#Which is when I'm sick of looking at the dang thing

[tswwwit]

Cult Part 5! Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.

“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”

His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.

“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”

“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”

Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.

“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”

Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake. 

Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.

Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.

For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.

A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.

Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move. 

So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place. 

The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.

He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.  

Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’. 

Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor. 

But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.

Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.

Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends. 

The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching. 

Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode. 

And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.

He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision. 

He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.

Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.

As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”

All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”

It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.

Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.

“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”

A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious. 

Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.

And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary. 

Stopping him from talking is the hard part.

“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”

“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.

He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.

He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes. 

It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking. 

A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.

“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”

A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”

Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider. Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”

Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.

He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide. 

“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”

“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.

“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.” 

Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”

“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.

Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up.  “This one was…?”

“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”

A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new. 

Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.

Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.

Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?”

“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”

“The market for…?”

“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail. 

“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.

“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”

“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -

Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.

Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.

Special. 

Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.

Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.

“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”

Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how - 

“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide.  “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”

“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.

“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.” 

Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-

“How much of this is true?” He asks. 

If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.

“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”

An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.

“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”

“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”

Dipper glances at the screen. 

The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.

Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.

Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head. 

Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.

Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life. 

And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice. 

One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab. 

It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself… 

Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist. 

Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t. 

It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.

But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper. 

In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time. 

He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap. 

So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like… 

Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.

Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.

The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable. 

There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap. 

Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.

But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person. 

And while the setting’s  fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.

The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now. 

Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped  there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.

He’s even doing it right now. 

The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -  

Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.

Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path. 

He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…

Dipper speaks up.

“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”

“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”

No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track. 

“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”

“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”

“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”

“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”

“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”

Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..

It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to. 

It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.

Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone. 

But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges. 

“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!” 

That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but- 

Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.

“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.” 

A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank. 

Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you." 

He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.

But Bill doesn’t deny it. 

God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…

Holy shit. Dipper’s right. 

His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.  

But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead. 

“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”

“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”

Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride. 

Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.

“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”

Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful. 

There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show. 

He’s only focused on one person.

Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’. 

Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention - 

Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special? 

No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces. 

Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it. 

Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from. 

Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either. 

Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down

“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”

Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”

“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”

Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.

“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”

“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling. 

So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling. 

Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though. 

Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.

“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.

One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-

Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.

“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em  begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”

Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it. 

He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive. 

Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…

Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.

“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”

Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer. 

“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so- 

Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.

“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness. 

Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.

“Nope!” 

“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.

“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”

How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.

Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.

“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”

“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.

Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.

“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”

“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.

“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”

‘Fun stuff’. 

Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’. 

He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming. 

“Is that… so.”

“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”

“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually. 

Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance. 

He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue. 

Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat. 

“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”

“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.” 

Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch. 

Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead. 

What will he do? When he goes back?

He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…

He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was - 

Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid. 

And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.

Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.

“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”

“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”

“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.

For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.

Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise. 

In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there. 

“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing. 

Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment. 

And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.

Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet. 

“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”

Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?

Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning. 

Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.

Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off. 

And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it. 

The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered.  Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn. 

Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.

Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.

Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”

“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.

“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”

The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.

“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.

With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”

The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -

Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.

“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”

Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.

Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch. 

“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”

“Seems ‘uh’, what?” 

“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails. 

“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”

“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself. 

It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-

“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”

“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff. 

It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.

Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face. 

Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies. 

Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.

Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like. 

“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”

The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask. 

“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”

“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.” 

Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light. 

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.

God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -

Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.

“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest. 

The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat. 

“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him. 

“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.” 

Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.

“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”

“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”

“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide. 

“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.

Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted. 

Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off. 

“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.

Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”

Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.

Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura. 

He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm. 

Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that. 

He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.

The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it. 

Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.  

Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while. 

Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote. 

Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals. 

Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again. 

“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.

Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.

Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.  

Maybe he should replay it to check.

The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -

“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor. 

The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.

Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show. 

Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway. 

He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.

Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does. 

And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.

Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.

He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-

The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels. 

That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.

Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.

“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”

“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”

“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully. 

“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”

A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again. 

There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”

With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.

Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today. 

As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused. 

Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.

“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”

Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.

Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”

The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama. 

Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more. 

God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.

Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.

He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch. 

It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric. 

Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.

Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead. 

Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way. 

Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy. 

Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan. 

And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed. 

Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.

Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.

Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize

Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.

Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale.  Dipper can manage.

It’s just…

The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic. 

Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him. 

If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face - 

Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns. 

There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped. 

Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well.  It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.

But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.

The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it. 

Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob. 

The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.

The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away. 

Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’. 

Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.

If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.

Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot. 

This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on. 

Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses - 

Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.

Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger. 

For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.

“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”

Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.

Better get to work. 

Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust. 

There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.

Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not. 

Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse. 

Dipper figures it out in about two minutes. 

The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.

He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off. 

On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster. 

On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection. 

Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important. 

No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest. 

Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit. 

But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock. 

…It’s all about misdirection.

Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead. 

Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.

Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage. 

Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer. 

Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.

This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit. 

Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.

This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice. 

The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and - 

He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.

Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time. 

More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it. 

Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve. 

So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.

He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips. 

Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be. 

Is there… actually nothing here?

Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature. 

So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door. 

And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.

He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks. 

Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.

Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.

As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table. 

Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet. 

Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it. 

The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.

Sadly, there’s not much to look at. 

Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one. 

He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…

Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible. 

With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.

Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.

This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-

Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!

Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later. 

In his hands, there’s a picture frame.

Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.

A picture of Bill. What a surprise.

Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image. 

Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.

“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers. 

Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or - 

Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily. 

And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book. 

Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good. 

A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -

Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here. 

It’s just a picture of… Dipper.

And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down. 

For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable. 

Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Why is this stashed away?  It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.

Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.  

There wasn’t just one picture. 

With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.

“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.

Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself. 

How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…

Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room. 

Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup. 

“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.

So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.

Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-

A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.

Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about - 

No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.

Shit.

Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.

Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch. 

No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.

That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea. 

Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.

And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition. 

Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out. 

All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings. 

It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.

The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.

Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.

After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.

Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen. 

The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall? 

Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him. 

It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.

And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off.. 

Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly. 

He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide. The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder. 

Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -

Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing. 

The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.

Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow. 

At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.

Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.

Well. He’s intact. 

A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.

Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad. 

Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and - 

At Bill. 

A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.

Then he blinks. 

Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor. 

Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face.  It flickered through several before settling on blank.. 

“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”

Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else. 

He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.  

What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does. 

“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”

A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.

At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple. 

“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently. 

Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.

Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened. 

“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”

Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.

Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.

“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”

A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.

Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea. 

That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.

Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.

“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”

Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action. 

Watching Bill about to enact his  vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -

The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.

“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”

On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.

“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.

No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -

“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”

Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.

“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”

Oh. 

There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could. 

Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.

And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched. 

“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”

Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another. 

And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that - 

“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”

“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”

“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”

Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.

That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now. 

“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”

Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him. 

He’s…

All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.

Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay. 

This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine. 

He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks. 

Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension. 

He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.

Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it. 

Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.

Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim - 

But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.

Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.

Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair. 

The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while. 

Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.

The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.

Living here. With Bill. 

Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line. 

All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument. 

His assumptions have never been right. 

Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.  

Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.

DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just. 

Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache. 

Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other. 

If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.

They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’. 

And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid. 

It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.

Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream. 

It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.

How the hell is he getting away with all of this?

It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo. 

Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.

The birthmark. It must be that.

The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.

But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages. 

It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.

Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better. 

Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.

Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special. 

It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…

Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.

Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box. 

Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips. 

Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow. 

There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.

Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-

No, His room. Where he lives.

An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight. 

Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.

The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.

Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -

Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed. 

He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him. 

Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.

He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…

Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought. 

It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily. 

He could use that.

Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second. 

The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.

And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace. 

He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk. 

Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north. 

“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”

“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”

Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.” 

Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.

Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence. 

Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it.  “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?” 

A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”

Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”

Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”

He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.

Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.

And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.

“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong!  Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”

“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way - 

Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.

“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”

Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes. 

Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless. 

He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.

…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great. 

Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses. 

“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”

“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-

“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”

“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”

Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads. 

Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off -  but when doesn’t he?

Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them. 

Wait, what are they doing here? 

The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -

Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.

He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.

Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed. 

Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”

“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room. 

Just as he suspected. It is a great bed. 

As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to. 

It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill.  For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever. 

Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment. 

“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”

Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”

His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry. 

Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back. 

Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline. 

Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like. 

There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth. 

Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face. 

Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude. 

The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound. 

He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.

A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence. 

Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable. 

So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all. 

The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days. 

But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise. 

“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”

Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering. 

There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up. 

It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.

He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and  - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants. 

The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.

And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’. 

Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.

“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that. 

He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to. 

Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight. 

Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.

Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.

God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter. 

The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls. 

After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would. 

Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.

 None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really. 

…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward. 

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient. 

Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective. 

Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.

[jazeswhbhaven]

That's What You Get When You Eat a Mandrake~ (Beel Butt L-Card Story: Ch.1) *React 2*

S t o p

Be sure to check out Part 1 of this react first ->

If you've already checked it out you're good to go ^^

So we left off on Beel, Dong-hyung and MC making it back to the palace after walking through Avisos. MC is very much still drunk asf.

