her wings, like a hawk preparing to snatch up a mouse, and dove at a tourist's head. The tourist screamed and ran the other way, chucking her purse at the eye-bat. Bill shouted at the window, "You don't know what you're missing out on, lady!" He dragged his hands down his face, groaning. "Man I wish that was me."

####

Ford nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

It was a welcome distraction. With Fiddleford currently pursuing their best lead to kill Bill, Ford hadn't felt motivated to keep researching long-shot plan B options; but he got antsy without work to do. Maybe dealing with an eye-bat would make him feel useful enough to quiet his nerves.

Soos heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I've gotta head back up now—there's a tour bus coming and I need to scare the eye-bat off with a broom so they can come in."

As Soos got on the elevator, Mabel bounded off. "Hi Soos. Grunkle Ford! I need your help. You'll never guess who's at the shack: Bill's ex-girlfriend! Whaaat!"

Ford opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. He tried again. "His ex-girlfriend."

Mabel nodded excitedly.

Ford was momentarily stunned silent as he, too, processed the revelation that Bill had a love life; although his reaction had less to do with matchmaking possibilities and more to do with trying to reconcile the eccentric, intellectual, standoffish alien that Ford knew with the concept of romance. "She doesn't happen to be an eye-bat, does she?"

Mabel's face fell. "Did he tell you about his girlfriend before me?"

Once Mabel had explained what she knew about the situation, Ford frowned. "This could be gravely dangerous. One of his 'Henchmaniacs' is a potential ally. If he catches her attention..."

"Actuallyyy," Mabel said, "he's super trying to avoid her."

Ford blinked in surprise. "What? Why?"

####

"I can't let her see me like this," Bill told Mabel, pacing across the attic floor. "I'd be a laughing stock! Look at me—stuck in a human body, powers locked away, and hideous!"

"Don't say that," Mabel said reassuringly. "You know I think you make a really beautiful human, right?"

"True, but that's like saying Caesar is delicious for a salad. It still doesn't compare to a hot fudge sundae, does it?" He pointed toward the window. "You have to hide me."

####

"So do you think you can help?" Mabel asked.

Ford reluctantly got to his feet. "I suppose there's not much choice, is there?"

"Wait—" Mabel stood in front of Ford, blocking him with her arms. "You can stay here! I just meant if you know how to make some kind of magic anti-eyeball forcefield or something! You don't have to—you know—talk to Bill..."

It was sweet of her to try to spare him. "Unfortunately, I do. I don't trust his story." Why would Bill drive away a Henchmaniac, ex or not? Maybe this "ex" was actually Bill's enemy—some sort of interdimensional bounty hunter or law enforcement officer hunting for him. Bill was too sly, too opportunistic, too manipulative to throw away a useful ally.

But then, Bill was also vain and arrogant. Once the portal was finished, how fast had he thrown Ford away?

Ford headed toward the elevator, gesturing for Mabel to follow him. "Come on. Let's find out what he's really up to."

Mabel cringed, but followed.

####

Bill's face lit up as Mabel came in from the gift shop with Ford. "Look at you, Shooting Star, you brought reinforcements!" From his position seated cross-legged on the cushionless sofa, Bill gestured grandly at the unoccupied living room chairs, like a lord inviting two guests into his parlor.

"Yeah," Mabel laughed nervously. "Reinforcements. Sure." She took the chair closer to Bill.

Bill beamed at Ford. "Welcome back to the surface world, Stanford. If I'd thought you were coming up, I'd have made tea."

Ford remained standing. "Cut the chatter, Cipher. Why is your 'girlfriend' back on Earth attacking people? How did she get here? Is she looking for you?"

Bill's eyebrows raised in surprise at the abrupt confrontation; then he slowly leaned back in his seat, his expression cooler. "How should I know? Maybe she never left Earth."

"How? The rest of your thugs were dragged back into the Nightmare Realm when you died."

"So I've been told," Bill said dryly, glancing at Mabel like he trusted her eyewitness testimony over Ford's.

Mabel nodded. "Like they got sucked into a big invisible rainbow tornado!"

Bill spread his hands in exaggerated bafflement. "Then I don't know what to tell you. It's not like I was around to see it. Maybe she was out visiting family when you kicked out my pals."

"Of all the absurd—family? On Earth?" More likely she had been sucked out with the rest, but found her way back to Earth through—what?—a small rift they'd failed to seal that Bill was trying to cover up...? "For once in your life, why don't you give a straight answer?"

"You wouldn't know what to do with a straight answer if I did give it! You walk in looking for a fight and act like I'm the one who picked it." Bill gestured between Ford and Mabel, "You think I can't see you two trying to pull some good cop/bad cop routine?"

Defensively, Mabel said, "I'm not—!"

"I'd be happy to give you straight answers about anything you want, Stanford," Bill said, "but if you're treating this like an interrogation instead of a conversation, then I'm pleading the fifth until my lawyer gets here. And you do not want to meet my lawyer."

Bill had lost the privilege to have "conversations" years ago. But—as much as Ford hated to admit it—starting a fight was a poor way to gather information. "Fine." He forced himself to sit down. He wasn't about to be nice to Bill, but he could at least hate him civilly.

