#new power couple

[juleboo]

Cece and Girahim

Maybe all he needed was a friend. She was the one to bring him over from the dark side, simply because she told him his eyeliner was nice and complimented his smooth skin.

They are currently discussing the latest fashion trends and how much better they could be.

[fonmythenmetz]

The most powerful force user to ever live (smol)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 163

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath, counting to ten and then letting it out. Why was this always his luck? Alright. Okay. Time to move again thanks to Dan pushing his body too far again, and ending up in his core. This was not how he was expecting to spend his days when he ghost-adopted his clone and sort-of son now actual son. Welp, he’ll throw a dart at the map to figure out where he’ll go next. 

Hm. Well, pack up Ellie! They’re moving to a place called Smallville, you always wanted a horse, right?

[mochiajclayne]

I think Law knows the level of Luffy's craziness as he witnessed it first account at the Auction House when he punched the Celestial Dragon but what he wasn't prepared for was the benevolence, specifically, Law couldn't wrap his head on the part where Luffy's actions end up unintentionally helping a lot of people. To witness the juxtaposition of a pirate liberating countries to repay a simple favor for someone who happened to give him food, it's insane.

[happyk44]

People talking about Grover vibing with Ares over war and the violence of nature (or whatever happened in that scene) and how it was unexpected but still cool are forgetting that in the book he played a hunting game at the casino where the deer hunted people and very loudly demanded humans die over pollution and then shot at Percy with the plastic gun when they tried to get him to leave, like Grover's been wild since day one.

[navree]

"rhaenys could have ended the war by dracarysing all the greens right there" yes because a distant relation to the throne deciding to barbecue an anointed and publicly positively hailed king and his entire family who is well loved within the city and in multiple other parts of the country for the sake of the succession of a far-away princess no one was ever on board with who hasn't been seen by the populace in literal years, her psycho husband, her three obvious bastards, and two toddlers from the psycho husband would go over super well with westeros and especially in king's landing where scores of the still-cheering population were killed for no reason by that same dragon who would do the barbecuing, because when targaryens act unilaterally without thinking of how the people would react there's never any problem, which is why the storming of the dragonpit and robert's rebellion were actually just collective delusions dreamed up by readers who hate rhaenyra and not key parts of the story and house targaryen's history that directly contributed to their demise and are intrinsic to the plot

truly team black stans are made up of only the most genius and media literate amongst us

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

[fatedroses]

Man meets Morbol

[stillbreathing-aer]

holy shit mothra is such a girlboss

[seafoodsoda]

[chibi-tsukiko]

Sweet Dreams 😴

Ty Blackthorn & Kit Herondale

An alternative to this pic by Cassandra Jean that CC shared a while ago 😌

I’m keeping my fingers crossed, are you? 🤣

Characters owned by @cassandraclare

Tag list : @littleturtle95 @zfoxdraws @bookworm-jedi i @magnus-the-maqnificent @beclynn-herondale @khaleesiofalicante @my-archerboy @youngreckless @thomaslightwood @runecarstairs @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @panicatwallmaria @banesbitch @alexandergideonslightwood @ofsandstonebodies @la-lune-chaotique @starlight-in-my-eyes @tamaraheartz @anarchistbitch @iightwoodbane @icycoolslushie @zemiraa @raziyekroos @radisv @elettralightwood @axoloteca @queenlilith43 @astriefer @thomastaircompassrose @rinadragomir @carelessflower

[temporary-joyride]

I just finished Disco Elysium yesterday and I have to say my favorite part, or at least that I find the most interesting, is that you HAVE to pass the Shivers check. Every other check in the game can be worked around someway or somehow, but you must pass the Shivers check. You don't have to be smart, you don't have to be strong, but in order to finish the game you're forced to feel. You have to face the music. You have to accept this reality you're in, despite trying to escape it through alcohol. You can't. This is your world. This is your life. Tomorrow is just a whisper away.

[thalassic-p4rk]

They’re siblings, Your Honor. <3

[childrenofcain-if]

PLS, I NEED TO SEE OUR POOKIEBEAR C ACTUALLY GETTING THE COMPANY AND FIRING THEIR DAD'S ASS TO OBLIVION

the morning of C Lacroix’s 22nd birthday was a muted affair, the sun reluctant to break through the thick clouds that hung low over manhattan. it was as if the city itself was holding its breath, sensing the storm brewing beneath the surface.

in the penthouse high above the streets, the air was taut with anticipation, the stillness almost unbearable. everything in the room—the sleek, minimalist furniture, the cold gleam of marble floors, the panoramic view of a city that never truly slept—spoke of control. but today, that control was about to be weaponized, unleashed in a way that would ripple through the lives of wall street’s biggest players like a carefully orchestrated symphony of a tidal wave.

C stood by the window, their reflection a ghostly figure against the backdrop of the city they had vowed to conquer. every inch of their being was coiled with a tension that spoke not of uncertainty, but of the meticulous precision with which they had planned every detail of this day.

for twelve years, they had waited for this moment—twelve long years of enduring the shadow of a man who had sought to crush their spirit, to mold them into something small, something subservient. but today, alain lacroix would learn the folly of underestimating the very being he had dared to even try to break.

behind C, the sound of soft footsteps broke the silence, and they turned to see their soulmate—the one person who had stood by them through it all, who had quietly, relentlessly, maneuvered the pieces into place for this final move. you were the embodiment of subtle power, a force that operated in the shadows, unseen but undeniable. your presence in the room was like a quiet storm, one that had gathered strength over years of meticulous planning. and together, you were about to rain havoc on new york city.

you approached the desk where the final contract lay—a simple document that belied the magnitude of what it represented. the acquisition of lacroix and co. was complete, not through hostile takeovers or boardroom battles, but through the quiet, calculated moves that had become the hallmark of you and C. you had done it, had bought the company out from under alain lacroix’s nose, and now, with a single stroke of a pen, you were handing the reins to C.