But our cute bby did it!! He carried MC all the way back and Beel is impressed so-

So Beel pulled down DonBear's pants lmao and left a tattoo on his booty that says 'cute' lol So now we know how Beel 'tattoos' he uses magic to do it. (kinda reminds me of that Misfits episode...)

And here this is how I realize that getting a tattoo from Beel is the highest honor. Also we do know DonBear is of age because he was at the bar in the first place, but perhaps he just didn't earn the piercing just yet because there are a lot of citizens of Avisos to go through...I'm sure some of them don't have a piercing yet.

hehehehehe

Awh that would be cute, imagine DonBear being the future king of Gluttony? (Though I wonder if Bael would be like...uh maybe let's not say that even though he needs a damn break lol)

Even when MC went back to Gehenna he was still poking around wondering when he'd see them again T^T and he crafted the booty chocolates in the idea of MC's butt that's just amazing to me. (also he's an ass guy confirmed then)

But but but-

So I jumped ahead a bit in the last react post it seems they didn't' drag him along with them until AFTER the flashback ^^;

But still a hundred doctors??? Damn I wish I had that many at my call when I get sick like dang help (mammon would probs get me doctors, the best care around or I could just see Morax <3)

This is the part where I'm like, dang what would that do to MC if they ate it???

Again then why the fuck were ppl putting it in the chocolate omg, MC was literally about to eat like a box or two T^T (which I mean maybe it does nothing in small quantities but still)

But I can't help but not feel sorry for Beel he didn't have to eat all those boxes like a jealous heathen lol

BAEL PLEASE

So it's explained that if he doesn't get the antidote that it will consume his mind and make it troubled and Beel is just like "Yeah uh my friend is fucking dense so will there be any difference?"

Pls. The shade.

So Beel didn't hit him because of what he said about his mind, but because-

Our bitey horni king of Gluttony is fucking scared of needles I cannot.

This is just really funny seeing as how he seemingly isn't really afraid of anything but that.

He really doesn't want that shot lol

They ask MC though if they're willing to give him the shot and I'm sitting over here like...

(I have to sometimes help my roommate with their T-shots so...I kinda know what I'm doing/ they also don't like needles btw so this has been a ride for the household)

So everyone leaves the room so MC and Beel can discuss this and right off the bat I feel that MC is me here too because I'd say the same shit "That's what you get, Beel. Now look at you."

NOPE NOPE You don't get to grrrrrr at me >:( you got one more time to growl

*shakes my finger* Don't you dare....bad devil...bad boy!

ULTIMATUM TIME. Because yeah if we're gonna be childish and growling and shit, let's get real I ain't coming back. I'm staying in Gehenna and ordering Satan to kick you out on sight >:(

So it seems the threat made him serious, because he pulls down his pants (lmaooo he was like damn it's like that then...)

and phew the description of his ass

Huh, I wonder what MC is watching then because man sometimes there's some nice booty in porn *shrug* BUT I DIGRESS this is MC's universe lmao

I just know we've seen his pale non tanned booty on that card and it's nice. I'm trying to decide if Mammon's is better though cause it's got that badoonk round thing going for it...hmmmmm

(sidebar: on his attacker card I wanna be in that club seeing how his butt flexes and moves when he fucks because-) ahem

moving onnnnn :D

Same MC. Same.

So he's not gonna do the shot for free. He has bad memories. Hm.... I'm sure we will know more about that later. Possibly something bad involving angels is a high reason why he hates shots.

Oh???? So we're gonna have to distract him then....

This is gonna get hot...like really hot, and it's probably gonna take me forever to unlock the unholy board because I'm f2p lmaooo I'll just partake in the spoilers when they pop up btw there is a weird bug that I'm not sure they fixed yet for this card's unholy board. Most aren't able to proceed and some aren't able to use his ultimate either. BUT in conclusion: Beel was being an ass and now his ass in on the line. Lol I bet you he won't even remember or care about this once he gets the shot. No accountability will still eat any gift anyone gives MC in the future no matter what. But as always thank you for sitting in on another react by your lovely admin. I am now going to finish that Bael oneshot and gear up for a full Valentine's day of Beel for you all. -your lovely admin ♥( ˆ⌣ ˆԅ)

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep4

• cooper and lucy wandering the desert and mans starts coughin', somethin' settin' in • whoa i just realized you could hear roger roaring from outside • roger was at a clinic, probably trying to find something to help him ☹️ • i wrote a whole entire post on this scene but anyways can i say we see full blown uncooked cannibalism hardly ten minutes into episode four like is everyone ok • the fact this scene is presented with a lot of tension, like a horror film and truly it's just a guy named roger fighting to stay not feral • i wonder how cooper met him? ghouls tend to know each other after a while [on account of the discrimination], i'm sure he was checking with this man every now and then tbh. perhaps. a friend. • cooper asks roger how he's feeling and he says "you know... it's hard out here. dang smoothies can be so unkind" and i just 😞 • "i see you got a smoothie of your own" ding ding ding ghoulcy this one's for you • you know what's particularly sad about ghoulification is for example that roger has had to isolate himself from others, even ghouls, because he was turning • roger asking for a vial and cooper looking at lucy [cooper, you botched the using lucy for bait, come on] • firmly in the camp that if cooper had vials left, he would give one to roger. cooper has shown himself to be crude and cruel seeming at times but i just know he went there with purpose • roger accepting he's turning and telling cooper and lucy to leave as a warning, roger seemed so nice, why and how did he get like this

• "i did ok" 😞 • going from standard human to turning into a feral ghoul in less than twenty eight years in the fallout universe is insane and idk if there's a lot of lore on why someone could end up like this and someone like cooper not • the difference in cooper's and roger's symptoms are pretty stark--- not entirely sold on him coughing and passing out is from ferality and more inclined to think chem withdrawals but i digress • "say, you remember how good food use to taste?" post war life is so bad, nobody in the wasteland remembers when food use to food 😭

• because roger is really nice and having a conversation, roger turns, speaking to lucy. cooper using this as an opportunity to kill roger seems so sudden and a betrayal until • look at cooper's eyes and his reaction after pulling the trigger--- not exactly the expression of someone who is in it "for the love of the game", in fact, i have come to view this act as a mercy kill • which is ironic of course because as we've all come to see, lucy does the exact thing for her own mother four episodes later • once feral, ghouls roam the wasteland operating on two instincts alone: hunger and defense. they are a threat to all those around them and i don't recall much on reversal. that's no life. roger would've turned feral and harmed them or others, it is sad • cooper mercy killing roger was in some ways compassionate, he had a sweet conversation with roger giving his last thoughts something warm and nice. cooper then going on to butcher and consume his flesh was an uh choice 💀

• and lucy immediately confused was like "wait?, why'd you do that? he was sick." i don't know if she entirely understands ghoulification, seems she thought maybe he could be helped • lucy is basically confused, begging cooper to not like, eat this guy 😭 • i'm gonna have to agree that he didn't have to eat roger, radroaches is everywhere and for free, still pondering if he did this to fuck with her or because some reason i am missing • cooper asking lucy what her name was [hold on, why he care about that?" and lucy so nearly coming this close to finding out what hank did and who cooper is [since she didn't ask his name] • "sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella" is my all time favourite quote in season one of this show lmao • cooper be funny as fuck for no reason like this man's brain is cooked • i would personally like to ask walton whose idea it was to go "mmm. mmm." while eating irradiated human flesh like that, like why is the pre war actor cooper howard like this • lucy is incomprehensibly disgusted but then goes on a thing [a vulnerable thing] about vault 32 starving [in the great plague of '77] and that she lost her mother during this time and that her father never resorted to cannibalism. there's some time and memory discrepancies here • "well there's what people say they did and what they really did" i wanted cooper to be wrong so bad here when he went on to clown hank by saying "i'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. i bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbour's ass on it" • lmao they gave all the best lines to cooper, i'm sick, he was right • lucy, having had enough and not finding cooper's humour being used as a way to cope like this asks this disturbed little man • "how do you live like this? why keep going?" and for the briefest moment, and i do mean brief, cooper feels the crushing weight of who he is when lucy confronts him like this • of course he shakes off a moral inquiry and transfers it to another as he asks "why the fuck am i doing all the work?... ass jerky don't make itself." and forces lucy to do it instead • twice now this man has talked about ass in less than ten minutes and for everyone's sake i'll move along 💀

• woody basically trying to interrogate the raider prisoners and getting nothing, meanwhile--- i think they already starting to be poisoned • ooo ok but betty telling norm he's the last standing maclean in the vault so his words carry and people listen. it occurred to me maybe he inadvertently inspired the poisonings of the raiders but it's also occurring to me that because they couldn't just all be shot outright, being poisoned was the best follow through method, nobody notices until it's already too late. now who is sneaky enough for that? • "when clever boys like you are angry, you're lucky not to have seen where that can lead." so... was betty present for shady sands? hmm • betty asking norm to tread lightly is very... not a threat, but she's watching him, right

• ok! we have that second water scene. it's confirmed here cooper is fetching water from an irradiated source [hence why denying lucy any makes sense] he puts it in his canteen and drinks it just fine. lucy is obviously mindlessly thirsty because she defeatedly drops down to drink the murky, stagnant irradiated water. it's so irradiated, her pip boy is going crazy, she literally gags in the scene • "now you're getting it. how does this golden rule jibe with what's going through your head now?" well i mean we knew cooper been fucking with her the whole time and showing her the wasteland streets but it is also unlikely she would have found a clean water source where they are, i guess her getting radiation sickness may have been inevitable but cooper denying her water kept her from being sick • after another insane string of sentences from this centuries old movie star, lucy finally asks "what are you?" and it's more like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" • "oh i'm you, sweetie, you just give it a little time" is majorly menacing after everybody just drank stagnant rad water like it's koolaid • cooper felt so smug then was zapped with karma again because he has a coughing fit directly after telling lucy this lmao • walton has such a good old man cough ❤️ • lucy takes cooper coughing up a lung as an opportunity to run [where i don't know but] • cooper uses his lasso skills he used to use at kid's parties to pull lucy back and then says some shit like "where you think you going? you ain't going nowhere."