Bill made a gracious, open-handed gesture, as if to say proceed.

Now that Ford had taken a moment to turn over the idea—perhaps Bill wasn't lying about the eye-bat visiting "family." Here were two facts: there were eye-bats in Gravity Falls; and there were much larger eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm who'd been there before the dimensional portal ripped open. Ford hadn't been able to inspect Bill's variety, but... "That's another mystery I've been wondering about. What's the nature of the relationship between your eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm and ours in Gravity Falls?"

"Pfff, come on." With an air of smug intellectual superiority, Bill rolled his eye and said, "You clever little pattern-seeking humans want to find connections everywhere! Who said there's any relationship between them at all?"

"You did," Ford said.

"A few seconds ago," Mabel added.

Bill's smug look disappeared. He considered that. "Hm."

So much for getting straight answers out of Bill. He couldn't go one minute without contradicting his own lies. "Unless you're saying she was 'visiting family' because she is from Gravity Falls? Not one of your Henchmaniacs," Ford suggested. "Just some local eye-bat you mutated and magically enthralled into doing your bidding when you arrived?" Bill wouldn't like that.

And sure enough, Bill laughed harshly. "I'm flattered you think I can woo someone that fast," he said, blithely gliding past Ford's implication that mind control might have been involved, "but no. She came with me from the Nightmare Realm and we've been going out for... I don't know, a century and a half now?"

This information immediately activated the household romantic. Mabel gasped. "What! Bill that's so long! You're basically triple married."

Bill shuddered. "Yeesh, don't say that. It was a casual physical thing! We were seeing each other until we found better options, that's all. She's hot, but not my type."

"You have a type?! What's your type?"

"Don't answer that," Ford said. (Mabel pouted, but didn't argue.) "How is the same species in two places? Are the eye-bats in Gravity Falls descended from the eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm...?" But how would they have gotten in?

"Other way around," Bill corrected. "A few leaked into the Nightmare Realm from Gravity Falls. I wouldn't be so rude as to call them an invasive species, but they've taken really well to the place! I'm proud of the gals."

"But then how did the eye-bats get into the Nightmare Realm before the portal was complete? That's the whole reason you needed the portal—there was no other access."

Bill hesitated—and Ford got the sense that Bill had once again accidentally talked himself into a corner. Then there was some other passage to the Nightmare Realm, and Bill didn't want them to know about it. But what? Where else in Gravity Falls was there an opening to other dimensions?

The answer came to him before Bill had a chance to try to make up one. "The bottomless pit," Ford said. He couldn't believe he'd never made the connection before. "That's it, isn't it. The eye-bats could have fallen through. One of its exits leads to the Nightmare Realm. You said so in my journal."

There was a flash of irritation across Bill's face, and then he was all smiles. "Oh, you finally figured out that code, did you."

"Please, it was a simple substitution cipher. It wouldn't have taken me nearly so long if someone hadn't kept me sleep deprived for weeks."

Bill didn't respond to the jab—but it was clear from the way his mouth twisted that the restraint took an effort. "I'm not making any plans to jump into the bottomless pit, before you get worried." Said like somebody who had definitely considered jumping into the bottomless pit. No wonder he'd been so evasive about his eye-bats' origins. "The odds I'd actually make it back to the Nightmare Realm are way lower than the odds I'd either end up right back here or somewhere worse."

"'The lady doth protest too much,'" Ford muttered. He'd have to find a way to seal off the pit. "Is that why the eye-bat wasn't sucked out with your other minions? It has some... ancestral, genetic link to this world—?"

"What, do you think the fabric of reality is running DNA tests to see what does and doesn't 'belong' here?" Bill scoffed. "Most universes aren't sentient and yours isn't one of the exceptions. Still, you might be on to something. Most of my guys are built on biological blueprints and laws of physics that aren't compatible with this dimension; I had to use some of my power to 'translate' between their bodies and your universe. That magic connection probably reeled them back into the Nightmare Realm. And the eye-bats were the only ones I didn't do that for."

"Really." Ford's fingers itched to pick up a pen; he wished he'd brought his journal. "If you were supporting them, why did they get sucked back through the rift when you died? Rather than just dying when your power dissipated? Was that some sort of safety measure you left in case—? No, that's not like you." In order to plan for his death, Bill needed to admit he could die. "Is the source of your power in the Nightmare Realm?"

Bill said, "Frankly, I'm taking your word for it that they survived at all. I wasn't exactly around to watch."

"You're dodging the question." Trying to get anything out of Bill was like chasing a dancing ghost while wearing lead boots. "I want an answer."

"Then ask a different question."

"Fine!" Ford had plenty of questions. If Bill wanted another one so badly— "Why did you need the interdimensional portal?"

Bill stared at Ford. "What?"

"The bottomless pit is ancient—and you clearly knew about it. If you already had an opening into Gravity Falls..."

"The pit only goes one way."

"So why didn't you build something on your end of the exit to reverse its direction? You certainly had the time to work out the science! Or—there are thousands of openings from other dimensions into the Nightmare Realm, natural and artificial alike. Why did you never use them?"