“do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this moment?” C’s voice was a low murmur, almost a caress, as they met your gaze. they situate themself on the chair, looking down at the papers representing all the pain they had gone through. there was a fire in their chalcedony gaze, one that had been stoked by years of quiet fury, of pent-up resentment that was now on the verge of release.

you smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that reminded them of secrets shared, of plans hatched in the dead of night. “revenge,” you said softly. “i’ve heard it’s a dish best served cold.”

C’s lips twitched into a smile that was anything but kind. “twelve years ago, he left after taking everything from me.” the words were spoken with a calm that hid the storm raging inside them. “but now, i’m taking it all back.”

you reached for the pen on the desk, holding it out to C with a flourish that was almost theatrical. once they took it, you situated yourself behind their chair, arms wrapped around their shoulder as you peered onto the papers with them.

“the inheritance that was rightfully yours,” you said, your voice a soothing balm to C’s simmering rage. “brick by brick, remember? you’ll rebuild it. and alain lacroix will have no one to blame but his foolish self.”

C reaches up, their fingers brushing against your arms in a moment of silent understanding. this was more than a business transaction; it was a reclamation of power, a rewriting of history. with a swift, decisive motion, C signed the contract, the sound of the pen scratching across the paper like a death knell for their father’s empire.

as they set the pen down, C felt a strange sense of calm wash over them—a calm that came not from the act of signing, but from the knowledge that the final blow was yet to come. they reached for the phone on the desk, their movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. alain’s number was already dialed in, a ghost from the past summoned into the present.

the phone rang once, twice, before a voice crackled through the receiver—alain lacroix’s voice, thick with the arrogance that had defined his every interaction. “who is it?” he barked, clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

“missed me, father?” the words were delivered with a venomous calm, each syllable a shard of ice piercing through the phone line. “you never called. you never texted. i thought you forgot about me.”

there was a beat of silence, then alain’s voice returned, dripping with condescension. “what do you think you’re doing, C? this isn’t one of your childish games. you think buying my company will make you my equal?”

C’s smile was a razor-sharp thing, dangerous in its serenity. “your company?” they let out a soft laugh, one that held no warmth. “you misunderstand. lacroix and co. is mine now, if you haven’t already gotten the news. you took everything from me. but you forgot one thing, father. power doesn’t come from money or titles. it comes from control. and today, i control the very ground you’re setting your shoes on.”

alain’s voice crackled through the receiver, laced with fury. “you think this will hurt me?” he spat, the bravado of a man who had yet to realize his empire was crumbling around him. “you’re nothing without me, you ungrateful—”

“i’ve never been anything because of you,” C cut him off, their tone measured, every word delivered with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. “but you, father… you’re nothing without the company. and now, you’re nothing without me.”

C let out a cruel laugh, before continuing, “all those years you preyed on a vulnerable child. you thought you could teach me a lesson, show me my place. now, i’m going to show you yours.”

they hung up the phone with a finality that echoed through the room. alain’s curses, his impotent rage, were nothing more than noise now—background static to the cacophony of destruction C was about to unleash with you on the new york elite.

looking at them, you saw the remnants of the monster that their father had created. beaten and crafted into a creature of rage and pride. one that you had molded into something far more terrifyingly beautiful than alain lacroix’s wildest dreams. your own bloody frankenstein.

“C,” you murmured, your voice a soft, steadying force anchoring them. almost as if on instinct, they leaned their head backward, correctly anticipating the kiss that had them breathing hard and wild.

“let me treat you tonight,” C muttered, breathless against your lips. “anything you want, mon ange.”

“isn’t it your birthday today, lacroix?” you teased, your smile wide and genuine. “save your money. you’ll need it for the next company you buy.”

you noticed the ways the green of their eyes darkened with something deeper than just desire. “then i’m afraid you’ll have to give yourself to me, mon ange. i’ve waited so long to have you like this.”

[tswwwit]

I think it was sort of implied Bill had exes (or more like ex- one night stands? Maybe even ex- acquaintances with benefits?) so my question is 1) are any of them still alive 2) will dipper meet them 3) if so will dipper /know/ that he met them, and how does he feel about that? Bonus points for descriptions of their various improbable anatomies (picture dipper meeting a sentient pile of hornets and wondering how exactly it and a triangle managed to bone down XD).

Maybe!

Possibly!

Depends! Bill might not be totally up-to-date on the 'how to healthy relationship' course - but even he knows opining on previous flings conflicts with domestic bliss. So if Dipper does meet one of the exes, he could figure it out from context clues, perhaps. Or some bystander could let him in on the hot gossip. Or the ex could be very up-front about their previous relationship to this impudent little flavor-of-the-week fleshbag.

Bill's absolutely banged some things so physically different that trying to figure out the mechanics makes Dipper's head hurt. He's not gonna think about it for multiple reasons.

[cammy-mcspammy]

Would you be open to do celeshiro (Celestia x Chihiro)? I have a weak spot for tall brooding goths with the power to end the world and then there's one (1) little ray of sunshine that stops them from ending it all. Celeste plays poker and Chihiro next to her just 😊 (she will destroy all of you). Chihiro becomes more confident and nobody would dare to lay a finger on them because nobody wants to mess with Celeste.

I love your art 🙏 I appreciate all the hard work you do especially for us rarepair shippers 🙌

Honestly it's a cute ship but I feel it's toxic if you take the hcs out of it but I feel like they'd be healthy someday