• so we have arrived at the infamous and intriguing finger biting off scene--- can i just say she bit his finger off with such ease and then! cooper doesn't even act like it hurt, he seems... pleased he got that kind of reaction out of lucy. he's like into it 💀 • "there you are, you little killer" i'll keep this pg13 and say cooper really wanted to get a rise out of lucy, to bring the dog out of her, huh • he... then proceeds to cut her [corresponding hand's] finger off. ironically applying the "do unto others as you would have done unto you" tit for tat, if you will • i was surprised he did this because like ok, she spat it out? pick it up and reattach it, fella 😭 but there's more under the surface here because • cooper says "now that right there is the closest thing we've had to an honest exchange so far." and he's being framed in a close up so close, you can see his dainty eyelashes, sun shining in the background, his hazel eyes sparkling--- this is not on accident ☝️ gdgkdkfd • there's a lot of symbolism to be had but for now, i'll save that for next episode notes when cooper does the thing • ah chet! and steph. i kinda am of the idea she strategically got with him but anyways! who wouldn't! chet hot as fuck! and steph look like an assassin • bert's shoes so small gldgldfl • steph is definitely angry and sad dealing with bert's death in her own special way [trying to fuck chet] • excuse me but why they turned an almost sex scene into a birthing scene 😭💀 • lucy been walking the wasteland without a shoe, how she do it 😭 • i did not pick up on cooper bartering lucy for two months' worth of vials [thanks subtitles] • "mint condition" [looks at a bloody stump on hand] "near mint condition" now who fault is this?? lmao • "you got problems out here too, sweetheart" like, shut up 😭 • cooper every time he interacts with a mr. handy is one of the only few places he gets to hear a voice of this old friend • "best you try your luck behind that door" well at least he untied her • this is like the third time he's gotten instant karma with lucy because either he pretended to keep it together until she went in or genuinely didn't know he was going to pass out but • went through the five stages of grief trying to figure who he sold her to because i deadass was thinking the same thing lucy was 😭 • lucy being given the finger of like, a corpse or something because it's grey 😭 forever changed by the wasteland, always carrying a little bleakness and death with her ❤️ • lucy never experiencing real cotton [or maybe only rarely] • lucy calling cooper a creature 😭 • "he put a leash around my neck and made me drink from puddle water that i'm pretty sure was some kind of animal pee" sending 😭 she talking to this evil mr. handy like it's a person • her recounting her captivity with cooper like he was simply being mean to her is just • "and i thought i was here to be a sex slave." "what?! no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs." damn, fallout which one is worse, like fuck---

• hope the jello cake veronica got wasn't poisoned... • "what are you looking at?" "a murderer in a cage, paying the price for what you did to us. for what you did to the innocent people in vault 32" and norm gets circumstantial evidence from a raider by accidentally cross examining one of them with it being more than anything woody could coax out of them • one thing about the macleans, they smart • i also think it's excellent writing that intrigue was spurred like this by a raider saying vault 32 wasn't innocent because they were running an experiment like all the vaults did, everything isn't so black and white • norm reads every situation correctly because why he read chet by saying chet came along to investigate because norm reminds him of lucy fkdgkdkg • still piecing together the full extent of vaults 31, 32, 33 together but at first i couldn't understand why it looked like so many took their own lives--- apparently them discovering what vault 31 was about started a rebellion but two years seemed so recent to me. curious how this overlaps with shady sands if it does • they showed the spooky ass rat utopia experiment still playing on the tvs in there but i wasn't sure if this was explicit about that being vault 32's experiment

• lucy being prompted to continue on because of a flashback from her mom upon awakening 🥲 • "lucy sweetie what are you doing out here?" and those were her memories on the surface [nevermind cooper calling her [[condescendingly]] "sweetheart"] • i did not realize the ghouls were being kept in the freezers but it looks like they either only sell ghouls or keep the ghouls "on ice" [not unlike how dom pedro would keep cooper and cut pieces off of him] and collect the organs of standard people right then and there • "sir, you can't do this. please, i need my organs" lucy, it's just a robot bulter, he's not a real guy 😭 • the way lucy got out of this pickle quick, almost got snip snipped but short circuited the murderbot • lucy putting her murdercap on and putting drano in the murderbot's syringes, clever girl • it was so "star wars" of her to treat mr. handy like a person and then the guys running the organ trafficking scheme going "you might as well be holding an air conditioner hostage" 😭 • the organ traffickers running the super duper mart ring are so dull and banal evil types, it's so satire

• i just registered those two organ trafficker guys got a camera and can see cooper laid out in front of the store • lucy freeing the ghouls 🥲and one even thanking her [even the feral ones 💀] • poor martha, i peep how we see lucy's grey finger and it being shown used to defend herself against martha in her feral state • organ traffickers got ate up bless • nothing lucy did besides shoot was going to honestly stop martha, sometimes your pacifist playthrough doesn't go as planned • the pip boys still being on and running on the not alive people in vault 32 • "death to management" and it's directly the reference to vault 31's experiment, right there

• lucy walking out of there with mismatched shoes but two shoes nonetheless ☝️ • i guess lucy sincerely did not comprehend cooper is a ghoul or ghoulification, i suppose most vault dwellers literally would never know, that's post war history, wow • lucy asking cooper about if the vials keep him from going feral and he cannot even speak, he can only nod, from a prone position, on the ground--- the power/framing trade off is excellent • lucy bends down, briefly rolls the gun in her hand, while cooper lies helpless, she delivers a fatal line • "i may end up looking like you. but i'll never be like you" harbouring not enough ill will against him despite mistreatment, she gives cooper several vials, directly near his hand. didn't have to do none of that shit! • if i was cooper, i'd be scared as hell of this lady, she took down an organ trafficking ring in a grocery store ran by two armed guys, a murderbot, with some feral ghoul hostages, all of the bad and dangerous people fucking died • she really could've ended cooper right then and there, his devotion in season two gone be unmatched lmao

• i truly think he had a hint of a smile on his face after she helped [save his life] by anyways • lucy walks into the proverbial sunset meanwhile this man shambles into super duper mart about to go on the biggest bender the wasteland has seen since the bombs dropped • cooper gets so fucked up, i lost count how many things he ingested, king said all of 'em • cooper is so goddamn famous, his film "the man from deadhorse" is just sitting next to a tv • you could say here is where cooper has a crisis of conscience whereupon he holds the tape in his hand but truly we know already he had that centuries ago when he filmed "the man from deadhorse"

• cooper watching the scene, the very moment in his life where things started to shift--- he tries to cock an invisible fun, being unable as he remembers his trigger finger is gone [neutral, disarmed, here's where i think he decides he wants to sew on lucy's finger to his hand] it's like he's starting over, a moral rebirth but with his trigger finger • they really made cooper say "you commie son of a bitch" in a western, just ugly propaganda • let's examine "feo, fuerte, y formal" again! "ugly, strong, dignity" does post war cooper have two out of three on that front? is this his step into regaining dignity again? • cooper was always playing characters, it was expected of him and he got paid for it. it feels like a wall is being torn down, something is being shed here. and maybe it's this character he's masquerading as • cooper and lucy both having revelations in the super duper mart--- lucy realising you can't always reason and logic out of a situation and cooper being confronted with the fact you can keep your morality and sense of self intact and a horrible place and situation doesn't have to change you

[buckets-of-dirt]

Top 5 things to find on an excavation (artefacts or non-artefacts; 'find' can be interpreted however you like)?

1. Cats

Can you say "site mascot"? Nothing turns a crowd of archaeologists into a cooing mess faster than an unexpected kitty, no matter how tough and professional they try to pretend they are. They're usually very pushy site visitors, but they're so dang cute that I don't even mind when they step into my unit without permission. Though there was the one that rolled in poison ivy and then immediately demanded scritches...