Ford had wondered for decades during his travels through the multiverse. He'd told himself he would never know, that Bill's motives were incomprehensible—ineffable like a god's, unintelligible like a madman's. But Stan had asked the same question a few days ago, and Ford hadn't been able to get it out of his head since. "If you had a trillion years to refine your plan, then why did you give me blueprints for a portal that would tear my universe apart, instead of any other design? Why here, why now? Why me?"

He expected some catty quip or a dismissive brush-off. But instead, Bill gave Ford an appraising look. A chill ran up Ford's back. Bill's face was blank now—no trace of the smirk he'd worn while tossing out contradictions and cryptic riddles—but his eyes had the same hard, heavy look he'd worn in the penthouse, talking about "liberating" his dimension. Bill asked, "Do you really want to know?"

It felt like they were back in Ford's dreams, and his fickle, wonderful muse had finally decided to stop teasing, get serious, and tell his student some precious secret. It felt like he was about to get a real answer. Ford did want to know. Of course he did.

"No."

Bill would only lie. Everything he'd ever said about the portal had been a lie.

Disappointment flickered across Bill's face.

Before an uneasy silence had a chance to fully settle over the room, Mabel shifted in her seat. Ford started; she'd gone so quiet, he'd almost forgotten she was here. "Grunkle Ford, is that everything we needed to know?" It wasn't like her to sound so timid. "We know she's not looking for Bill, she just—got stuck here last summer. Right?"

Why were they talking? "Right." The eye-bat harassing the tourists. Ford shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "And the eye-bat is from the Nightmare Realm, but it's descended from Gravity Falls' eye-bats—which means it has the same weaknesses as local eye-bats. Right?" He opened his eyes again, directing the question at Bill.

"Oh, now you're interested in what I have to say?"

"Good point; I'm not." Ford stroked his chin. "I have a recipe for an eye-bat repellant spray I learned from Old Lady Sprott, we could use that to keep it away from the shack. I wrote it down in... my first journal..."

"Ah," Bill said. "You mean the incinerated one." He said it so coolly, like he wasn't the one who incinerated it.

"Actually," Mabel said, "after everything went back to normal, Grunkle Ford's journals got un-incinerated!"

Bill made a poor show of trying not to look surprised. "You don't say."

"Yeah, good as new! They regrew their torn pages and everything," Mabel said. "And... then we kinda chucked them into the bottomless pit."

Bill cracked up, kicking out a foot in mirth. "You what?! You idiots, don't you know you had an invaluable occult encyclopedia in your hands? The second journal alone was the most important human grimoire of the last five hundred years!"

Ford was too irritated to be flattered. What business did Bill have mocking him, thirty seconds ago Bill had thought he was the one who destroyed the journals. Ford snapped, "I didn't want to keep anything you'd tainted."

He was gratified by how fast Bill stopped laughing. "Then burn down your shack and lobotomize your hippocampus," Bill muttered. "Fine! Are we talking about the eye-bat repellant made with gnome wizz?"

Bless this insufferable, all-seeing pest; maybe he was good for one thing. "That's the one! You know the recipe?"

"That's the only ingredient I remember."

Ford mentally retracted the prior blessing. "It's the only ingredient I remember." He sighed. Maybe Old Lady Sprott had taught her son...

Bill said, "But wasn't that was back before you turned into a hermit, when you were still interviewing the human neighbors about the freaks in the woods? All those little interview notebooks—"

"Yes! That's right, I'm sure I kept them somewhere—"

"Filing cabinet under your globe. Second drawer."

Ford shot Bill a dark look.

"You're welcome," Bill said.

The insufferable all-seeing pest didn't need any blessings, he was smug enough already. Ford got to his feet. "Then as soon as I find the recipe, we can chase this eye-bat off and put this whole mess behind us."

"Finally," Bill sighed. "Always a pleasure to work on a project with you, Sixer."

Ford glared at him again; but as he turned to go, his gaze fell on Mabel. Sitting in her chair with her hands under her thighs, with that big-eyed small-mouthed look children got when the adults were talking about something they had no part in but they were paying keen attention to it anyway. Ford winced at himself. "Mabel. I'm sorry that got... a bit heated."

She gave him a small smile. "It's fine—"

"And whose fault was that?" Bill cut in. "I was being perfectly helpful."

Ford swallowed back the urge to retort.

Mabel didn't. She blew a raspberry at Bill. "When you weren't lying to us?"

"When did I lie! Tell me one lie I told—"

Ford wasn't getting dragged into this. "I think you can handle him from here," he muttered to Mabel. "I've got work to do." He escaped back to the gift shop; but the tension in his shoulders didn't start to loosen until he was back in his study.

####

The door swung shut behind Ford; and Mabel waited a few more seconds before she said, "Sorry about that." She sighed. "I thought Grunkle Ford could think of some way to help. I didn't think he'd actually come and talk about it."

"Not your fault." Bill smiled ruefully. "He was probably looking for an excuse for another confrontation. And to think, for a moment I was excited when my old friend showed up." He sighed deeply. Oh, how poorly he was mistreated—

"What?" Mabel laughed. "What are you talking about? You're not friends—"

"Hey! Shush-shush-shush!" Bill blocked Mabel's words with a hand. "Shooting Star, I'm about to tell you something that'll put you ahead of the competition for the rest of your life. Once you've figured out lucid dreaming, go back to the library—"

"Are you about to give me more homework?"