2. Stories

Those once in a lifetime finds you'll still be talking about at parties when you're 80. The trowel that went missing. Assemblages that create little mysteries you'll never unravel. The time the truck got stuck. That Tim Hortons your crew is never allowed to go back to. Your first projectile point. How hard so-and-so cried on backfill day

3. Friendship

Excavation crews share a special bond that can only be forged through engaging in many hours of often-tedious manual labour together over a few weeks or months. And you'll need this bond to get through (especially with the kinds of deadlines you have to work under in CRM). You may never see some of these people again, but if you're lucky you might find a lifelong friend or several down there in the dirt. Even the short-term friendships you form are important, though, because excavations aren't always within commuting distance of your home and it's pretty miserable never socializing with anyone outside of field hours

4. Artifacts that clearly belonged to kids

Toys, learning aids, first attempts at tool making, all fantastic. Even frozen Charlottes and tiny shoes, both of which are often seen as "creepy", make me smile. I am not immune to evidence of people being people, okay? Go look at the toys found in the Indus Valley sites (particularly the MANY found in the cities' extensive drainage systems) and remember how to feel joy

5. Textiles and textile-adjacent artifacts

We all knew this one was coming, let's be real. It's no secret that I love textiles. Several of my hobbies are fibre arts and I'm always looking for new ones to try, and this love of textile technologies extends into my archaeological work. Unfortunately for me, textiles themselves rarely survive in most contexts. But happily, there are other artifacts related to textiles that do survive. Buttons, thimbles, needles, loom weights, beads, spindle whorls . . . and then there's certain pottery decoration styles that everyone who knows me is thoroughly sick of hearing about. I will put down whatever I'm working on, no matter what, to go see any find related to textiles

[suzukiblu]

T'was this one (https://www.tumblr.com/suzukiblu/728053628029616128/wip-snippets-timkon?source=share) but the other was fantastic too! DANG riddler, way to give tim some Trauma TM snickers

Ohhhhh THAT one, haha, yeah, I can give you more of that!

And yes. Much trauma, all for Tim. Superboy, uh . . . kinda came pre-traumatized there, lolsob.

"I'm not mad at you," Kon says just in case Robin remembers this when he sobers up, although he still wants to vomit anyway. All he can think about is . . .

He just doesn't want Robin to go back to normal and have that awful, awful moment where he has to deal with knowing somebody touched him like that when he was out of his mind; when he wasn't in control of his mind.

Kon hates that kind of thing even when he is in control of himself, and can only imagine how much worse it'd be for somebody like Robin. Like . . . just, speaking of control issues and all.

"So you prefer being the one doing the tying-up, then?" Robin muses, and Kon grits his teeth.

"I'm not going to fucking rape you just because you don't know better than to stop me right now," he spits.

"Can't rape the willing," Robin says way too lightly, which at least helps Kon remember that he's out of his fucking mind right now.

"You are literally proving that someone can, actually," he says, glaring at the floor. He doesn't think about–anything. Just . . . not anything.

He doesn't think about–

He inhales. Exhales. Glares at the floor.

Robin's trying to wriggle out of the tangle of the grapple line. Probably that would be working out better for him if Kon weren't literally telekinetic, but whatever. He'd rather deal with feeling Robin squirming in his mental grip than Robin saying–

"Well I know you're willing . . ."

That.

Or . . . anything, maybe.

"I'm actually incredibly sick of other people telling me when I'm 'willing'," Kon says shortly, because he can't think of anything else that might shut Robin up.

"What?" Robin says.

"You heard me," Kon says.

Robin frowns.

"I've seen you look at me, though," he says.

"So what?" Kon says, too tired to even care that he's apparently been that stupid and obvious and that there's probably a Bat-file somewhere with his whole stupid sexuality crisis all broken down in Robin-ese for easy perusal. "I look at a lot of people. Just because I look at somebody doesn't mean I wanna do anything about it."

"Because I'm not a girl?" Robin says, still frowning.

"I don't care that you're a dude, dude," Kon says, which is only maybe halfway a lie. Like, he cares, just . . . not like that.

He doesn't think it's like that, at least.

"You mean you've been raped," Robin says neutrally.

"It's not like they forced me, just–" Kon sighs, rubbing a hand back through his hair. "I mean. Technically, I guess. Legally or whatever."

Statutory rape still counts when somebody grew you in a vat and aged you up with freaky mad science shit and information uploads, right?

. . . actually it might be worse, come to think.

Kon really doesn't want to figure that one out right now. Just . . . no. Definitely not.

Maybe just never, even.

"'They'," Robin repeats. "It was more than one person?"

"Like, not at the same time," Kon says. "But yeah, I guess."

"I'll make it all better," Robin says like the world's most fucked-up promise, and Kon's jaw tightens.

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 167

YO PROPS TO WITCH!!!

Hm, I wonder how Leelathae writes in her diary? I mean, does she write them in just dialogue, or narrative, or what? Either she is writes in dialogue, or she described the witch pretty well for Gwen to recognize who the witch is.

I mean, I didn't expect these ingredients, but sure. Does this imply there's a cemetery near The Pastel Kingdom? Cause Leelathae isn't allowed to be far from home, right? And I doubt she would ask someone to get dirt from cemetery for her...

I wonder what Leelathae plan was? Cause she didn't get the chance to execute it since her portrait was stolen by Leland. Or maybe she did execute it while in the Plaid Kingdom?

I agree with the witch so much. The painters fr did Leelathae dirty 💀

THE WITCH WASN'T LYING. SHE DOES LOOK COOL AF. LIKE. BRO?? HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE.

Huh. How does the ingredient turn into a paint-like liquid?? None of the ingredients are liquid based. Maybe the dirt?

This whole spell thing is sick man. It's so dang cool!! I wonder if anyone notices Leelathae sparkling?? I mean, one of the maids has got to notice right?

Also I've never knew there's tea inside snickerdoodles (chai is tea, right?). Well, it's not like I've ever tried snickerdoodles, but last time I read the recipe, I don't remember tea being in the recipe. But that was years ago so it might just be my memory.

Well, the mystery of the portrait is finally solved! And yet there's another mystery.. what writing did Leelathae put behind her portrait? Yes, the diary is one of them, but there are other things too. Like those brown and green papers. I'm guessing it's a message toward her kids?

Ohh, that's why!! Leelathae was glowy because of the spell!

BRUH SO WAS IT LIKE, A MISUNDERSTANDING THIS WHOLE TIME?? I did kinda predict it in my really old post, but I was joking T_T

Something's kinda bothering me about what Leelathae said in her 3rd wish. Why is she only talking about her daughters? What about Jamie? Or is there a hidden meaning that I am not getting here? If someone would enlighten me, that would be nice.

Aw. It's actually pretty sweet when you think about how they didn't even know how to speak to each other at first, but they still fell in love with each other <3

Oh. Oohhh....okay. This doesn't justify what Leland is doing right now, but it sure give a big reason for it. Yikes. Damn. That must've hurt.

Okay okay, let me just remember the past episodes to realize all the causes here.

Leland's parents died due to tragic carriage accident (didn't a carriage accident happen more than once? Tho I can't remember to who besides Leland's parents)

His best friend, Jack, didn't arrive to Leland's parents' funeral, which is the moment he needed him the most (not Jack's fault though, since he was literally stranded in an island)

Leland obviously has a little crush on Jack, which is why it hurts him when he found out Jack brought Leelathae to Pastel Kingdom (again, not Jack's fault). I think this is where he jealousy starts, the point where Leland thinks he has to be better at every love things than Jack.

He overheard Jack saying he didn't need him, which is probably the nail in the coffin for Leland. I mean that monologue Leland has? That's kinda internal mental breakdown right there. (I gotta say, this scenario is kindaaa similar to Gwen overhearing Frederick calls her ugly. I wouldn't say it's the exact same thing of course. It's just the overhearing that makes it similar)

So! Looking at these 4 reasons, it is highly likely that Leland has some problems (no shit sherlock). HEAR ME OUT. I don't know what it is yet. I was thinking of abandonment issues, but I have yet to read much about it, so i'm not sure yet.

HAH! Glad Leelathae decided to haunt his dreams tho!

OH SHIT OH SHIT. NAH LELAND NAHHHH. HE BETTER NOT. ....well at the time i'm writing this the next episode is already out so.. guess we're gonna find out...IN THE NEXT REVIEW!!

Yeah I haven't read the episode yet lol. I bet it's gonna be chaotic though.

That's it for now, until next time.

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

[my-soupy-brain]

baby with ted: ted noticing that y/n’s baby bump is showing and finds it sooooo adorable

Ted + baby bump or baby is just such a swoon-worthy thing to write about because you know he's just such a doting hubby and dad. So let's gooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader (f)

Warnings: Pregnancy, body image woes

---

When you woke on a random Tuesday morning, you got out of bed and stood in front of the mirror.

You caught yourself in the mirror on your profile.

Well, there it is. The baby is growing. And so is your body.

You know this is how it works. It's not a surprise, but you're already starting to feel a little self-conscious about your changing body. Your hormones are already raging so you know that's part of it.

You turn this way and that, looking at the little bump starting to show and you sigh with a smile, rubbing the little bump.

That little Lasso bean is on their way.

Ted blinks open, reaching over to feel you, and notices the bed empty. He pops up quickly, immediately concerned that you're not in your usual spot, which is often in arm's reach or closer to him.

"Sweetheart?" he asks, looking around before his eyes adjust and he sees you in front of the mirror with your shirt flipped up.

You don't even have a chance to show him before he's hopped out of bed, in nothing more than an undershirt and boxer briefs, roping his arms around you and running his palms down your tummy.

"It's so beautiful," he coos into your ear. "Your'e so damn beautiful."

You blush, leaning against his head, your hand coming up behind you to cup his face.

His hands don't stop their tour, wanting to memorize this new landscape of your body.

"I'm gonna keep growin'..." you state the obvious, but with a sigh in your voice.

"Yeah? And you're gonna keep bein' beautiful, sugar," Ted whispers into your ear, waving the two of you back and forth in front of the mirror.

"You'll think I'm beautiful even when I'm waddling around needing to pee every five minutes?" you ask, mimicking the posture you're sure to have when the baby's ready to pop.

"Darlin', I've found you beautiful since the moment I laid eyes on ya," Ted says reassuringly. "I've found you beautiful the first time I had you in bed. I found ya beautiful on our wedding day. I found ya beautiful when you had your first bout of morning sickness. And yeah, I'll find ya beautiful when your body is getting ready for mommahood."

You smile, a tear escaping your eye. Damn hormones.

He wipes it away with his big warm thumb.

"You're easily the most exquisite creature on earth," Ted whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips gently.

...

That evening you join your friends at the pub and Ted keeps his arm around you, his other hand resting on your belly.

"Ted, darling, you don't have to do that," you whisper. "They can't kick yet."

He just smiles. "I just like touchin' ya. And being close to our little bean in there."

When Keeley and Roy see you, Keeley knows right away what's going on.

"Oi! Is your bump showin'? Can I see?" she asks excitedly, putting her drink down. Ted answers before you can.

"She is showin'! And it's the most beautiful thing in the dang world!"

You chuckle and lift up your blouse so Keeley can see and she immediately puts her dainty hand on it.

"I can't wait 'til they're kickin' in there, yeah? Gonna join the club?"

You laugh. "We'll see about that, but either way, I think Daddy here is gonna be the perfect person to show them the ropes."

Ted laughs at this, kissing your lips.

"I dunno about that, sweetheart. I'm still not entirely sure what offsides means."

Everyone laughs. Ted does, too, before he looks at Roy.

"No seriously, can someone explain it to me again?"

---

Ted would be so over the moon excited about Baby Lasso and being able to see them grow. I love this so much. I love Ted and baby prompts. Too cute. Thanks for the prompt, friend!

[mj-iza-writer]

Side story to Sp special containment. This has nothing to do with the story line I'm currently involved with. Except I need to introduce a new character. - MJ

If you want to catch up or you are new to my SP Special Containment story use the hashtag to see all of my stories so far, and I'm trying to get a new chapter out as well. I've been so busy lately, so I apologize. #sp special containment.

Whumpee groaned when someone who wasn't Caretaker entered their room with a guard.

"Hey I'm Cass", the person spoke with a high pitched voice.

Whumpee frowned, "where's Caretaker?"

"Uh, Caretaker got extremely sick last night, so he is going to be out for a day or two", the guard sighed, "Cass here pulled the short straw, so your stuck with 'em till Caretaker is okay."

Cass looked at the guard with a frown.

Whumpee grinned.

"I won't lie. I was a little nervous when they asked me to take care of one of the human weapons", Cass made an awkward grin and rubbed the back of their head, "I was interested in your cases, but uh, I'm still a junior here so I'm learning. I hope one day I'll be able to help fully in the Special Containment Unit."

Whumpee looked at the clock in their room, "so what exactly is going on right now? I'm not due for anything yet."

"Nothing, we just wanted to introduce you to Cass before they attempt to feed you", the guard looked around the room, "a new experience that you can prepare yourself for, as Caretaker explained to me."

Whumpee looked at Cass, "do you plan on strapping me into a chair to feed me? If you are just don't bother, I'm not getting into one of those stupid wheelchairs without Caretaker."

"No, no. I wasn't planning that at all. Caretaker has texted me exactly what to do, everything you like and don't like", Cass smiled, "I will try my best. Starting with these", Cass pulled out a pack of cookies.

You could see how shaky Cass' hand was as they tried to hand over the cookies.

"You are terrified of me", Whumpee frowned, "how are you going to do this if you are that scared?"

"Honestly I have no idea", Cass admitted, "Caretaker just said to plan extra time for you, so it can be done on your time."

Whumpee's eyes lit up as Caretaker's most comforting line was said.

"Okay", Whumpee nodded.

"Just like that?", Cass gasped, "Caretaker said to say that line. I thought it was weird."

The guard smiled at Whumpee knowing what that line was to Whumpee.

"Caretaker and Whumpee have a close bond, that line just told them that Caretaker was working in this. It's a comfort thing for them", the guard looked at Cass, "the guards will also be monitoring through the cameras, if we are needed we'll come."

"You won't be in here with me?", Cass looked at the guard quickly.

"Nope, if you want to be part of this unit, you're going to have to get over some fears", the guard turned to leave, "Whumpee is a good start, and you'll be able to shadow Caretaker and the other two caregivers."

Cass went to follow them out.

"Where are you going?", the guard stopped.

"I was following you", Cass gulped.

"You just gave Whumpee cookies you have to stay in here while they eat", the guard grinned, "I have other things to do."

"Really?", Cass's shoulders dropped as they both eyed Whumpee, who was munching on the cookies.

"No I'm just messing with you", the guard laughed, "yes, you do need to learn to do this on your own though."

Whumpee sat up when their buzzer went off and Cass came in.

"Your meal is served, Caretaker says he normally sets it here and sits off to the side. He let's you do as you please with it", Cass sat down, "um am I forgetting anything?"

The Director and Andy watched from the monitor room while Whumpee and Cass interacted.

"Cass seems to be doing pretty well", the Director smiled, "they may be a good addition to the unit, which is good because we need more people in this unit."

"Do you think this unit will be long term?", Andy watched the monitors.

"It's here to stay, though the three have improved quite well, they are too dangerous to be released", the Director sighed, "each holding facility is working to build their units, so I have to do the same."

"I heard they'll be shadowing us for a while, but what are your plans for them?", Andy smiled at Whumpee patiently listening to Cass talk.

"For right now to help out where needed, if we do have another weapon transfer in to our care they may get that one", the Director smiled, "I thought this would be a good spot to start, Whumpee is normally fine with us testing things with them so I knew Cass would be safe. Whumpee seems to like them."

"I have to agree", Andy felt their buzzer, "oh geesh, excuse me. Aramais is having an issue with..", Andy squinted, "stomach pains I think, they didn't type it right."

"Good luck", the Director grinned, then went back to watching Whumpee and Cass.

'This is good... I think', the Director thought to himself.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots

SP taglist. @written-by-jayy

[throwaway-yandere]

*does something to the irminsul tree* wdym?? no one knows who candle anon is--

that aside, more on to this idea but very different(?? random thought entered rn):

time traveller (not by choice) alhaitham hopping from one decade to the next and demon/immortal reader watching all that shit to happen.

alhaitham, pops out of nowhere during 2022:

reader, pausing from doing a tiktok: aww not this bitch again.

literal chaos, idk how to pull this off with yanderes (im no expert) but imagine alhaitham using reader's loneliness to make them emotionally dependent on him + the distance/absence makes the heart yearn for more idk man lol + alhaitham only using reader for his convenience

- 🕯 havent done her assignments yet

Dang, you a Scaramouche kinnie fr fr

Reader: *renegading* aww yee.

Alhaitham: I'd like to remind you about your car's extended warranty–

Reader: What the– you again?! Give it a rest buddy!–

----

Okay but fr, idk inuyasha but yandere time traveling!alhaitham is a fun concept with a demon!reader. I'm gonna make sht up since I've never watched the show completely so this is gonna be different from InuYasha

Yan!Alhaitham who made a deal with the demon!reader: he gets time traveling to complete his linguistics thesis about King Deshret while the reader gets to have his "heart".

Alhaitham trusts in his abilities as a scholar, hence, he didn't directly ask a cheat code for an early graduation. Plus, he thinks time traveling is far more useful in the longterm.

You often joked that he should've taken the easy route cause you would've asked him for his fingernails instead– albeit you'd likely draw it out of him in a more torturous and sadistic manner– but it's a lot less permanent than a heart, right?

Alhaitham chuckled.

He found you funny. It should be concerning that the only person that could make him chuckle is a demon, but he had been dubbed a lunatic several times that this fact did not faze him.

You dangled around the roof of his house whenever no one is looking. You'd ask for some daily commodities like apples– but never beans. Sometimes, your requests for the mundane makes him forget that you're not human. Sometimes, the smile you give him makes him slyly cover the blush in his face with a solemn cough.

Sometimes, the way you listen to him talk about his dreams makes him forget that you're only after one thing.

Still, the dire consequence attached when trading your heart away is that you'll become permanently apathetic. He wouldn't be able to feel anything unless he is close to the demon that acquired his heart.

That... And he's technically corrupted by forbidden knowledge.

Yan!Alhaitham completes his thesis, got full marks, and the deal was done. Demon!reader leaves him immediately, cackling as they thank the foolish mortal for even giving them something as vital as his heart.

He couldn't smell flowers anymore.

He couldn't taste food anymore.