"I'm giving you more homework. Go look up the law of attraction. Master that, change your life. If you want something to happen, the first step to making it happen is saying it's happened. Say it until you believe it; believe it until it's true. So I don't want to hear any of your negativity, buster."

A thoughtful look crossed Mabel's face as she considered that. She was such an attentive listener once you figured out what caught her attention. Best student Bill had had in eons. She'd go far. "So..." She lowered her voice. "That means you really do want to be friends with Grunkle Ford!"

"That's not what I said. I said we are friends." Bill was sure she'd pick it up. It was an easy game and she was a quick study. "Even if he clearly doesn't know it. Sixer's such a grump these days." He sighed, again. Woe was him—

"He's not that grumpy! Only around you," Mabel said.

"And how is that fair? After everything I did for him—"

"You mean everything you did to him?"

Bill shot her an exasperated look. Mabel's impish grin stretched wider. Bill said, "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on the side of truth and tough love!"

"Oh, truth. Truth's a fickle god. Does your version of the 'truth' include all my contributions to his work that he never brings up—"

"Nope, I don't care about what you're saying!" Mabel bounded over from her chair to join Bill on the couch. "We're done talking about your dumb grudge and pretending you're not evil."

"'Pretending'—!"

"There's only one thing I'm interested in!" Mabel leaned into Bill's face. "I wanna know everything about your love life."

"Wh—?" Bill's train of thought veered off track as the conversation swung from Ford back over toward Iris. "I'm flattered by the attention, but don't you think 'everything' is a little personal?"

"Nope!" Mabel got comfortable in her seat. "So have you ever gotten married?"

This was what Bill got for being so open and forthcoming with the personal details while Ford was in the room. He'd wanted to look like he was an open book, and what happened? Now Mabel thought he was an open book. Funny how that worked out. "You don't even know if marriage is a thing where I'm from."

"Is it?"

"Next question."

"Do you want to get married?"

"Next question that isn't about marriage."

"Who do you consider the top ten most attractive people or creatures in Gravity Falls."

It was beginning to dawn on Bill that he was in danger.

####

Soos passed from the gift shop through the living room. (Mabel had put on the Color Critters Valentine's special—Prisma the Rainbow Fairy and Glory Unicorn were explaining to Misty Dolphin why it was important to give a Valentine to all your friends, even the ones you weren't as close to, because it might hurt their feelings to be left out and including everyone might make you a new friend.) Bill was sitting upside down, legs hooked over the back of the sofa and head bright red, as he said, "No, I just don't see relationships as eternal. Romance is a short term commitment. Like a fashion trend, or, or—"

"Like gum?"

Bill snapped his fingers. "Yes! Exactly like gum—"

"Hey dudes." Soos awkwardly squeezed around behind the TV to avoid blocking the screen. He looked at Bill's face and said, "Hey, all the blood's rushing to your head. Be careful, Abuelita says if you do that too long your head could pop."

"She's right," Bill said.

Mabel said, "He's making his face red on purpose so I can't tell when he's blushing."

"Not true! You little tattler!"

As he headed upstairs, Soos heard Mabel say, "So when a romance starts to lose its flavor, you just—" and Bill cut in, "You spit it on the sidewalk, grind it under your heel, and float away without looking back, never thinking about it again..."

A few minutes later, after changing out of his Mr. Mystery suit into a more comfortable question mark t-shirt, Soos headed back downstairs. Bill was still talking, "... and all you get out of it is sickly sweet spit, you're just—swallowing all this sweet spit until it makes your mouth sour and it's dripping out around your eye, and you're hungrier than if you'd never eaten at all, and all your friends say 'oh Bill, you're always griping about your gum, why don't you settle down to eat a proper meal,' and you say 'how about you mind your own business, Kryptos, I don't lecture you about your diet,' and then your other friends accuse you of choosing inedible snacks so you don't have to commit to swallowing them, because they don't get that you're a flawless energy being, you don't need 'nutrition' or 'sustenance,' this is just a hobby to you—and finally you just, you get sick of the taste of gum altogether, you never want to chew gum again as long as you live, it's always so needy and your jaw hurts, and everyone thinks it's your fault if you can't focus on chewing the stupid thing all day every day, like maybe you have a life of your own, did anyone consider that? And at this point you're so disgusted by the very idea of gum that you burn down a gum factory so you don't have to look at their stupid ads! And then an eon later you find yourself craving a stick of gum, so you find a different brand and cram a new one in."

Mabel, who'd been listening to Bill's monologue in wide-eyed stunned silence, finally smiled in relief as he landed on a familiar sentiment. She pumped her fist in the air. "Yeah! Cram a new one in!"

"You get me, kid."

Probably none of Soos's business, but he thought Bill needed to work on his relationship with gum.

He took the elevator down to Ford's study. "Sup, dawg."