He feels sick... But isn't at the same time.

His vision is grey. His tone is dull. His emotional reactions are timed and fake.

But he's efficient.

That's what mattered to him. Efficiency.

At least, it did.

After the archon quests, he decided to take a vacation. He leaves a note, saying something along the lines of "Alhaitham has passed away." in his desk for Kaveh to find before moving on.

He conjures up a portal somewhere 50 years down the line.

Then he felt it.

A heartbeat.

He looked around frantically– Alhaitham hasn't panicked this much in YEARS– his feet immediately scurried to find the source.

Alhaitham stops in his tracks as he saw you smiling at Aether, holding a bouquet of white roses with you. Of course, he expected to see the traveler alive and well for they've always been immortal– but what left him gawking was the glint in his hand.

The metallic glint on both of your ring fingers.

Alhaitham shook from where he stood.

King Deshret's voice echoed through his mind.

"The heart has its reasons which reason knows not."

and you'll find out soon what his recaptured emotions will flood back.

[snazzy-suit]

LLoG Progress Update!

Oh dang, it's almost April already?! January went on seemingly forever, February passed pretty normally, and March lasted, like, a week. Time is soup.

Anyway, I'm unfortunately a little behind schedule, though not by much! I was hoping to start posting the new chapters by the end of March, but they're not quite ready yet. I still have some editing and continuity checks to do, but the good news is, everything is completely written! 🎉

...and it's even longer than I anticipated 😭 As of now, before editing is complete, the total word count for all the upcoming chapters is 50,700.

50,700!

52,175 if I count the missing scene!

The last arc of what was SUPPOSED to be a short story turned into novel-length madness. Unbelievable! Why am I like this??

Here's where everything stands as of now:

Chapter 5.4 - Complete. Awaiting final continuity check. Word count: 8,220

Chapter 5.5 - Complete. Awaiting final continuity check. Word count: 7,104

Chapter 5.6 - Draft Complete. Undergoing edits. Current word count: 5,580

Chapter 5.7 - Draft Complete. Undergoing edits. Current word count: 8,097

Chapter 5.8 - Draft Complete. Undergoing edits. Current word count: 8,258

Chapter 5.9 - Draft Complete. Awaiting review. Current word count: 6,760

Chapter 5.10 - Draft Complete. Awaiting review. Current word count: 6,681

Some additional notes/tidbits:

Missing Scene - Takes place between the end of chapter 5.6 and about halfway through chapter 5.9. I couldn't figure out a way to include this that didn't feel jarring. If I like it enough, I'll post it separately from the main story. Current word count: 1,475

Chapter 5.7 is a flashback that was originally going to take place about halfway through chapter 5.6, but as you can see based on the word count, it got away from me. ^^' I decided to turn it into a separate chapter as a sort of "breather" between 5.6 and 5.8. I really enjoyed writing it, but there's a chance I may have to cut it from the main story if I feel it's too disrupting. If this is the case, I'll post it separately as another missing scene.

Chapter 5.4 is my white whale. It's undergone the most rewrites and is largely responsible for the long hiatus. I've found it's one of my least favorite chapters in this particular story and at this point I don't know if it's actually bad or if I'm just sick of looking at it 🫠

My disgruntled feelings for chapter 5.6 (the first half, anyway) rival that of chapter 5.4, which is unfortunate, because this chapter is supposed to be "The Big Reveal". Am I over-explaining things? Is this too vague? These are the questions I struggled with in this chapter and I don't know if I'll ever be satisfied with the results.

I never start a chapter knowing how long it's going to be. I just create an outline and go. As long as I check off all the major points in a satisfactory manner, I don't care if the chapter is 1,000 words or 8,000 words. That said, I try to avoid going over 10,000 words for any one chapter so as to not overwhelm readers (and myself) with a bunch of Things in a single sitting. So! When chapter 5.8 started cresting 15,000 words I was like "oh no" and immediately searched for a good spot to split it in two.

That's all I got for now! We're almost there, folks!

Tl;dr - if I don't start posting chapters by the end of April, feel free to shame me with an "L" in my DMs lol 🙈

[destinyc1020]

Okay.... whew.....

I just read this entire interview, and I have some thoughts lol....

There's a lot to unpack here lol....

Grab a seat.....

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

Overall: Overall I'd say the interview was okay for the most part? The author of the interview seemed like they had a slight crush on him, which was funny lol.... But it wasn't horrible. His photoshoot was really GOOD... He was airbrushed to the Gods lol, and they had him looking like a handsome Clark Kent lol. They sure did his photoshoot MUCH better than Chris Evans and his lackluster GQ cover and photoshoot lol. 😅🤣 (I STILL swear GQ did Chris Evans dirty on purpose lol 😅) BUT.... There were a few things that made me go: 😓 🤔🥴 I'll address some of those things here down below lol.....

Somewhere.... in the distance.... Sam Levinson weeps....

I take it JE's not planning on coming back to "Euphoria" S3 huh?? 🤭

.

🥴

Now wait a minute.... Some films are just escapes, and what's wrong with that exactly? 🤔 It's still art! Idk what he means by they aren't "universal", but whatever. Idk why he craps on his previous films like TKB so bad? It was just a Netflix movie. It was never supposed to be taken super seriously in the first place.

Well Dang..... 👀

Well gee.....thanks..... 🙄

I'm so sick and tired of foreigners putting down Americans and the USA in general. Usually when we go to other countries we're just so happy to be there....

It's interesting how people can make such wide-sweeping negative generalizations about the US just in general, when they've only been to a few cities or towns, or specific states, and don't realize that the country is VAST and varies widely by region...and sometimes even by town in the same exact state. 😏

But I digress.... I've got more to say later......

To Be Continued...

[tinyozlion]

Ah dang, it's November already? Incredible. Very inconsiderate of linear time to keep progressing this way.

Anyway, this blog will continue to be slow for a while; I got hit with two devastating back-to-back family losses and then immediately afterwards got sick. So, mental energy reserves at the moment are pretty tapped. Which is very frustrating! because I know exactly what I want to write but I have no juice in the tank to write it. Instead I have been drawing blorbo self care.

On the other hand, I've been doing a lot of informative background reading; Radetzky March by Joseph Roth, Der Rote Kampflieger and a early aviation history stuff, a lot of essays. Plus, I've been catching up with the original U.C. Gundam timeline, which I've been meaning to do since FOREVER. All good things to put in the brain that happen to be tangentially related to GW, for the fixation must feed.

Every time I see new notes and commentary on here I am filled with delight and excitement that people are actually finding my stuff even when I'm not posting. I am also predictably consumed with anxiety about all my less polished entries, frantically editing things behind the scenes knowing full well that this is a futile endeavor for the mistakes have already been immortalized in reblogs... Such is the way.

I hope those who partake had a magnificent Halloween, and that the rest of the year will be kind to you. I know the world is especially violent at present.

For November, have an especially goofy looking Scorpio from the Chartres Cathedral. Look at this idiot. Even his tail looks disappointed.

Yours ever, Wesley, and to a lesser extent, Tinylion

[monkiebois]

Feel free to ignore this if this is spoilers, but I'm curious. How did Macaque react the first time he saw Mei’s heat stroke/sick spells from the Samadhi Fire?

theres actually very few things that are spoilers from the kids past. so i dont mind any questions about it especially since its likely gonna take another month for the ask blog to start bc of this dang comic :)

(sooooorrry lilac i stuffed this in my drafts cause this was getting long and i had to go to bed)

(im writing this when im almost done with this writing bit and ooooh boi lilac what have you done/ evil pos)

aright writing this as i finished writing this and oh boy oh boy oh boy this one needs some MUSIC

___________________________________________________

"k-kiwi...whats wrong?" Macaque asked, his hands shaking around her small frame. She had asked to rest with him on his folding chair while he was watching Mk. she seemed tired to he hesitantly let her sit next to him only for her to crawl onto his chest and sleep there.

but something was wrong, she seemed tired but now she wouldn't respond to him, she whined as if she was having a nightmare. He checked her forehead and she was burning up.

"sh-shit mei, mei open your eyes!" Macaque was now sitting up and holding mei back with his arms, her eyes were scrunched up, her tails wrapped tightly aroun herself, her ears folded back and sweat trailed down her face unnaturally.

"Papa!" Mk rushed up to Macaque and emmediatly put his attention on Mei "wh-what do you know whats happening? Mk baby whats going on with Xiaojiao" Macaque asked, his voice wavering even more by the second.

"she needs baba! Baba said that if Mei ever got really really hot to get her to-" Suddenly Macaque scooped Mk into his arms and they dropped. Macaque gripped Mk tighter as he yelped due to the sudden fall but when Mk opened his eyes they were back inside of the house and Macaque gently set him down.

"WUKONG, WUKONG!!" macaque yelled out, grasping Mei tighter to his chest. she was hot to the touch, burning his skin through his clothing but he only held on tighter as he searched the house for the girls father.

"W U K O N G!!" He screamed one final time as he finnaly ran into Wukong with adult form Nezha right behind him.

"whats wrong plum, wha-" Wukong froze at the sight of Mei in his arms and the pure fear and panic written across his body.

"sh-she wasnt moving and wouldnt respond i-i didnt know what to do" Wukong took Mei into his arms "Mk told me to bring h-him to you"

Wukong turned to Nezha "Nezha, explain to Macaque whats happening. Ill take care of Xiaojiao" Wukong stated then turned away to leave.

Nezha watched Wukong take Mei into another room and sighed before turning back to Macaque.

Nezha noted to himself how Macaque kept his stance stiff and straight up but the way his eyes scanned across the closed door wukong was behind, how his tail twitched anxiously and his hands twitched open and closed. he was even pale.

Nezha would have found it hard to believe that the man who proclaimed he never needed anyone, that he was only here so Xiaotian wouldn't die from poor care, and that he had nothing else to do, was so genuinly concerned for his little sister if it wasn't for those telltale signs

"Mei...has the samadhi fire"

With those words what remained of Macaques cracked mask finnaly shattered, his eyes widened as he looked at Nezha.

"only a piece of it, she was born with it...which is why we cant remove it. but sometimes, since she's so young, her body cant handle its power and she overheats. wukong is trying to remove the excess magic a-"

"remove it!?! god's i knew Wukong would be shit with kids but removing the excess magic?!" Macaque suddenly snapped his entire demeaner went from scared out of his mind to angry and determined as he stormed past Nezha. Nezha tried to grab him but Macaque's arm turned to shadow and slipped through his grip.

Nezha called after macaque and followed him into Xiaojiaos room where Wukong sat on her bed with Mei in her arms.

"wukong don't you dare remove her excess magic, i swear to the god's do you have any idea what that will do to her?!" Macaque snapped almost slamming the door on Nezha before noticing him and leaving it open.

"you.stay," Macaque pointed at Nezha then turned back to wukong "you both need to hear this because apparently no one in this house understands magic!" Macaque groaned while weaving something blue between his fingers.

"Youth magic is unstable for a reason. its shaping itself. she might have fire type magic because of that ring but it needs to shape itself to Mei and her soul so that she can control it in the future." The blue within Macaques hands shaped into small glass like cubes.

"you know ice magic?" Nezha asked.

"very little, i can only make cubes that dont melt" Macaque now weaved purple through his fingers and wrapped the ice in what looked like his shadows. when he was finished a small ice pack made of no-melting ice and shadows rested in his hand. He approached Wukong who had her tail wrapped around Mei and looked about ready to cry.

Macaque hesitated but then sighed and put a hand on Wukongs cheek. "its alright, you didnt know" Macaque comforted as he kissed her forehead. he moved to Mei and shifted her arms so that h could slip the ice pack into her arms and she could hold onto it like a plush.

"has it been getting worse?"

"yes" Wukong said defeatedly.

Macaque kissed her cheek this time "taking her magic was why, but she's still young so it hasn't caused any damage" Macaque stepped away from Wukong and folded his arms "it might be rough but she needs to sit through it, if she doesnt her magic will only get more and more unstable because it cant develop. since she has the samadhi-well, a piece of it, her body and magic need to learn to live with each other and survive-"

"b-but what if it doesnt?" Nezha asked, macaque turned to him and also noticed a little curious monkey hanging onto his leg.

"it will, she has a seal on her magic right?"

"yes"

"then she'll be fine-"

"but what if she isnt, we cant soley depend on what works for everyone else. Mei has a piece of the Samadhi fire what if she gets worse no matter what we do and then her body cant handle it anymore!" Nezha snapped.

Macaque stood silently, his tail swishing as a million replies ran through his head. instead Wukong stood up and handed Mei to Macaque so she could hold Nezha .the moment Wukongs arms wrapped around the lotus prince he instinctively turned to his smaller form and Wukong had to adjust his arms to hold Lil Nezha up.

"its alright Lotus, this is whats best for Mei"

"taking her magic would only make her more unstable as she grows older, she needs the chance to develop" Macaque said shifting Xioajiao in his grip.

"we'll all be there for her, I promise," Wukong said as she scooped up Xiaotian into her arms as well.

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

After that conversation Macaque made more Ice-he hated the ice, despised it. but Kiwi needed it and he was not going to deny her this comfort--and filled up a bathtub where he set her down and let her rest. the ice was colder then normal ice and the water hissed upon touching her skin but one Macaque was able to sit her down within the tub she seemd to relax. So Macaque sat on the closed toilet seat and let out a big sigh.

"thank you" Wukong said from the doorway.

"dont thank me, i just-"

"you didnt want to deal with my moping because i hurt my kid, you only helped because the kid deserved a chance, you didnt help because you actually genuinly cared....i know, i know. I think after three years of raising these kids with you ive heard all of your excuses" Wukong ranted, chuckling when Macaque turned his head away and huffed.

"say what you want, i think we both know just how much you care about these kids...and not just Mk....Xiaojiao, heh even Nezha"

Macaque didnt face Wukong, merely kept his head down as if the floor was the most interesting thing at the moment.

"god's" He finally groaned, burying his hands in his face. "what the fuck have i gotten myself into..."

Wukong blinked, then approached Macaque slowly "i cant...i cant be a parent" He sighed.

"what do you mean, Macaque youve helped me with so mu-"

"there's more to parenting than just, knowing the basics wukong!" Macaque snapped, causing wukong to flinch away the hand he was reaching out.

"i am not a good person, maybe i was back on flower fruit mountain but not anymore. that person is dead and gone and im just...im just a fucked up replacement" Macaque said, running his fingers throug the black fur on his arm.

"Maca-"

"Im selfish, im manipulative, i have hurt people for no good reason. i just wanted someone else to feel the exact same pain that i felt when i was abandoned and betrayed!" Macaque barked grasping onto the black fur on his arm.

"i cant be a parent...i cant-i cant hurt them..." Macaque's voice broke into a sob as he pulled on the black fur.

Wukong slowly approached Macaque and kneeled in front of him. Raising a hand to rest on his cheek and she pulled him forward to kiss macaques forehead.

"ive been watching you and when im not Nezha never takes his eyes off of you...in three years you havent hurt Mk or Kiwi. you love them as much as we do. we all have our flaws plums...but you care enough about those kids to change for the better" Wukong comforted as she wiped away faling tears with her thumb.

"but what...what if i fuck up." Macaque whispered, leaning into Wukongs hold.

"then own up to your mistakes and do what you can to fix them... there's no such thing as a perfect parent. But taking responsibility and growing from your mistakes is what makes a good parent" Nezha said suddenly back in his adult form and standing by the doorway. he looked between Macaque and wukong before turning away.

"...take it from someone who's had to deal with shitty parents..." Nezha finished before turning and walking away.

"i think he's finnaly warming up to you" Wukong smiled at Macaque who raised his own hand to hold Wukongs hand on his cheek and embrace the warmth of this intimate moment.

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

yeah he uuuuuh, had mixed feelings.

concern, panic, fear....but because of that sudden fear his denial phase was shattered and he finally accepted that hes a dad.

[invisibleraven]

Fuck it I'm asking for the same prompt twice bc it's my fave

9 outsider pov rulie, bonus but not required if it's Luke's pov??

Luke Patterson would be the first to admit that he didn't get romance.

Love? Love he gets. He loves his family, even while he and his mom don't always see eye to eye. He loves his friends who have been there through everything. He loves music and his guitars.

But romance? That he doesn't understand.

Of course, once he figures out he's aromantic that makes way more sense, and while he still doesn't get romance, he's better about picking up on it.

Like the fact that his best friends are crazy gaga over each other. To the point that Luke isn't sure how they can't see when his aro ass can.

There's the little things, like the soft touches, but they're all a pretty touchy bunch-well Alex mostly with Willie, and occasionally Julie, but still. Julie touches Reggie every chance she gets; just a fleeting skim of her hand over his back, or a reassuring pat to the shoulder. Reggie is a bit more touchy, with hugs and playing with Julie's fingers, but still-it's kinda excessive even for them.

Then there's the longing looks when the other can't see. It's the definition of oblivious pining and it kind of makes Luke want to rip his hair out.

But he doesn't. Nor does he shove them together and loudly yell that they like one another. Mainly because Alex says they have to figure it out themselves. But also because Luke is fairly certain he wants lots of ammo to tease Reggie with when they finally do get together.

So Luke sits back and endures the flirty looks Reggie sends at Julie, and notices how he's stopped flirting with other people at their shows, which means it's pretty dang serious. Hears Julie laugh at Reggie's corny jokes, which are terrible, and thus, must mean Julie's in love.

Then Reggie hands him his notebook; a worried, nervous look on his face as he asks Luke to look over a song for him. "It's not country is it?"

Reggie scowls, shakes his head, then stops, holding his fingers a mere inch apart. Luke sighs, shakes his head, but looks over the song anyways-he's a good bro. Plus it's not like Reggie is asking them to play it, just to have a second set of eyes.

All that glitters may be gold/But you are more precious to behold/My little darlin'/ Come watch the sun set with me We'll count the stars are they shine/Wile away, not waste our time/Together We could leave this town/Or just stay here/Either way/ I'm happy when you're near/To me So say you'll be mine/For now or until the end of time/Say that I'm yours/And we'll stay the course Hand in hand/Smile to smile/I just want to be with you a while/Or forever/Say you want together/And it's yours

"So?" Reggie asked, his fingers fumbling a mile a minute, bottom lip bitten raw.