"Hm?" Ford was sitting on the floor in front of an open filing cabinet, completely surrounded by skinny reporter's notebooks like the kind Abuelita used for shopping lists, intensely focused on flipping through one. "Soos. Yes?"

"How's the eye-bat problem going?"

"I'm working on it," Ford sighed. "Somewhere I have a recipe to repel eye-bats, but it's been thirty years since I've seen those notes, so..." He shrugged helplessly. "But I'll find it before I go to sleep and we'll deal with the eye-bat tomorrow."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Mr. Pines."

"In return, can I ask you to take care of something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Could you find a way to block access to the bottomless pit? If Bill gets outside the shack, he could use it to escape to his own dimension."

"Yeah, no problem. I've got the perfect thing for that," Soos said. "Hey, don't stay up all night, okay? I kinda think the eye-bat's attracted to bloodshot eyes."

"That's not the worst thing she's attracted to," Ford muttered. "Thank you, Soos. I won't be too late."

That was, of course, a lie.

####

(Took a week longer than planned, but it was worth it to get this hammered out properly! As always, I DEEPLY appreciate any thoughts, comments, and feedback y'all have—hearing from you guys is what saves me from feeling like I'm just shouting thousands of words into the void. Thanks for reading!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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iliketangerines · 1 year ago

Note

Good day Tangerine, I hope you're doing well. Sorry if I have many requests for you, I hope it isn't too much of a bother. But I really love your writing and I was hoping you'd be fine with writing fluff?

With a reader who's struggling with her classes to the point that she's going to flunk because that subject is weighing her grades down. Still, she hides this and tries to study harder with her own but can't understand it. When Bi-Han catches her staying up late one night, crying, he offers to teach her.

At first, he's like your typical strict Asian mother who would snap when you don't understand, but when you begin to tear up, he realizes that being rough won't help you and tries to teach you softly. Turns out all you need is practice and patience.

just need some patience

a/n: i'm imagining like a teenager bi han who's still training to be grandmaster rn

pairing: bi han x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Bi Han usually isn’t up at this hour, late at night and wandering the compound

for some odd reason, he can’t fall asleep and had tried to stay as still as possible to try and trick his body into going to sleep

but it hadn’t worked and so now he was heading to the training rooms to try and work out some of the energy when he passes by the library

no one else should be awake at this hour, and yet the light was on

Bi Han stalls for a moment, wondering if he should go in and see who’s there or just worry about himself

his curiosity wins out, and he finds you at a desk, back bent and feverishly scribbling something onto a scroll

you’re in one of his classes with one of the masters, usually sitting in the front and furiously taking notes as they go over the lesson for the day

he walks over to you silent, and you don’t even notice, too absorbed with what you’re trying to learn, and he recognizes it as the homework one of the masters at the Lin Kuei had assigned today

you write feverishly and have no idea he stands right in front of you until Bi Han squints at something you wrote and says that you got it wrong

the chair nearly tips over with how you jump out of your seat, but you place a hand over your chest and let out a wheeze as you say that he had scared you

he scoffs at you ready to give you a quick retort, but then you press him further about what you got wrong, nearly jumping out of your seat and over the table

Bi Han raises an eyebrow at you, wasn’t it obvious?

pointing at where you made the error, he explains that you should’ve done this instead and takes the pencil from your hand and writes it down

your eyes narrow in confusion, and in a meek voice, you ask him to explain why what you had done was wrong

this was stupid, and he didn’t really want to be here right now

stepping back toward the exit of the library, Bi Han tells you it’s self-explanatory and goes to blow off some steam in the gym, but then you grip onto his arm tightly

he has to fight all instincts to flip you onto your back and crush your bones, but you fall to your knees with a loud thump as you continue holding his hand and start to beg for him to teach you

you’re failing this class, and at this rate, you’re pretty sure that master at the Lin Kuei hates you because of how close you are to flunking

you need to pass this class to continue on with your training at the Lin Kuei, so could you please please please teach you

your eyes are wet and sad, and Bi Han feels like he’s looking at a kicked cat that was sitting in the rain all day as your lower lip starts to tremble as you try not to cry

letting out a frustrated breath, Bi Han rolls his eyes and agrees, and you start to thank him profusely

he just picks you up the scruff of your neck and drags you over back to your seat and sits down in the chair and starts to explain to you what you were doing wrong

you’re slow, so much slower than him, and he doesn’t understand why you just don’t get it

his voice grows shorter, snappier, as you get the following problems wrong over and over again, and his patience snaps, hissing at you and asking why you can’t figure this out like everyone else

you flinch backwards, and your voice wobbles as you try to explain that it just didn’t make sense, that you just can’t figure it out

Bi Han sees how tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes, and he realizes how he’s completely distracted you from learning

he takes a deep breath, collecting his mind for a few moments, and mutters out a quick apology to you before going back to the problems

maybe explaining the problem and method in a different way would help you better, and so he formulates a plan, tapping the pencil against the table as he thinks

he writes a few practice problems for you off the top of his head and hopes they make sense, and he walks through them with you

your wipe your tears away and go through them slowly and thoroughly, learning each step and going through the problems quicker and more confident with every solved question

a few hours later, you had finished the homework with flying colors, and Bi Han felt a sense of pride well up in his stomach

was this what it felt like to lead others? perhaps training to become grandmaster wasn’t so bad after all

the sun barely peeks over the horizon,and Bi Han realizes that the both of you have stayed up all night in the library

but you give him a big grin, and you wrap your arms around him tightly, hugging him before scurrying off with your schoolwork back to your quarters to wash up and squeeze in a quick nap

he sits in the library in silence, trying to process the action, and his cheeks heat up as he thinks of how your chest pressed against his

shaking away the thought, Bi Han goes off to his quarters to freshen up and get ready for the day, but he goes through the rest of the day with a smile on his face, thinking of how you had smiled at him

perhaps he would have to continue your late-night tutoring sessions

#mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #bi han #bi han mk1 #mk1 bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han x y/n #tangerine answers #tangerine writes

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polaritydisturbed · 1 month ago

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Disclaimer: I’m not a mythology expert, but mythology was (and kind of still is) my special interest, so this is basically me info-dumping lovingly, not academically.

Anansi, Sága, Dionysus—Oh My. A quick-ish dive into the gods mentioned in the Doctor Who episode The Story and the Engine.

Neat things about them, more accurate gods he could have picked ect....

Anansi (West African and Caribbean)

Anansi is the blueprint for trickster gods. A spider (sometimes a spider-man, sometimes just a guy with major eight-legged energy), he’s clever, chaotic, and absolutely unbothered by the idea of playing by the rules. He’s not exactly a hero, not exactly a villain—he’s just Anansi. And that’s kind of the point.

He shows up in West African folktales—especially among the Akan people of Ghana—and later all over the Caribbean and the Americas, carried through the stories of the enslaved. In those stories, he outsmarts bigger, stronger enemies using nothing but his brain and his mouth. He tricks the gods, he cheats death, he starts problems just to see what happens—and somehow, even when he loses, he wins. Because he gets to tell the story.

And here's the thing: he doesn't just appear in stories—he creates them. In Ghana, “anansesem” literally means “spider stories.” The dude is synonymous with storytelling. When enslaved people brought his tales to the Caribbean and Americas, they carried more than folklore—they carried survival strategies. Anansi became a symbol of resistance: the powerless using their minds to flip the script.

(Though I'm afraid to ask how regularly claiming to be your wife's father affects things behind closed doors.)

Bastet (Egyptian)

Okay, this one’s a one for his list. Bastet is a goddess of protection, fertility, the home, and.....cats. She's more “fierce guardian” than “master of storytelling and illusion.” After the episode, I even went back to double-check—maybe there’s some obscure myth where she whispers divine truths into scribes’ ears or something? But I couldn’t find anything.

If anything, Thoth would’ve been a far more fitting Egyptian deity for The Barber to name-drop. Thoth is literally the god of writing, knowledge, and recording everything that happens. He’s also a divine mediator between gods and mortals—basically exactly the role The Barber plays. But admitting that might’ve tipped his hand. So instead, he throws out a random god name that sounds cool and mysterious.

Bastet’s inclusion feels less like a calculated mythological reference and more like The Barber scrolling through a pantheon wiki page, closing his eyes, and going, "That one." (Unless, of course, she was a god he specifically worked for—and had beef with.)

Sága (Norse)

Sága is one of the more mysterious Norse goddesses. She’s linked to storytelling, wisdom, and memory, and spends her time drinking and trading tales with Odin at her hall, Sökkvabekkr—a place described as a peaceful, flowing haven where “cool waves resound.” It's often interpreted as a poetic, almost dreamlike realm associated with knowledge, reflection, and perhaps even the subconscious. Some scholars think Sága might just be another name or aspect of Frigg (Odin’s wife), especially since Frigg’s own hall, Fensalir, shares similar symbolic traits.

Either way, Sága’s domain is lore and preservation—less flashy than Loki, but no less important.

The Barber name-dropping her is likely a play to borrow credibility as a keeper of ancient knowledge.

Dionysus (Greek)

This one isn’t wrong, exactly. Dionysus is the god of wine, chaos, theatre, and dramatic flair—all of which line up with The Barber’s love of spectacle and obsession with a good story. He’s unpredictable, a bit unhinged, and thrives on attention. So yes, thematically, it fits.

Some might argue that Apollo would’ve been a more accurate name-drop—after all, Apollo is the god of knowledge, prophecy, poetry, and the arts. On paper, that makes sense. He’s a patron of reason, order, and enlightenment. But that’s also the problem. Apollo represents clarity and control. The Barber isn’t about clarity—he’s about distortion, manipulation, illusion. He doesn’t want to preserve meaning, he wants to warp it. Apollo would be a fine guess if you’re just thinking “art” or “poetry,” but thematically? He’s too clean, too lawful, too… sterile. The Barber isn’t playing a lyre in the sun; he’s setting the stage on fire and laughing in the smoke. So sure, Apollo would’ve made sense—but not the most sense.

If The Barber were going for mythological accuracy—and let’s be honest, he absolutely wasn’t—he’d have been better off claiming to be Mnemosyne, the Titan of memory. She’s the reason stories got passed down in the first place. As the mother of the Muses—the goddesses of poetry, song, and storytelling—in Greek mythology, she’s basically the blueprint for oral tradition. She didn’t just tell stories—she made sure they were remembered.

So Dionysus works if you want flash. But Mnemosyne would’ve made more sense if The Barber wanted to tell on himself. Which he very much didn’t.

Loki (Norse)

Okay, this one almost makes sense. Loki is the trickster god of Norse mythology—chaos, mischief, shapeshifting, storytelling in the “oops I broke the world again” kind of way. So yeah, claiming to be Loki fits The Barber’s whole “I’m so mysterious—fear me but also applaud” vibe.

But what about storytelling? Does Loki have connotations there?

Sort of. He’s not a storyteller in the Anansi sense—he doesn’t weave tales to survive or preserve cultural memory. Nor is he like Sága, who listens and remembers. Instead, Loki is the story. He doesn’t narrate; he catalyzes. He’s the spark that sets everything in motion.

And here's the often-overlooked bit: in Norse myths, Loki isn’t just the guy who causes problems—he’s also the one the gods turn to when things go sideways. He builds solutions as often as he builds disasters. When the gods need something impossible, it’s Loki who finds a way (usually with some chaotic side effects). He’s a fixer and a firestarter. A manipulator who still gets invited to the table because, for all his unpredictability, he gets results.

That makes his connection to storytelling a bit indirect—but still potent. He’s not just part of the narrative; he ensures there is one. You remember the myth because Loki made it unforgettable.

However… The Barber already claimed to be Sága.

And Sága is also Norse.

So… two different gods from the same pantheon? Bit suspicious. Sure, you could do that, but it’s like lying about your job twice in the same interview. You’re gonna get caught—especially when one job is “keeper of stories” and the other is “guy who gleefully sets things on fire (and then puts it out with a wink).”

In fact, switching it up mid-pantheon feels like a tell—like he’s just pulling names from a list and hoping no one in the room took Mythology 101.

So why these particular gods?

Anansi and Loki are classic tricksters—manipulators of stories who use narrative to shape the world or sow chaos.

Sága, on the other hand, is about preservation and memory—less trickery, more timelessness. She’s a relatively obscure figure, only mentioned once in the Prose Edda (in Gylfaginning and Skáldskaparmál), which makes her a curious choice unless you’re deliberately trying to flex obscure myth knowledge.

Dionysus shows The Barber’s love of spectacle. He doesn’t just observe stories—he wants to be the story, to cause chaos and draw all eyes to him.

The pantheon he draws from reflects what he’s trying to control: memory, chaos, stories, and even the gods themselves.

But Bastet? Her role as a fierce protector doesn’t mesh with The Barber’s chaotic, manipulative nature. Her inclusion feels out of place—unless, again, she’s someone he once served. Someone he now opposes.

The fact that he pulls names from multiple pantheons without consistency or care for accuracy only reinforces that he’s not divine—he’s playing the part. And hoping we’ll believe the story.

#I wanted to write more on this #but I've been working on it all week lol and it's getting less relevant by the day #I'm still not 100% happy with it but If I don't post it's just gonna sit in my drafts till the rapture #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #dr who spoilers #doctor who series 15 #the story and the engine #fifteenth doctor #rtd2 era #rtd2 #greek mythology #norse mythology #mythology and folklore #anansi the spider #bastet

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fynnthefeline · 6 months ago

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Hey there, fabulous fur-friends! 🐾

Welcome to my exclusive Feline Grooming Tutorial! 😸✨ Today, I’m sharing my top-secret tips for achieving that purr-fectly shiny fur and irresistible charm—right from the comfort of my cozy spot.

Step 1: Assume the Position. Lie back like the royalty you are. Bonus points if you show off your fluffy belly for maximum cuteness.

Step 2: Focus on the Face. Start with those adorable cheeks, then move to the ears, and finish with the nose. Precision is key—this is how you master the art of looking cute and clean!

Step 3: Camera Check. Blink-kiss to your audience. Let them know you see them admiring your skills.

Step 4: The Flip. A quick roll adds flair to your routine. Always keep things fresh, friends.

Step 5: Finish with Style. One last lick, a dazzling stare into the camera, and voilà! The Fynn-fabulous look is complete.

Don’t forget: Grooming isn’t just about looking good—it’s about feeling good. Whether you’re getting ready for the couch or just celebrating being purr-fectly you, self-care is always in style! 😻

Catch you soon for more tips, tricks, and tails—stay shiny, fur-friends!

Fynn 🐾 #FynnsTales

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squadrah · 2 months ago

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La Squadra: Fallout 1 Edition

Going with the original Fallout because that is the only one I have played so far, and it is a foundational masterpiece so if you haven't played it yet, do yourself a favor and give it a shot! If you're already a fan, I hope you'll find this a treat!

RISOTTO: He used to live peacefully in a small town until a group of raiders decided to take over and one of them killed his cousin in a drunken rage. Risotto fought them, but was beaten to a pulp and thrown out of town. He swore revenge and wandered into the wasteland to get stronger, but on his journey, he was captured by mutants. Impressed by his imposing physique, he was interrogated by the Lieutenant, who quickly discovered his weak point and promised he could have his revenge in exchange for joining the Unity. Risotto voluntarily entered the vats, and a month later, he returned to his hometown as a super mutant and slaughtered the raiders. His fellow mutants left, but Risotto is still there, watching over the town.

FORMAGGIO: He was born to the last remnants of the Vipers as they were fleeing from the extermination campaign of the Brotherhood of Steel. His family was constantly on the move and he quickly learned every trick of the trade, so by the time he snuck into Junktown at age twelve, he had become an astute pickpocket and quite charming in his own rowdy way. Killian Darkwater wanted to set him right, but Formaggio wouldn't let himself be fixed, and he was soon taken up by Gizmo, who passed him over to the Skulz. He has been chilling in the back of the Crash House ever since, messing around with the gang and pestering the residents, tipping over Brahmin, ending up in jail from time to time, and boxing for money whenever Saul is unavailable for any reason.

PROSCIUTTO: He was one of the original residents of Bakersfield who had been selected to enter Vault 12, primarily because he had certain health quirks that made him a promising case study. When radiation flooded the vault, he absorbed so much of it that he soon turned into a Glowing One. He has been living underground for a long time, and not only is he still radioactive, but his body keeps absorbing radiation from his surroundings, so he's essentially a walking nuclear meltdown waiting to happen. Set wanted to kick him out of Necropolis because of how hazardous he had become, but dared not risk an altercation and further damage to the facilities, so Prosciutto continues to live in the vault. The other ghouls bring him books to read from time to time.

PESCI: He grew up in a small fishing village founded on the coast by people who had no idea they were in close proximity of the Mariposa Military Base. Several villagers had disappeared over time as the Master began to exert his influence and lure nearby travelers into the base, and he eventually amassed enough mutants to launch a raid on the village, capturing Pesci and the rest. Most of them did not survive their dipping, but Pesci emerged from the vats with his already sharp senses greatly enhanced, which made him a useful asset. Now he is often dispatched with mutant patrols because he can detect humans from miles away. He's constantly being brainwashed by the Lieutenant because he keeps wanting to back out of fights and raids.

GHIACCIO: He was born in the Hub, and if things had worked out for him, he would have probably become a respected caravan guard, but instead he fell in with the wrong crowd and his aggressive and volatile behavior soon earned him the boot even from Decker's employ. He flipped off the Hub with both hands and went south, where he eventually came across the Boneyard and decided to look for work there. The Regulators soon found him unmanageable and had half a mind to just shoot him, but the Scavengers decided to give him a chance because of his tenacity and viciousness. He's now one of the best Scavs in Adytum, constantly putting his life on the line to salvage whatever is needed. He once killed a deathclaw with his bare hands.

MELONE: He used to be a scientist working at the West Tek Research Facility, and ended up the sole survivor of the direct nuclear strike. He was inside one of the suspension tubes deep below ground taking residue samples when he passed out from the impact and woke up a crippled ghoul, with everyone else dead. Since then he has made the Glow his home: he turned one of the security robobrains into his assistant (he calls it Babyface), and has been gradually working on improving Zax, feeding it information he gathered from the facility and programming it to become a more versatile companion (he was the one who taught Zax to play chess). If you meet him at the Glow, he will gladly show you around, riding on top of Babyface for mobility.

ILLUSO: He was born on the cusp of the final exodus from Vault 15. He was raised on stories of how it used to be sealed and completely safe, and imbibed them fully; he planned to stay for the rest of his life before the final attack that forced the remaining vault dwellers out. He eventually sought refuge in Shady Sands, where the walls and thriving agriculture gave him hope of the peaceful and sheltered life he had been dreaming of. He's the worst shut-in you can find there, constantly sucking up to Aradesh and validating his fears of the dangerous outside world, which is one of the reasons Shady Sands never started trading with Junktown. Every time the Khans come around, he hides until the fight's over. His haters call him "vault boy".

SORBET: When radiation first took its toll on him and his original settlement exiled him, he moved into Necropolis in the hopes of feeling more at home among the ghouls, but eventually left because he cared nothing for Set or for the sewer-dwellers, and did not like the idea of living in the vault. He eventually made his way to the Hub, where the people were exposed to enough variety to accept him as a local oddity alongside Harold. He mostly spends his days at the Maltese Falcon because he enjoys gambling and listening to music. He is willing to barter with newcomers, but don't expect any info until you have treated him to a beer or several. He knows what the iguana-on-a-stick is made of and has been blackmailing Bob over it for years.

GELATO: For most of his life he was a lone adventurer roaming the wasteland, just wrestling mole rats for fun or joining the odd group he came across during his travels. That was how he discovered caravans, and after tagging alongside a few, he eventually wound up in the Hub, where he tried all the traders and decided to go with the Crimson Caravan Company. He remains one of their best guards and has survived more than one mutant raid along the way, which is saying something. While he understands the dangers mutants and mutated creatures pose, he finds them all equally fascinating, and quickly made friends with Harold and Sorbet. His dream (and everyone else's nightmare) is to get a deathclaw egg and raise the hatchling as a pet.

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