Luke handed back the song and smiled. "She'll love it Reg. Just... go sing it for her. Right now. Don't waste time thinking about it."

Reggie nodded and took off for the house, then doubled back and grabbed his acoustic with a sheepish smile. "Wish me luck!"

"Luck!" Luke replied cheekily, ignoring how Reggie flipped him off. He was sure Reggie wouldn't need it.

And sure enough, when it was time for band practice, he was right if Reggie's swollen mouth and Julie's smeared lipstick was anything to go by.

And when Julie enthused about Reggie's song, well Luke groaned a little, but once they gave it a punk twist? It actually sounded pretty good-especially given the love sick looks that Reggie and Julie sent each other as they sang it.

Yeah, Luke didn't get romance, but his friends being happy together? That he got 100%.

[walkawaytall]

If you’re up for it, tips/faves from your Disney visit?

Okay, so I'm not expert, but here are some observations from my Walt Disney World trip in no particular order:

First off, I can't speak to other food sensitivities, but I can't eat even a little bit of gluten without becoming ill in such a way that half of my trip would have been ruined, and I was able to eat pretty easily. Ordering quick service meals through the My Disney Experience app, it was usually pretty easy to tell what I could and couldn't have, and for the table service meals that we had, the staff was incredibly knowledgeable about what either was already gluten-free or could be made gluten-free. For anyone who doesn't have food sensitivities, I don't know how to explain how much of a relief this was. Food is always such a cumbersome thing for me in general, and it's even worse when traveling, so having people who clearly knew what they were talking about go over menus with me was really reassuring, and I didn't get sick at all! Foodwise, highlights include: the churros at the Nomad Lounge in Animal Kingdom, which are GF, the GF beignets at Scat Cat's Cafe in the Port Orleans - French Quarter resort, and the Citrus Swirl at Sunshine Tree Terrace in Magic Kingdom. Also, we ponied up the cash for the Be Our Guest dining experience at Magic Kingdom, where you get to eat in Beast's castle from Beauty and the Beast, and the food was excellent. It's not a cheap meal, but, honestly, I think a similar-quality meal outside of WDW would cost about the same. And, whoever our host was is truly living his best life, acting like he's a straight-up cartoon character and clearly enjoying every second of it.

We had someone with some mobility issues who needed to sit or stop walking frequently, and some lessons learned from that: first off, if you're looking at the parks in terms of the amount of public seating with shade, Magic Kingdom is the best for that, followed by Animal Kingdom, and EPCOT and Hollywood Studios are tied for the worst. EPCOT is just...so dang hot with all the cement, and HS...okay, Galaxy's Edge does at least have some shade, but they didn't install as many places to sit as they really could have, and Toy Story Land is almost entirely roasting in the sun. If either of those areas had had a bit more seating/shade, we probably would have spent longer in the park, but as it was, it was sort of a half-day park for us.

If you're staying at a resort on-site, staying at one of the ones that the skyliner hits is super convenient, and way less crowded than the buses. The skyliner only goes to two parks, but still...that's two fewer bus rides.

Because of the way Disney has set things up, if you have any interest in the more popular rides, it is almost imperative to pay for Genie+ and occasionally Individual Lightning Lane passes. It's stupid, and I hate it, but if you're trying to maximize your time there, it's necessary to avoid standing in line half the day.

On that note, though, don't be afraid to ride the "lame" rides. Two of my favorite rides were the PeopleMover and the Carousel of Progress -- both of which I never would have checked out had I not seen Jenny Nicholson's "Top 10 Lame Things To Do At Disney World" video, which I also highly suggest (I actually love all of Jenny's videos, and she has several good ones on theme park stuff. This is one of the shortest ones).

Also, because of the way Genie+ and the Lightning Lane passes work, sometimes it's really easy to get caught up in the game of scheduling the day, and just hopping from one ride to the next without lingering in the parks and checking out the different areas. This is, in my opinion, a huge downside to this system. The parks are all highly themed in various ways, and there are cool things to look at and be around nearly everywhere. If you're constantly rushing from attraction to attraction, you miss some of that. So, try to take some time to linger. It really is worth it to do so.

If you're going to all four parks over the course of several days, I highly suggest having a rest day in the middle of the trip where you don't go to a park if you can. We had originally planned our not-park day for the end of the week, but ended up swapping it around with the last park day because we were just exhausted.

Unless something seems in danger of selling out throughout the day, save buying souvenirs til the end of the day. Spending a bunch of mental energy trying to make sure you don't spill something on your cool new bag or lose your cute Chewbacca plush is silly when you can probably just run through whatever stores on your way out. Ask me how I know this.

Don't be afraid to really examine whether the juice is worth the squeeze. I had been told we had to ride this one ride at Hollywood Studios, and even though I seriously grabbed a Lightning Lane pass four minutes after they were released, our time wasn't until like 7pm. By like...4:30, we had more than exhausted what we wanted to do at the park, were grumpy, and dreading waiting around for another 2.5 hours just to ride a roller coaster...so we didn't. We probably could have gone to the hotel and then gone back to the park, but we were just tired and kind of over it at that point, so we left for the day. And, honestly, I do not think any roller coaster would have been worth getting increasingly grumpy and sunburned over the course of a couple hours. Maybe if it had been a ride we were really looking forward to, but this was one we didn't even know existed until someone told us we had to ride it. So...examine what's actually worth the time/energy to you and base your decisions around that instead of on what other people say is a must-ride, must-do thing.

[our-flag-means-love]

alright, so i made this playlist with the target audience of Specifically Me, but if anyone else loves both ofmd and the killers as much as i do, may i present:

Ed x Stede, as told by The Killers

15 songs, 59 minutes in total.

(also on youtube, if you don't use spotify or aren't able to listen in order, which i highly recommend)

i wanted to challenge myself to tell the story of their relationship (throughout s1 + a bit of hopeful speculation) using only songs by the band that's been rotting my brain for the past year, and i think i was able to do it surprisingly cohesively.

a brief explanation and lyric highlight for each choice can be found under the cut.

(all lyrics are taken from genius, in case some don't match what you hear or don't match what spotify says)

1. boy

this could really be read as either a stede childhood song or an ed childhood song. both? both is good.

these streets / weren't meant to house / jet-fueled engine dreams

2. When You Were Young

hoo boy, if there was ever a song about ed having religious trauma.

he doesn't look a thing like jesus / but he talks like a gentleman / like you imagined when you were young

3. I Can't Stay

sorry to go straight from one of their best songs to one of their... not best songs. but yes, stede leaving mary.

in the dark, for a while now / i can't stay, very far / i can't stay much longer / riding my decision home

4. The Man

the man, the myth, the legend, Blackbeard™, with a head made of smoke and all that.

i got skin in the game / i got a household name / i got news for you baby, you're looking at the man

5. Flesh And Bone

except, oops, he's actually a person, too. and his relationship with his near-mythical persona is a complicated one.

what are you afraid of? / and what are you made of? / flesh and bone / and i'm running out of time

6. Tidal Wave

they're falling in love, your honor.

you say this life has given you nothing / you got another thing coming

7. Andy, You're A Star

uh oh, ed's prioritizing love and happiness over his career and his fame! izzy sure isn't happy about that.

in a car with a girl / promise me she's not your world / 'cause andy, you're a star

8. Mr. Brightside

yeah, i'm sorry, i know this song is overplayed, but i had to. here comes calico jack, my beloved dumpster fire, to separate our boys.

jealousy / turning saints into the sea / swimming through sick lullabies / choking on your alibis

9. Neon Tiger

ah, here they come, that good ol' english navy looking for stede.

run neon tiger, there's a price on your head / they'll hunt you down and gut you / i'll never let 'em touch you

10. Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf

ed's time away from stede is pretty dang miserable. and for this song's eerie ending, picture his smile right before he pushes lucius overboard.

before you say goodbye / leave the bourbon on the shelf / and i'll drink it by myself / and i love you endlessly

11. Everything Will Be Alright

stede, my sweet optimistic boy, you have no idea what you're returning to.

and you don't need to compromise / i'm dreaming 'bout those dreamy eyes / i never knew, i never knew / but it's alright

12. The Rising Tide

angry! ed! breakup! song!

before life and the dream collide / 'cause the truth's gonna come and cut me open wide / and you can't escape the rising of the tide

13. Have All The Songs Been Written?

stede's apology.

i just need one more to get through to you / i can't take back what i've done wrong / i just need one more

14. All These Things That I've Done

ed coming to terms with his past, his present, and his future.

these changes ain't changing me / the cold-hearted boy i used to be

15. Bones

they've reunited for good, and now they fuck. (seriously, the following are probably my favorite lines but they don't nearly do justice to how horny this song is.)

there's someone calling / an angel whispers my name / but the message relayed is the same: / "wait 'til tomorow, you'll be fine"

if you've read this far, thank you so much for indulging this intersection of my two biggest brainrots of 2022. for making it to the end, i'll reward you with the opportunity to Behold the kiss again: