#triangular clouds?

[badperidot]

Love the green light in the part of 'The Return' where Peridot lands her ship. Also love the random triangles that appears in the sky during this scene for some reason we will probably never know

[boardwalk-absurdist]

I'm sure this was talked to death back in the early days of the fandom back when both were big, but do we think Bill Cipher would love or hate the citizens of Night Vale? Like it's such a weird place already that Weirdmageddon wouldn't be that far from a particularly interesting week, and if it's not enough he could always go to whatever new Desert Bluffs Kevin set up in the desert otherworld (idk if that's still a thing, I'm so behind on wtnv again). Though he may find himself in a turf war with the Smiling God in that case and I'm seriously not sure who'd win. But like, if Bill was capable of chilling out a bit and going for lower-grade weirdness and slightly less sadism, Night Vale would probably tolerate him pretty easily. (Unless he messed with the resident scientist of course.)

[capricioussun]

Brainrot so bad I opened a stream and thought the streamers png was some sort of zombie uf papyrus

[dividedsingularity]

Limited palette art challenge we set up with @cookieclover much too long ago and only got around to now. As soon as I saw the palette I knew just what I wanted to draw for it and I've had the sketch (under the cut) since then, just never got around to it because I knew it would have to be digital. But as I've been getting a lot more comfortable using my tablet lately, here it finally is and I'm very happy with the result ^^ Please go check out Cookie's part as well!

Here's a version where I let myself be slightly less strict with the palette used, also:

[wandasaura]

CRUEL SUMMER

summary — maybe you were oblivious to the way you teased natasha with a cherry flavored popsicle, or maybe you’d known all along and you were just waiting for her to break

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, temperature play, outdoor sex, nipple play, oral, degradation, food play (a popsicle and it’s never inserted), mild humiliation, semi orgasm control, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, brief domestic fluff, horrible popsicle stick joke, men/minors dni

authors note — a little summer snippet of our favorite couple! just wanted to expand on a little thought i had a few days ago!

you are in love

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The cherry flavor was tart as it spread across your tongue and tinted your lips the same color as Natasha’s hair, not your favorite flavor from the selection currently stashed toward the back of the freezer, but Wanda had mistaken it for strawberry when you asked so kindly for a treat. Your tongue swirled around the popsicle lewdly, catching each droplet of thawed syrup and ice before it had the chance to make a mess of your fingers. You had no desire to join your girlfriends in the pool, enjoying the stillness of the lounge chair that you made yourself comfortable against.

Despite your reluctance to plunge deep into the warm water, your body was covered minimally, triangular pieces of fabric concealing only what mattered most, although the visible swell of your breasts was undeniably tantalizing as rivulets of perspiration clung to you.

You waved at Wanda when she resurfaced, giggling softly at the disheveled appearance she sported despite her composed demeanor. The salt water had allowed kinks to form in her silky hair, and thin strands clung to her cheeks despite how she ran her fingers through her tresses and attempted to pull them taut behind her shoulders. She waved back, sending you a teasing wink before she was gone again, a blur of vibrant colors beneath the water as she kicked off the side of the pool and swam toward the deep end; her need for physical activity even on her days off boggled you, but a bored Wanda was not someone you wanted to deal with, so you watched her glide through the water with no outward commentary.

You sighed softly, eyes closing behind the thick frames of your sunglasses, tongue still working on the swiftly melting popsicle, savoring every ounce of tartness that dissolved on your tongue. You could always get up and retrieve another, but they tasted so much better when Wanda did the work for you, and you wouldn’t get so lucky if you asked her again. She’d just barely complied the first time, huffing beneath her breath about how she’d inadvertently turned you into a princess all while she disappeared into the house.

You frowned instinctively when something obstructed the warm sunlight cascading down against your face, inadvertently shielding your body from the gentle burn that was forming against your already tanned skin (this was not the first day you’d spent by the pool with your girlfriends, and it wouldn’t be the last until the cool days of September rolled around). The cloudless sky hadn’t provided anything more than a gentle breeze in hours, and curiously your eyes fluttered open, expecting to find a stray cloud to blame, though only to come up with a set of dangerous green eyes narrowed thinly in your direction.

Shyly, you peered up at Natasha, vibrant cherry popsicle still between your stained lips as you gazed at her sweetly. Droplets of salt water raced down her arms and perfectly toned thighs, sparkling beneath the sunlight she shielded you from. If you hadn’t been aware of how your movements taunted her before, you were now, realizing that her dazzling green eyes weren’t trained on yours like you’d initially thought, but rather watching closely as you lapped at the cool juices that threatened to dirty your hands and dragged your tongue slowly across the length of the frozen treat in an attempt to savor its subpar escape from the heat. Months ago, you would’ve apologized sheepishly, would’ve submitted beneath Natasha’s heavy stare the second it had fallen upon you, but now, with a refreshing confidence and security in your relationship, you moved the sunglasses up to the top of your head, holding her stare as you plunged the frozen treat as far as the wooden stick would allow, hollowing your cheeks only to suck in suggestively as you swirled your tongue around the treat.

“Parshivets.” She muttered beneath her in Russian, and while you were still learning her and Wanda’s native language, that single word was one of the few burned into your mind without translation. Brat. She’d called you that name for the first time only a few weeks ago, in a moment of intense connection that had both of your limbs trembling by the end, but somehow it had stuck just as easily as duckling had. You weren’t sure what you heard more of anymore, your name, or that single title that had wetness pooling in your panties instantaneously.

“Tvoy parshivets.” You rebutted, eyes narrowing challengingly as you glared up at her. Your defiance was the final straw, the last test of her patience, and within seconds, before you could even comprehend what was coming next, your beloved popsicle was in her hands and between her lips. “Hey!”

“Shut up.” She grumbled around the treat, slowly stalking closer, pressing her thighs into the edge of the lounge chair you laid across possessivky, making no move to press her body into yours like you’d anticipated, though the her simple presence was enough to assert ownership. When she pulled the popsicle away from her lips, she tilted it over your body, watching calmly as red droplets of thawed syrup fell against the exposed skin of your chest and belly. You shivered, a displeased whine filling the air that had been silent aside from the sounds of rippling water for so long. “I said: Shut. Up.”

“Why don’t you make me then!” You argued, kicking out in an attempt to rile her up, only to be captured by her strong grip before the sole of your foot could make contact with her thigh. You yelped in surprise when she pulled you down, your head falling onto the lower section of the lounge chair, your knees bent as your uncaptured foot remained steadily on the edge of the chair.

Her lips were on yours in a bruising kiss before you could recover from the abrupt change in position, her body hovering above yours as to not rub against the syrup slowly trickling down your body and staining your bikini top. Her lips were cold against yours, and as she descended down your body, shivers erupted across your spine, not only from the sensation of her icy lips against your pulse point, but in anticipation. Instinctively your thighs fell open, welcoming her body between them, which she appreciated and made sure to acknowledge. You moaned pathetically when her core ground into yours, her mound appling an addictive pressure to your clit.

“Daddy-” You whimpered, your bratty exterior melting away faster than your popsicle as her fingers worked to unravel the knot holding your bikini in place at the nape of your neck, her tongue following the trail of vibrant red syrup down your exposed breast. You gasped when the flimsy material was discarded, her lips wasting no time before they captured your nipple, her teeth biting down on the pebbled bud deliciously hard. A whimpered whine alerted Wanda of your current predicament, yet all the redhead offered was an amused laugh before she dove head first into the water again.

“Do you know what you were doing to me, utenok? Do you know how badly I wanted to come over here and replace that fucking popsicle? You’re all bark and no bite. The second Daddy’s lips are on those needy little nipples all you can do is whine. It’s pathetic.” She sneered, her tone laced with calculated mockery as she kept a firm grip on the stick of your treat, apparently not yet done with it.

Your bottoms were the next thing to go, leaving your body dressed in only a pair of designer sunglasses and red syrup. The last thing you’d been expecting was for her to bite the rest of your ice pop off the stick, swallowing it whole and attacking your unsuspecting cunt, but you watched it happen as if the world was in slow motion, felt the sensations creep into your bones as if they were merely in a movie, but all at once it caught up to you, and the sheer shock of her cold mouth against your hot center had your back arching off the lounge chair, inadvertently pushing your center farther into her face.

She lapped at your cunt with fervent motions. Her teeth nipped, her lips suckled, and her tongue; there were no words to describe the sensations her tongue provoked as she plunged it deep within your core, massaging your sensitive inner walls and your g-spot before she allowed it to soothe your clit with harsh stroke and flicks. Your moans were breathy as you grasped at her hair, pulling harshly at red curls that tickled your thighs as they fell over her shoulders, not sodden with water like Wandas, although for a fleeting second you wondered what it would feel like to have the saturated woman undoing you so passionately.

“Daddy!” You cried out when you felt the approaching pleasure of your orgasm building, your hands pushing at her head, unsure of what you craved more of and what was entirely too much. You whimpered when you felt the stretch of her fingers coming home to your pussy, allowing you no adjustment period as two fingers plunged deep into your cunt, replacing her tongue that instead sought out your tingling bud of hypersensitive nerves. “Daddy! Daddy!” Her name was a sacred mantra on your lips, falling into the air as you writhed beneath her strong grip, attempting to drive her farther into your body.

“You gonna cum? Are you gonna cum for me, parshivets? My filthy fucking girl, getting fucked outside, where anyone can hear you? Is that what you want? You want Agatha to hear you? I bet her windows open. I bet she’s inside, sitting at her table trying to read, but she can’t because all she can hear are your desperate fucking moans as your Daddy fucks you.” Natasha’s words sent vibrations through your core, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, though she never permitted it. She never once gave you the answer you needed to fully enjoy it, and fiercely, you fought off your approaching orgasm because of that silent denial.

When her fingers curled into you, massaging that delicate spot that had you seeing stars, you almost begged for her to stop, to lighten up, but before you could, she gave you the one thing you needed. “Cum for me. Make a mess.” Natasha encouraged, rapturing your pulsating clit and spasming walls, drinking all of your pleasure before she pulled away, her mouth glistening, her fingers sparkling. You gasped for breath, chest rising and falling as you panted, the heat only heightening your breathlessness. “You don’t know how long I’ve been holding out for. Wanda thought I’d break the second you unwrapped that fucking popsicle.”

Sheepishly, you giggled softly, readjusting your sunglasses when Natasha stood up and moved aside, the sun falling over your body once more. “I didn’t realize until you came over here. I wasn’t even doing it on purpose.” You admitted, though Natasha had already known that.

“Oh, I know. You’re just too fucking tempting for your own good.” She giggled, kissing your lips sweetly, your arousal still coating her tongue as she licked at your lips teasingly. When she pulled away, she glanced down at the stick in her hands, a soft laugh falling off her lips. “Why did the book join the police force?”

“He wanted to be undercover!” Wanda bellowed from the pool, apparently honed in on your conversation despite how frequently she disappeared beneath the welcoming water.

“I’m all sticky now.” You pouted, realizing that the syrup, despite being licked off, had left a reside on your skin.

“I guess you’ll just have to join us then.” Before you could acknowledge her, Natasha had picked you up in her arms, your bathing suit still discarded on the grass in a messy heap of fabric, although the picket fence around the property prevented you from being seen, so it didn’t matter much if you out it back on or not. You shrieked when you realized what she was doing, but before you could plead for your freedom, she’d dropped you into the deep end.

“Nat!” You scolded when you resurfaced, your freshly washed hair now soiled by the salt water that dampened it.

“Oops?” Your girlfriend sang sweetly, jumping in right beside you, capturing you in her tight embrace with faux sympathy. “Go get Wanda.” She whispered in your ear, and that was enough to win her forgiveness, immediately seeking out your other girlfriend who pretended to despise the way you clung to her like a koala.

“I love you.” You mumbled against her lips, catching her by surprise though not an unpleasant one.

“I thought I got you strawberry. Sorry, baby.” She apologized softly, holding tightly to your naked ass, giving it a teasing spank beneath the water.

“That’s okay. Cherry’s Nat’s favorite.”

[rafesfavgirl]

covered in you — r. cameron

part 1. this isn’t technically a part 2, but definitely could be, so take it how you want it ;) enjoyyyyy

❝ oh, i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland my house of stone, your ivy grows and now i'm covered in you ❞

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

context: for the first time since you and jj broke up (you found out he was cheating on you with kie), you go out to a party on figure eight, where a certain blond kook finds you.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. revenge sex (i don't condone… unless it's with rafe ofc), p in v sex, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering, slight spanking, SMUT with little to no plot

"well, well, who do we have here?" you hear a familiar drawl while sitting at the egde of some kook's pool wearing only your bikini, your feet hanging in the water.

you tilt your head up and roll your eyes, going back to sipping on your drink.

he chuckles at your choice to ignore him. "y/n y/l/n," your name leaves his mouth as he moves to sit beside you. "what brings you to this side of the island?"

"what's it to you, cameron?" you ask, turning your head towards him.

"no reason," he shrugs, sipping on his own drink. "just figured you'd be busy with that loser pogue boyfriend of yours."

"well… not that it's any of your business, but we broke up two weeks ago," you tell him.

you weren't really sure why you did, but it must've had something to do with the alcohol currently running through your system.

a snicker falls from his lips. "oh, shit."

"i'm so glad you find that amusing," you say.

"no, no, it's not that," he stops laughing, now locking your eyes with his. "it's just…"

"what?"

"you are so out of maybank's league," he says. "i'm surprised you even gave him a chance."

"you really think so?" you ask, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "pogue status and all?"

had he always been so sweet?

"oh yeah," he nods. "guy's a fucking idiot."

your eyes trail over his face, half-expecting him to be joking, before trailing down the rest of him from his broad shoulders to his sculpted arms, his strong chest, and finally, his defined abs.

fuck. were you seriously hot for rafe cameron right now?

the vodka taking over you, your next few words catch him by surprise. "you wanna get out of here?"

a smirk playing at his lips, he stands up and holds a hand out to you. "come on," he nods his head to the side. "my truck's outside."

—

"god, maybank fucked up," rafe says between kisses, his hands trailing all over your body as you grinded your hips against his.

you let out a giggle and throw your head back, your hands tugging on his hair as he sucks softly on your neck.

"you got a condom?" you ask, your fingers tangling through his hair.

he reaches towards the center console, and opens it, pulling out a small blue wrapper. "right here," he pulls his lips away from you and holds the condom up between you, a smirk on his lips. "get in the back."

you happily oblige and move from his lap to go between the two front seats, over the console and into the backseat.

rafe quickly hops out of the car and opens the passenger seat to join you, closing and locking it behind him.

"fuckkkk baby," he says, his eyes glazing over your bikini body from the way the small fabric of your triangular top clung to your breasts, to your exposed stomach, and finally, the spot between your legs, which was desperately aching for his touch.

"shut up and kiss me," you snake a hand behind his neck to pull him in for a passionate kiss, his mouth parting to give your tongue access to dance with his.

his hand trails up your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as he stops by your hip and fingers the tie of your bikini bottom.

he slowly unties the string while you untie the other and lift your hips slightly to let him rip them off your body.

"shitttt y/n," he drawls against you, a finger swiping up your soaked cunt. "you're so wet."

"mhm," you nod, fingers gripping at his hair.

his thumb begins rubbing small circles on your clit, eliciting a small moan from your mouth.

he smirks against your lips. "you like that baby?"

"more…" you moan. "rafe…" kiss. "please."

he slips a finger into you, your mouth dropping open when he curls it inside you.

"say my name again, doll," he says, his lips connecting to your neck as you tilt you head back in pleasure.

he adds another finger, and begins slipping them in and out of you, the sound of your squelching juices filling the truck.

"rafe— fuck," you moan, closing your eyes. "just like that."

he continues at a slow pace before picking up the speed, his thumb working relentlessly on your clit. your orgasm begins to build in your core, one hand gripping tightly onto his shoulder as you feel yourself get closer and closer.

it's not long before your body is trembling and you come undone on his fingers, a deep chuckle emerging from his lips.

"damn baby," he smirks at your state and brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off of them. "you're sweet."

panting and coming down from your high, you let your back rest back against the seat, facing forward. "give me a second."

"oh, no, no, no," he tuts, leaning his head in towards your ear, as his hand reaches down to rid his bottom half of his shorts. his teeth grazes your ear in a nibble, causing you to tilt your head against him, while he opens the condom wrapper and slips it onto his long, hard cock. "i still need to see you ride me, pretty girl."

his arm snakes around your waist, grabbing your hip to swing your leg over him, putting you in a straddling position, your eyes only focused on him.

he looks down between the two of you, and positions his cock at your center, a moan escaping your lips at the slight contact.

slowly, but surely, he presses your hips down against him, every inch of his dick filling you up.

"fuckkk, you're so tight," he groans, throwing his head back on the seat as you lean down to pepper kisses on his neck.

"that feel good?" you ask, slowly beginning to bounce your ass on him. 

up. down. up. down.

"so so good," he says, a hand trailing up your back to tangle into your hair.

his other hand keeps you steady, his cock slipping in and out of you at a good pace.

"pull my hair," you whisper against his neck, and he does—tugging on your hair and making your head tilt back.

that elevates the pleasure and you begin bouncing faster on him, his hand gripping your ass tightly.

"just like that, baby," he groans, looking down to see himself going in and out of you. "just like that."

when you begin to slow down again, your thighs wanting to give up, he pulls you off of him. "turn around."

you do as your told, the alcohol and pleasure mixing together as you push your ass up in the air and lay your head against the seat.

"this is mine, now," he smacks your ass as you do, and repositions himself behind you, one knee on the seat as he aligns his dick with your cunt again. "you got that?"

he pushes into you without warning and leans his body down against yours. "who's ass is this?" he lays another smack on it, and you just know there's a red mark on it now.

"yours, rafe," you moan, as he begins ramming into you.

"that's right, pretty girl," a hand slips under you and grabs one of your tits, the fabric of your bikini top moving to the side as he twirls a finger around your hard nipple.

"so so good, rafe," you mewl, making him fuck you faster at the sound of you moaning his name.

another orgasm begins to build up inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"yes, rafe," you moan. "keep going."

he does just that, sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass ringing loud and clear.

"cum with me, doll," he whispers against your ear, as you reach your high.

he follows soon after you, his body falling limp against yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

"we're definitely doing this again."

since i couldn't help myself, here's part 2/3.

safe to say i'm never listening to this song the same way again. reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

[random-brushstrokes]

Gerardo Dottori - City on Fire (1926)

Incendio Città (City on Fire) is regarded as one of Gerardo Dottori’s masterpieces. Oral tradition has it that the painting depicts a fire which broke out in the historical centre of the city of Perugia and which Dottori saw as he was returning from a hunting party in the hills. The flames, with triangular geometrical shapes inspired by Balla, burst from the centre of the painting and are devouring a medieval town that can be recognised as a stylised version of Perugia. The town is symbolised by what appears to be the pointed tower of the San Pietro Cathedral and immediately behind it (in the far background, emerging from billowing clouds of smoke) the truncated bell tower of the Basilica of San Domenico. (source)

[chlorinecake]

It's sad you haven't written that much for sunoo

𐙚 — 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 | 𝐤.𝐬𝐧

▹ PAIRING: boyfriend ! sunoo x girlfriend ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: While on a picnic date with your boyfriend in honor of your one year anniversary together, things take an unexpected turn as one simple touch leads to another...

▹ WARNINGS: TOUCH DEPRIVED SUNOO who can't help but leave marks all over your neck and thighs, fluff mixed with super messy smut, fingering + oral (f. r), handjob, protected sex (love that for them), tit and spit play, exhibitionism, mentions of food

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.5k

“You brought ice cream to our picnic date in the summer?”

“Yes... and you wrote me a love letter,” Sunoo replied frankly, the gentle park breeze blowing his wavy bangs to the side of his face slightly... “of course I appreciate the gesture, baby, but why go through all that trouble of trying to hide it from me?”

His question made a memory resurface in the back of your mind.

One from earlier this morning when you threw a pillow at his face in an attempt to sneak away with the letter undetected.

Not one of your best moments, you'll admit, but he took it lightly anyways, laughing off the confusion your strange behavior brought about...

“You weren’t supposed to come back home til tomorrow, Sunoo, and I wanted to surprise you…” your voice trailed off just as your boyfriend rested his hand at your thigh, caressing the flesh in a soothing manner…

“I wanted to make it more special,” you went on, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the way he suddenly tilted his head at you, almost as if cooing at your worried confession.

“____… what could be more special than a letter with your sweet kisses all over it?” Sunoo asked, gaze falling to your lips for a second before his eyes flicked back up, displaying his comforting smile.

“Just open it already,” you whined playfully, making your boyfriend giggle a bit at your impatience.

“Wait, I wanna guess what’s inside first!” He paused excitedly, looking to the clouds as he sat in thought…

“Hmm,” Sunoo hummed, feeling through the envelope with his fingers to see if it'd give him any clues… “are these... condoms?!!”

“What!? No! Why would I give you such a thing!?” You laughed out loud, giving the park a brief scan to see if anyone was around to have heard your boyfriend's wild revelation.

“Relax, ____... nobody’s watching the romantic couple on their picnic date,” Sunoo reassured with a light-hearted chuckle, running his hand a little higher on your thigh this time, making your breath hitch slightly.

What was getting into him today?...

“Righttt... so it’s just us and the trees now, huh?” You asked sarcastically, just as a random hiker came walking up the trail a few feet behind you two.

“Yup!” Sunoo answered confidently, letting his touch leave your skin, “just us, the trees... and no protection…”

Tear ˎˊ˗ ...

Sunoo tore open the triangular flap that once sealed the envelope, opening the paper-pocket to reveal a set of tiny squares poking back at him…

“Wow,” his voice started, a feigned shock to his tone, “you must really wanna take me raw after this…”

“Oh my God, you’re being such a slut today,” you whisper-yelled, smacking his shoulder playfully before taking the envelope from his grasp, shaking out the contents into his open palm.

“They’re P o l a r o i d s,” you enunciated slowly, “of us, baby...” you continued with a smile, watching as he brought each photo to his face, one by one to examine them...

“Aww,” Sunoo pouted, feeling his own heart warm up at the burst of memories. “Thank you, love… this is such a sweet anniversary gift,” he said, leaning forward to hug you, his weight accidentally overtaking you to the point where your back fell against the picnic mat with a soft thud.

It wasn't unusual for Sunoo to underestimate his strength, especially whenever he got excited and wanted to show you his affection... still, it's something that he always felt bad about doing...

“____, I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to...” your boyfriend's initially apologetic voice trailed off, all thanks to the mistakably erotic sound that slipped past your lips while caged beneath him.

“S-Sunoo… it's okay,” you stammered nervously, feeling his thigh brush up against your core as he adjusted him position, a small wet spot from your soaked panties now marking his jeans.

You couldn't think of anything to say, especially not with the way your sundress was hiked up now, putting your hips and bottom on full display.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you were met with the wet sight yourself now, Sunoo’s flexed thigh doing nothing but make things worse for the ache growing inside you...

“T-that's not what I think it is... right?”

Your boyfriend's voice came out quietly as a delayed silence followed right after, his eyes staying fixed on you as you raised to sit on your knees now.

You put a hand to his chest, pushing his back against the picnic mat now before leaning on top of him and whispering, “Stop staring and just kiss me already…”

Sunoo almost couldn't believe those words had left your mouth so smoothly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with anticipation as his eyes fell back to your lips.

Your gorgeous, kissable lips...

“And if anyone sees us?” He asked with a slight rasp to his voice, eyes sparkling beneath the sunlight as you traced the side of his face with a finger...

“Then they can cry about it…”

That's all it took before you two started kissing, both of your eyes fluttering shut as gentle sounds of pleasure were exchanged by the tips of your tongues.

You felt one of his hands find the side of your face and drift down to your neck, his touch gripping just enough at your throat for the pressure to be noticeable, but not overwhelming.

“Been wanting to do this since we got here,” Sunoo groaned, a little weak yet heavy at the end as you broke away from the kiss, meeting his eyes with your own lovestruck ones as you noticed his touch wandered lower, pulling your sundress over the curve of your hips again, tugging at your panties.

“Wanna get these off of you so bad, baby,” your boyfriend said breathlessly, your legs wasted no time in moving just enough for him to slip your panties down and toss them.

“Much better,” you hummed, letting your lips find his again in an even more hungry kiss than before as you felt his fingers ghost over your folds, circling your clit in a way that had you twitching almost instantly.

Something about the way he kissed you in this moment was so raw and greedy, a bit of spit dribbling down the side of both your mouths, only for you two to take turns licking it back up with your tongues.

And he was gathering so much of your slick on his fingers, too, making your clit throb with need as he kept toying with it, your hips subconsciously rocking against his fingers as you grew closer and closer.

“You're making such a mess of me, Sunoo,” you said in between kissing him, his mouth traveling to your neck where he sucked even harder against your flesh, groaning against your skin.

“Can't help it when you taste so sweet, love,” is all he managed to say before rolling you over on your back and taking dominance again, your body being sprawled out face-up on the picnic mat as he started to pepper kisses down from your jaw, to your tits, before finally reaching your swollen cunt.

You couldn't help but close your thighs around his head, even though it was only a matter of time before he forced them open again, taking a break to finger your pussy while marking the expanse of your thighs, holding intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Could play with your pussy all day, baby,” he mumbled against you, moving from your thigh to lick a stripe up the middle of your core, “might have to beg me to stop...”

“F-fuck,” you cried out, arching your back at the way your core trembled thanks to his skilled fingers curling inside you, “I'm so close, baby...”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, looking you straight in the eye again while still fucking you with his digits, “gonna cream on my fingers, baby?... clench that pretty pussy as you cum for me?”

A string of desperate yes's spilled from your lips only to get caught in your throat, your teary eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt yourself release from the inside out, shaking from the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

“That's it baby... let it all out,” Sunoo cooed, fingers not ceasing in fucking your hole until you reached your hand down to stop his wrist from moving.

Sunoo just stared at you for a second... and even though he knew you hated when he did that, he couldn't help it. You just looked so beautiful to him right now. Cheeks a flushed hue from your orgasm, covered in his marks from your chest to your thighs...

Using his free hand, Sunoo reach for the picnic basket, digging under a few things before pulling out a shiny gold package.

A condom.

“Babe, you... you planned this?” You asked with a glint of amusement to your voice, body still moving in slow-motion as you recovered from your first orgasm.

“Hey, don't judge me,” he smiled softly, tossing the condom in the middle of you two as he got started with unbuckling his pants, “you can put it on me, if you like...”

Timidly, you crawled towards your boyfriend on all fours, thankful to God that you didn't flinch once his dick sprung out from the confines of his boxers, nearly hitting you in the face given how hard it was.

Still, there was something about the subtle look of shock on your face that made Sunoo feel good about himself, reaching out a hand to caress your head as you tried opening the package with your nails.

“Just use your teeth, love,” Sunoo suggested, just as you took the plastic in your mouth, tearing it away with ease.

Pulling out the ring of rubber, you aligned it over his tip first, sliding it down in a stroking motion.

It doesn't take long before you have the whole condom slid down his shaft, but your ministrations don't stop there.

You kept pumping him in long, drawn out movements, experimenting with pressures and slightly escalating the speed with each stroke.

And it didn’t take long before he started moaning all loud and shamelessly, biting his lip with slightly screwed brows as you continued to jerk his cock in your hand, caressing his thigh with your free hand to help him relax.

“Sh-shit,” Sunoo cursed beneath his breath, eyes glued to the way you fisting his length, your hickey-stained cleavage coming into view as your sundress fell further down your shoulders with gravity.

The whole sight was just so intoxicating to him, especially coupled with the sensation of your fingers wrapped around him.

It was only a matter of time before you had him coming undone, filling the condom with his load as you started to stroke him more slowly now, somehow craving his dick even more.

He was a panting mess, pretty chest heaving beneath his shirt as you sat up on your knees now, crawling over to straddle his lap.

His lust-ridden eyes watched you the entire time, too, pants still lazily hanging around his thighs as you untied the bow keeping the top of your sundress together, revealing almost your full chest to him.

He didn’t hesitate to start groping your chest, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands as you humped against his lap, sliding your slick folds over his wrapped dick and shivering from the returned stimulation.

You moaned at his actions, clinging onto your boyfriend’s shirt at the sudden feeling of his tip prodding at your entrance.

“God, I need to be inside you so bad, ____... need to feel you taking me nice and slow...” Sunoo practically mewled against your lips, the desperation of words making your pussy clench around nothing.

You let your hips grind against his length even faster now, despite how you both were extremely sensitive at this point.

You didn’t expect one fleeting kiss to get you here… a slimy, moaning mess in your boyfriend's lap all in the middle of nature… but you were too far gone to turn back now, and besides… something about the risk of being caught like this was a turn on for you, anyways…

Reaching down for his dick, you let the head find your hole again before slowly feeling him slide past your ridged walls, shaky sighs coming from both your lips now…

You two stayed like that for a few moments, too, simply basking in each other’s closeness until you got ready to move, Sunoo’s delicate hands resting at your hips, eventually guiding your speed.

“S-Sunoo,” you started weakly, thighs trembling at the way his tip grazed your sweet spot as he rocked you back and forth against him, “we’re not gonna last very long in a state like this…”

Your sultry words sounded like fuzz in his brain for a second, his body being too pleasure drunk to focus on anything other than the way your perfect pussy was taking him.

You kept your hands secure at his shoulders, grinding against him the best your tired legs could manage as his lips connected to the skin below your ear, speaking the feathery words: “Might as well make it worth it, then…”

That's when your boyfriend let his back fall against the picnic mat, releasing his grip from your hips, only to find your hands instead, connecting you both by your latticed fingers.

His pelvis snapped up to help you both reach your highs faster, your chest heaving with emotions as you gasped at the feeling of his cock plunging inside you so well, a mere matter of seconds passing before your orgasms hit you both like a crashing wave.

Sweet mmm's and ahh's of pleasure left both your squirming bodies, Sunoo's thighs twitching beneath you as your walls clenched down on his length, your climax taking it's sweet time to leave you.

You felt his cum slowly fill up the condom from inside you, gentle pants escaping his swollen lips as your hands stayed intertwined, eyes slightly teary beneath the shining sun.

“I can't believe we just did that in public,” you sighed, lifting your hips from his to free yourself from the stimulation, helping yourself to removing the now filled rubber from your boyfriend's dick and tossing it in a picnic napkin.

Sunoo smiled at your choice of words before sitting back up to readjust his pants, still feeling a bit wobbly in his movements after everything that just happened.

“And I'm more than open to doing this again,” he said, crawling towards you on the mat to help re-tie the bow at the top of your dress, “… and again, and again, and again...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you chuckled with a smile, watching his hands finish up each bow before he creating a small distance between you, placing the picnic basket in the center of the mat and flipping open it's lid, his hair slightly disheveled as he asked, “In the mood for some ice cream soup?”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 𐙚 | To the anon at the very top of this post, I hope you enjoyed what I came up for with for everyone’s favorite sunny boy !! That is, if you ever happen to cross paths with my blog again >< !!

TAGLIST 𐙚 | @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr + link to my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested !!

[thearchivesofhalcyon]

DEMO (Updated: 14/02 / Chapter Two) | FEEDBACK FORM

You are living a good life, you can’t complain. As a government agent who works for a national security intelligence firm called Halcyon Tech, your position is the beginning of a bright future ahead and a name to hold, and you’re happy with that until your boss decides that it’s time for the Government and the Company to part ways. It was the day of your 24th birthday when you were caught in the middle of a war you didn’t want to be. And as if the gunshots were fireworks, they wished you a Happy Birthday, turning your life upside down. Now you find yourself entangled in a conspiracy theory that you thought could only be real in movies, and you have to fight against that to have your life back together along with your new team formed with old and new partners. Are you willing to protect the Halcyon secrets with your life? Or are you going to blow them up for the world to see?

Rating: 16+.

Content Warnings: Violence, Death, Alcohol, Sexual Content, Strong Language.

Select your gender, pronouns, appearance, sexuality, personality and backstory through your choices.

Have a little companion robot!

Be a proud owner of a pet that suits you, or be a plant parent.

Choose to take revenge on the ones who got in your way, or help them clean up the mess you all are involved in.

Build up your goals and motivations and see them grow real, or drag you to your failure.

Romance and befriend five companions: the stoic CEO of the Halcyon Tech Company; your charismatic, but stubborn best friend and sidekick; your unpredictable, ambiguous and charming commander; a shy, but overburdened agent with a mysterious past; and an genius with an easy-going personality and a tendency to make the wrong choices.

CONNOR/CORNELIA SUTTER | 28 | July 17th | PLAYLIST

While Connor has short straight black hair, Cornelia uses her hair in a short classic bob blunt cut, both sharing a bang that falls exactly at the beginning of their eyebrow. They have a pointed nose with triangular shape, dark eyes slightly angled to the sides with a gray glow in them, just like the shade of the clouds when a storm is forming. You also always take notice of the little mole under their right eye. They have sharp features, pale skin, and a slender body. Connor is 6'1", and Cornelia is 5'7".

Professional, reserved and distant, it’s a little too hard to extract any information from them besides what they care to give you about work since they’re undoubtedly cold every time anyone tries to approach. You always think they probably don’t have a life, since they often call you late at night for missions.

OLIVER/OLIVIA MADDOX | 26 | August 9th | PLAYLIST

Their appearance is made to stand out, especially due their height, Oliver is 6'4" and Olivia is 5'11", and their strong arms and broad shoulders. Their skin is tanned for the time they spend in the sun training, and while Oliver has straight short light brown hair although kinda messy, Olivia has shoulder length hair that often is seen in a messy ponytail, with a lot of strands escaping and covering her soft features. Their eyes are in a gentle amber shade, with long and charming eyelashes. They’ve a perfect smile with protuberant fangs.

Your partner in crime, and against crime too. Their charm is hard to resist, and they know how to use it. Without this facade, they are fiercely competitive and tease you all the time, being annoyingly possessive and protective.

ELLIOT/ELEONORA ADAMANTIS | 31 | September 7th | PLAYLIST

Elliot has medium length dark brown hair with a ghostly bunch of curls, and Eleonora has wavy long hair that ends around her waist, along with a long bang. They have eyes with a mix of green and brown depending on the light, but often the green wins. They are tall, Elliot is 6'2" and Eleonora is 5'9", and their body is noticeably muscular, with broad shoulders and back. Their left eyebrow is decorated with an evident scar, and normally Elliot has a bit of stubble on his chin and jaw.

Blunt, sarcastic and unpredictable, something in your mind always says that you shouldn’t trust them. They have the smile of someone who’s hiding the world, but still can convince you to do anything for them. You really don’t know how they manage to be so popular and part of the government, since they really don’t look like they care about people.

ALEC/ALEXA ORION | 25 | April 12th | PLAYLIST

They both have light blond hair, but in Alec’s case it is combed back with so much care that you don’t really know if his hair is straight or it’s just the gel, while Alexa is always with her wavy hair secured in a perfect bun. Sky blue eyes, beige skin with some freckles along their nose bridge. Medium height, Alec with 5'8" and Alexa with 5'4", skinny and with a vulnerable aura.

They always seem to be on edge. Contrary to what you might think about them because of their appearance, they’re a little stressed and impatient, and don’t like to be judged as a weak person. Even so, they usually try to hide their temper and keep a cool attitude — although it doesn’t work most of the time.

LUKE/LUNA ADLER | 22 | January 23rd | PLAYLIST

Dark brown and perfect clear skin, short height, Luke with 5'5" and Luna with 5'1", and a chubby frame. Luke has wavy shoulder length dark red hair, and Luna has long micro braids down until her waist, also dark red. Their irises are big enough to make the rich tone of their light green eye color almost glow, contrasting with the deep dark circles under their eyes. They have a few tattoos on their arms and puffy adorable cheeks.

They like to talk, especially when it’s something about their job or anything they understand well to form an opinion. Quick-minded, empathetic and perceptive, it’s hard to hide something from them, but it’s not like you need to. They are like a child. Or like a dog. Or like the two of them: a puppy.

[rileyslibrary]

The Log Cabin: Wish and Hope

Synopsis: You go on a vacation with the Lieutenant at his log cabin.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2,617

A/N:

Wholesome fluff.

This is the final part of the story, but you can also read it as a one-shot. (Part 1 & Part 2 if you’re interested)

The inspiration behind the exterior/interior of the cabin.

Also, writing this chapter was quite the journey.

———————————————————————

The sun has almost set by the time you reach your destination.

Simon parks the car at the bottom of the hill, where the road ends, marking the boundary between civilisation and the wilderness. He retrieves his balaclava from the back seat’s pocket and scans the surroundings before getting out of the car.

“Get the axe and Bourbon from the backseat,” he instructs as he steps out.

You follow his directive, picking up the well-worn axe and a bottle of amber liquid from the backseat.

Simon slings his rucksack over his shoulder and tucks his mask into one of the front pockets. He takes your bag with one hand and a red toolbox from the car’s floor with the other.

You show him the axe and Bourbon from across the car, shaking both in your hands. With your supplies gathered, you exchange a nod—a habit you picked up from the field—and begin your way up the hill, leaving the car behind.

———————————————————————

You walk beside him, but he’s gaining ground quickly. He looks unfazed by the long journey—as if he hadn’t spent the entire day driving.

You, on the other hand, are exhausted. Each stride feels heavier on your legs, and the uneven path doesn’t help. The moss cushions your steps, making it difficult to gauge the depth of the ground beneath you.

Sometimes, you stumble, and he glances back to check on you. He looks you up and down, assessing you, before returning his attention to the trail ahead.

“Tired?” he asks, which feels more like a rhetorical question—an observation, a statement—than as a genuine concern.

You shake your head. Fatigue clouds your thoughts, and you fail to register that he can’t perceive your nonverbal response. He turns around once more, waiting for an answer.

“Nope,” you reply, forcing yourself to stand a bit taller. “Not tired at all.”

His gaze shifts forward, and you slump.

You try to focus on your senses, hoping to distract your mind until you reach the cabin. You look up at the tree branches, outlined by the fading light, casting a dark shadow above you. You listen to the birds calling, the insects responding, and a stream nearby. You take a deep breath, smelling the pine and wet ground. It seems like it rained not long ago. It’s a bit chilly. You wonder why you didn’t bring your jacket, only to recall that it’s August. Then you realise it’s August but in the Scottish woodlands.

———————————————————————

You must have walked for another fifteen minutes before the cabin finally reveals itself. It’s almost dark now, but you can see the worn wood that graces it. The hut is tiny, way smaller than you imagined, with a triangular roof and a chimney. How does one fit a fireplace in there? How does he fit in there? How are you both going to fit in there?

A small front porch extends from the cabin’s entrance, complete with a lone chair and a lantern hung next to the door. A serene pond reflects the darkening sky nearby, its surface motionless, still, mimicking the night.

As you approach the cabin, you notice a smaller room that you assume to be the toilet—a logical consideration given the cabin’s size. An open shower is nearby, next to a tree, shielded by strategically placed vertical logs for privacy.

Simon places your bags on the porch and retrieves the lantern. He fills it with fuel, lights it up, and hands it to you. He unlocks the cabin door, pushes it open, and motions with his head for you to take the first step inside.

It’s cosy. Intimate. How will he handle such closeness?

A two-seater brown leather sofa invites you to relax while a small fireplace stands against the wall. A compact table with a lone chair marks the boundary between the living room and the kitchen, which consists of a fire stove, a single counter, and exposed cabinets stocked with plates, cups, and utensils.

You concentrate on a nook at the far end of the kitchen, where a double bed is placed. It’s so snug it looks like the room was built around it. A small window in the bed’s headboard frames a view of the outside shower.

“Did you build this by yourself?” You ask, placing the axe and the Bourbon on the table.

Simon’s head pops in from the doorway at the sound of your voice.

“What?” he asks.

“This,” you gesture to the cabin. “Did you build it on your own?”

He seems surprised by your question. “Me?” he points to himself. “Nah, I found it like this.”

“You found it like this,” you echo, raising your eyebrows.

“I bought it that way and made a few tweaks,” he explains as he places your bags on the sofa and proceeds to get into the details of his modifications.

You focus again on the interior, capturing the nuances he points out. The stove, the sofa, the solitary chair beside the table – they all reflect his choices. That’s him; you’ve never seen him like this. Or, at least, this side of him.

“Also installed a couple of solar panels; I’ll go check on ’em,” he concludes, grabbing a flashlight from the toolbox. “We eat when I come back, yeah?”

You nod, but he’s already heading out, leaving you alone in the cabin. You set the lantern on the kitchen table.

You want to rest, but the sofa is covered with bags and equipment, and you’re too weary to clear them away. The lone chair by the table doesn’t look like it would do any favours for your achy back. Instead, you opt for the bed. You sit on its edge and pat the mattress.

Thoughts bubble to the surface, and your mind focuses on a particular issue—the sleeping arrangements. Yes, you’re comrades who shared a bed out of necessity before, but that was a different scenario—now, sleeping together in a bed while on vacation? A shared vacation? That’s an entirely different matter.

As you reflect, your fingers graze the sheets. They’re soft—inviting. Leaning back, you sink into the mattress, its comfort drawing you in. The hiss of the lantern, paired with your breath, becomes a lullaby in the cabin’s silence. As the emotional strain and the tension in your body eases, the bed cradles you, its comfort pulling you deeper into its embrace. The day’s worries fade away with each breath. You close your eyes one last time for the day.

———————————————————————

The morning sun filters in through the bedroom window, gently nudging you awake. You blink, focusing on the wooden wall that stands inches away from your nose. You sit up slowly. Strange—your body isn’t positioned the way it was when you drifted off to sleep.

You turn at the empty space beside you; he is not there, yet the slightly flattened pillow and the tousled sheets hint that he has occupied that spot. There’s also a subtle change in your clothing; while you’re still dressed the same as yesterday, your shoes are missing. You wiggle your toes.

The sounds of the outdoors seep into the cabin, and you look out the window. Yesterday must have drained you completely. Sliding to the edge of the bed, you plant your bare feet onto the cool wooden floor, spying your shoes near the cabin entrance. As you approach them, you instinctively reach for Simon’s jacket, hanging over the chair. Wrapping yourself in it, you inhale deeply at its collar.

You slip into your shoes and open the cabin door. The brisk morning air greets you first, biting at your skin, and you hug Simon’s jacket tighter around you. A weird sound is coming from somewhere nearby that feels out of place from its surroundings.

Your eyes narrow toward the source—something by the pond. You shield your eyes from the sun’s glare, and the source becomes clearer. Simon stands at the pond’s edge, wearing a grey shirt that clings to his sweat-dampened chest. Gripping the axe with both hands, he raises it overhead, the blade briefly shining before descending with a solid thud. It bites into the wood and splits it in half with an audible crack. Then again. And again. And again.

Occasionally, he lets out a soft grunt as he swings the axe, releasing the tension from his body until he repeats the same movement. The sweat glistens on his skin, and his biceps flex with every lift, then relaxing with each hatch.

“Morning,” you finally say.

He pauses mid-swing and looks up. He sets the axe down against a log and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Dark patches are spreading from his underarms. He’s breathless, so he nods at you instead.

“What happened in there?” you ask, motioning towards the bed.

Simon’s lips curl up. A single droplet drips from the tip of his nose as he bends and picks up the axe again.

“You confused sleeping with dying; that’s what happened.”

You chuckle. “You couldn’t wake me up, huh?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “For someone who claims to be ‘not tired at all,’ you sure fell asleep like a rock,” he says, swinging the axe once more to split another log.

“Tea?” you offer.

“Please.”

You grin. “Beg a little, will you?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Careful now,” he warns you jokingly, giving the axe a casual twirl in his hand and keeping on working.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the kitchen. You grab a kettle, fill it with water, and place it on the stove. Opening the tea box, you browse the selection with your finger, then turn to search for Simon outside, thinking of asking him about his tea preference. However, he’s nowhere to be found. Redirecting your focus to the options, you speculate he’d be content with whatever you choose; he wouldn’t bring them here if he didn’t like them. You settle on Earl Grey.

As the water heats up, you ready the teapot with the tea blend and look out the window above the bed. There’s movement. You take a closer look.

Simon stands right by the shower. He slowly peels off his shirt, revealing his upper body inch by inch, and drapes it over the partition as he steps into the shower. His jeans and boxers follow suit, finding their place next to his shirt. He lifts his hand and turns on the shower head, finally releasing the water he yearns for after his hard work. His eyes shut as he lets the water flow down his body, starting from his head, tracing the line of his neck, and continuing down to his shoulders.

Did you lose your ability to breathe, or did time slow down? Does it matter? And, close your gaping mouth; you’ve seen nothing extraordinary. I, on the other hand, have seen every inch of him. Pathetic.

At least, that’s what the kettle appears to be screaming at you as it whistles for your attention. You remove it from the heat, pour it into the teapot and set it aside. You return to the window above the bed; Simon is no longer there.

You curse at the kettle.

———————————————————————

With the soothing warmth of tea inside you, you set out on a hiking adventure into the forest. It’s a familiar trail to Simon, yet the landscape seems untouched—whispering leaves, twittering birds, the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Sunlight filters through the foliage, draping the ground with a delicate pattern of golden lace. Moss and decomposing leaves mingle with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers to create a unique scent.

As you continue on the trail, you get captivated by an ancient tree standing alone, gnarled and weathered by time. Its roots grip the earth like they were there before your kind began to call this place home, and its branches reach for the sky as if praying to the gods. You touch its trunk and feel unworthy.

“Naychuh.” Simon’s voice breaks the silence. It takes a few seconds for you to register what he just said.

“Indeed,” you add. “Nature.”

“It’s amazing how they can withstand everything and remain so strong,” he observes, tracing the tree’s bark with his fingers. “Resilient.”

“I wish I were like that.” You murmur.

He averts his gaze, releasing his grip on the trunk. “The environment definitely helps,” he comments, shrugging. “Plant this tree in the Caribbean, and it’ll be dead in a week, but here?” He taps the trunk. “It flourishes.”

“Our environment isn’t very… flourishing, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he corrects you with a smile and motions towards the path ahead. “This way.”

The walk continues, each step leading you deeper into the woods. Neither of you utters another word. The nearby stream does all of the talking for you.

———————————————————————

The journey back to the cabin is easy; you both seem relaxed, no matter the distance you have walked. The forest’s inhabitants appear to switch shifts, preparing for the night; birds cease to chirp, and owls take their positions. Shadows lengthen, and the air carries a gentle chill, hinting at the approaching evening.

You’re filthy but content. Happy. You light the lantern and pull out fresh clothes from your bag.

Simon squats in front of the fire pit outside, preparing it for grilling. He piles the logs he cut earlier into the pit, tosses in some dried pine needles, and lights them up.

Two very different ways of getting burned stand before you. You step closer to him.

“Mind if I hit the showers?” you ask.

“Go ahead,” he says, nodding towards the enclosure.

“Promise you won’t look?”

“Not a fucking pervert like you are,” he jokes with a playful smile on his lips as he pokes the fire. “Spying from the windows.”

“I beg your pardon,” you snap, your face slowly turning red. “I wasn’t spying!”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t!” You retort and smile. “I was simply enjoying what nature had to offer.”

He stifles a chuckle and shakes his head. “We eat in 20,” he announces. “Go.”

———————————————————————

With the sun now entirely gone, the fire glows brighter against the darkness.

You sit side by side, close to the fire, content from the shared meal. Each of you holds a glass of Bourbon and looks up at the sky, admiring the shooting stars.

A chuckle escapes you, catching Simon’s attention.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitted together.

You look down at the glass in your hand, then back up at the sky.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “I just find it funny how trees stay resilient while stars fall.”

He follows your line of sight to the night sky.

“Trees fall, just like stars,” he says, swaying his glass. “And just like us.”

“Interesting perspective, Lieut—”

“Simon,”

“Interesting perspective, Simon.”

He nods. “We all fall when the time comes.” He whispers.

You tilt your head, studying his profile. He’s aware of your gaze, yet he doesn’t shy away.

“But every fall serves a purpose,” he continues. “Trees offer us warmth, for example.”

“And what about us?” You ask.

“We put ourselves on the line to protect others.”

“Is that what you think we do? Protect?”

“I try to find some reasoning behind it,” he admits, shrugging.

Your focus shifts back to the night sky.

“And what about stars?” you wonder. “What purpose do shooting stars hold? Creating a spectacle for us, the protectors?”

He takes a sip from his glass, a soft smile on his lips.

“They make us wish,” he murmurs. “They make us wish and hope.”

———————————————————————

[monstrousmuse]

Interesting details from the Day 6 promo:

‘WILL MEAT A GAIN’ is of course a reference to ‘We’ll Meet Again’.

(Not so sure about ‘Good Tom’s Meg’ lol…)

…

Is this a reference to ‘William’, Ford’s favourite constellation?:

Or could it also be a reference to the AMA, and how Bill would respond to every variation of his name under the sun.

…

The Saga continues…These promos do appear to be incredibly Ford-centric. I mean, on Day 6, we got The Song again, and an arrow pointing specifically at the number ‘six’…It’s both a reference to the countdown and…Sixer. (Bill Tries To Be Subtle For Once Challenge)

…

The clouds surrounding the moon also look vaguely triangular in shape.

[eightfish]

My thoughts this comic cover page design!

The idea for this cover was to show off the two main characters' dynamic with a dance-like, fight-like pose. I also wanted a wrap around cover so that there could be leeway in book thickness.

I did a few sketches with the concept:

I felt the final pose I came up with had the best balance with the text and a necessary "edgier" rather than "floatier" energy. The diagonal shape the characters make has movement while also fitting in the triangular title in the top left quite nicely. I'm also a fan how I managed to put in a bit of uncomfortable bloodiness and how Kou's hand is on the book's spine.

In the background I used the clouds that make an ambiguous night and day to create negative space for the title and back blurb. The buildings are there to show off the story's attention to setting, and also to provide some high-detail elements to balance out the lower-detail empty space the text sits in.

Anyway, this book is available to order now! It's a human-eating ghoul x ghoul hunter story. It's gorey and it's gay. Chomp chomp!

4 days left

Kickstarter link: http://kck.st/41EgELu

[minhosimthings]

Angels in Tibet

Symphony Smut Series Day 13: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Lyric: Louvre and Armani I like how you say it

Pairings: fiance!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, implied use of pheromone, bathroom sex, semi public sex, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, missionary, unprotected sex (not for you baby), mention of breeding, rough sex and I'm talking ROUGH, dom!Jay, sub!reader, fluffy in the beginning

A/N: Day 13 baby! 5 more oneshots to go and we'll be over. I just had to do a Paris fic with Jay cause IT'S JAY. @yunabi436 a gift for you darling

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Jay was a 'date to marry' guy. Which was very evident from the fact that he bought you your favourite flowers on your first date which he had asked you about the day before.

The ring on your finger never shone brighter than now, when Jay had proposed a pre-wedding holiday to Paris, even though you had begged him not to spend more money on you.

"What kind of a husband would I be if I didn't?" He reasoned, blocking your attempts to put in your credit card to chip in for the trip, "Plus you've always wanted to see the Louvre so we're going, no buts."

"Not even my butt?"

Paris was beautiful. Paris was amazing. Paris was amazing. But most of all, Paris had The Louvre.

A place you had been wanting to visit since you saw it in a magazine when you were seven. You had always hada knack for art history, which, due to parental pressure, you hadn't taken as a major in college. Jay knew that. And that's why he took you to see the triangular polycarbon (or atleast he guessed it was polycarbon) structure, where treasures beheld your eyes.

"You know the interesting thing about this painting-" you stared at all the beautiful swirls of colours on the frame in front of you, "is that even though it is more harder to paint than the painting opposite of it-" you glances at the crowd of people behind you, "It is still largely ignored."

"So you'd much rather analyse The Wedding Feast at Cana rather than The Mona Lisa herself?" Jay rested his chin on your shoulder, reading the brief introduction of the painter carved at the pedestal.

"Mona Lisa is a masterpiece I will admit. But this!" You gestured dramatically towards the painting with your hands, "This is magnificent."

"Darling as much as I would love to stand here and watch you talk about this painting, didn't you want to get a look at Psyche by Antonio Canova? And isn't that in the next room with the sculptures?"

"Oh yeah." You responded. Seeing all the artworks of the Louvre would take approximately 20 days and you were only here for a week. So you obliged and took Jay's hand casually strolling off to the next room.

Though you hadn't mentioned it, your nostrils had had a sense of misdirection throughout the entire time Jay strolled close to you. You had brushed it off as a thing of the atmosphere, continuing with your tour.

Unbeknownst to you however, earlier that day, Jay had rubbed some of his 'special' cologne onto his wrists and neck. You were a generally freaky person, and he knew that. So your everlasting wish to fuck in the bathroom of a museum was about to be fulfilled today.

"Jay ah-ah fuck."

Jay's got you pinned against him, back to chest, feet balanced atop the muscle of his thighs. Spread wide open, bare and exposed, helpless in the way he traps your throat between bicep and forearm.

“This what you had in mind for the bathroom of The Louvre?” he asks, circles a wet finger over your clit, a ghosting touch that leaves your hips canting upward. Almost frantic, a silent pleading, but he traps you steadfast.

It started as a small kiss. A peck. A brush of the lips so gentle you barely felt it until he pressed his mouth to yours fully. There was no tongue, nor any breathlessness when he pulled away and looked at you again. But you could feel the shift in the air. The drop in your stomach and sudden stillness in the room while a white noise clouded your head. 

You’re a little light-headed, blistered beneath the skin, needy and fidgeting. Maybe you want him to hold you still, to fit you tight against him, to fight against your struggle—something carnal deep down that gets off on his strength, the power you know he can wield over you.

Your vision begins to speckle and fizz, and pleasure coils blinding hot in the pit of your stomach. At his mercy, desperate for anything he’ll give you—the helplessness breaks you apart, soaks you between the legs. The sound of his pumping fingers is filthy and slick, and your cunt sucks him in. Begs more than your mouth ever could.

You meet each thrust of his fingers with a tilt of your hips, exhale a stuttering moan when he begins to grind the bulge of his cock against the curve of your ass. When he pulls you hard against his chest and whispers a string of praise into your ear.

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his finger pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your muffled scream echoing off the mirrors. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

This man was beautiful, so godsdamned beautiful.

And he was all yours.

"Can you take more darling?" Jay questioned, clutching your hips to keep you steady, admiring your naked back in the mirror behind you, "I can do it all night if you want."

Without warning, he shoved his cock into your pussy, hearing your muffled whimper as he'd done so. "quiet, don't wanna wake up the sculptures do we?" His own voice was strained as he scolded you, beginning to set his own pace. Unforgiving and harsh, making you lightheaded and dizzy.

You felt him right at your womb again and again and fucking again. You felt any semblance of your very sanity begin to melt away as he fucked you, so roughly that it almost had you begging for him to go easy on you.

He was fucking you like a thing void of a soul, like a rag doll. Every single time you felt him back inside, he pushed you deeper and deeper onto the marble. Your hands had felt useless, not even able to support your own weight. You offered them to him, feeling his lone hand take both of yours, anchoring himself to you without his pace even faltering. It was a reminder to you both that he's fucking huge, so strong and capable of easily overpowering you. It had you nearly sobbing, your insides squeezing him snugly.

Jay holds your stomach down and goes deeper. You squeal as you cum on his dick. He keeps going until eventually he slows down and cums, the warm feeling enveloping your pussy like a cocoon.

Jay looks up at your almost passed out figure and lets you rest your head on his shoulder as he pulls out.

"You doing okay baby?" Jay asks uncertainly, noticing how hard you were breathing.

"Park Jongsoeng how is our wedding day sex gonna beat this?" You joke, leaning against the cold marble. Thank heavens that the museum wasn't too busy today.

"Oh don't worry about that." Jay growls in your ear, squeezing your waist,

"I'll make sure to fuck a baby into you on that day."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

[synnamon-hearts]

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Okay... Okay... Okay... So I have an extension to this here about Ghostface Josh and Ghostface Chris...

NSFW down below! (Warning: Accidental sex with killers! Whoops! 🫢)

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Soooooo after the movie, you realize that these two boys make you feel the most safe. Seriously, they have been your rocks throughout this whole nightmare and you didn't worry one bit while hanging out with them for the night. I mean, you didn't even get a call from the killer so that must mean something, right? You are completely safe with them.

Something about the way these two make you feel has you think that it's making you begin to have feelings for them both. They are your knights in shining armor, and you can't take holding back how you feel anymore. So when the screen goes black, you take them both by the hand and tell them how you feel.

At first, Josh and Chris are shocked. They did so well to deceive you that you actually fell in love with them? This is awesome! It took so much to keep them from both smirking devilishly at your confession, and they did well to each give genuine responses.

"Oh, y/n! We are so glad you feel the same way. We've both wanted you for so long but we didn't know how to bring it up with you... You know, with everything that's been going on and all..."

"Yeah, y/n. We think you are great! It's hard not to fall for a girl as awesome as you are. Maybe... We could be something more?"

Josh and Chris would be lying if they said they didn't have some feelings for you too. Before the prank happened, they actually both wanted to be with you and would argue about who had more of a right to bag you quite often when nobody was around. Even now, they still think you are so adorable.

Just in more of a sadistic way, of course. The fear in your eyes when you get those horrific phone calls or get chased through the house by one of them is just so goddamn sweet. You've become a little more than a victim to them, but their little toy—a doll for them to control.

Before you know it, you are sandwiched between the two on Josh's large king sized bed, taking them both at the same time. Oh, it feels so heavenly. Each time one pulls out, the other thrusts in. No matter what, you are full to the brim and it feels so fucking good. Thoughts are no longer a thing in that pretty little head of yours as you get fucked silly by these two men.

Not only do you feel like you're on cloud 9 being between them right now, but you actually feel as though you are locked away in a small fortress that no evil can enter. You know you are protected from that nasty killer who had been threatening your life for what feels like so long now. You know that as long as you are with them, no harm will come your way.

When you all cum, it's a peaceful moment. You lay between them, spread out on Josh's chest while Chris lays on top of you, caging you between the two. You're feeling dazed from the intense high their cocks and passionate kisses brought you. The room is filled with nothing but overestimatulated groans and heavy ragged breaths, while silent thoughts hang in the air between the three of you.

However, while you relish in the thoughts of how safe and comfortable you feel in this moment, Josh and Chris have an opposite mindset. You are too out of it to see the wicked grins that grows on both of their lips as they share a knowing look.

You barely notice when Josh pulls out a small, white, triangular object from underneath his pillow and brings it up to his lips. At first, you think it's just a pack of cigarettes. That is until you hear a click and the familiar, dreadful voice of your enemy right in your ear.

"Surpriseeeee, y/n." He drawls out, a smirk thick in his tone. Your eyes widen as you look up at Chris, who smiles down at you with almost pride?

Josh tosses the voice changer to Chris. Josh's hold around your waist suddenly tightens as Chris speaks the next planned out line. "What's the matter, y/n? Looks like you seen a ghost."

Before you know it, you're hyperventilating. Suddenly the men who felt like your heroes, feel more like your hunters. And you are their caught prey. Nothing in life would have prepared you for a betrayal like this. You've spent so long running from this unknown person, only to find out that it was the two people you trusted the most. And now you can't get away. You are stuck to deal with the consequences of letting someone in...

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

I thought since Josh was more like the Billy in this situation and Chris was more like Stu for roles of who's in charge and stuff, it would be fun to switch Billy's line to Chris and Stu's line to Josh. I'm really liking this trope so far though so if anybody would like more, let me know!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[insomniamamma]

Hey @maggiemayhemnj! Tumblr ate the ask part way through writing this! This was a lot of fun to write!

Snow Day: Din Djarin & Grogu

A/N: Set between S1 and S2, as in before they crash on the ice planet. Wobbles back and forth between Din and Grogu's POV. Un-beta'd. Barely edited.

Warnings: Slightest hint of angst, because i can't help myself but 99.99% soft fluffy fluff. Just our clan of two playing in the snow.

Din wakes to the gabble of his charge, blunt claws tapping against the transparisteel windows. “It’s snow,” says Din, “You’ve never seen snow?” Those dark eyes rake over his visor and then flick away, ears and shoulders slump. “Not every world has snow,” says Din, “How about we go take a look?”

Grogu squirms at the feeling of socks and bantha hide booties over his feet. It’s very cold, Adika, and you are so much smaller than me. Grogu can’t always understand the sounds that the Mandalorian makes, but he never doubts what he feels from Din, never doubts Din’s care, and so only wiggles a little bit when Din works his feet into the booties. Grogu descends the ramp as he usually does, claws tapping against Din’s greaves, only this time his claws are blunted by mittens, and for a moment he is afraid and then he sees the wide expanse of shimmering white, ears pricking up, but there is nothing to hear except for his own heart, the soft crumping sound of his own steps, sensation of snow compacting beneath his feet, like walking through wet sand but not. It’s so quiet.

He’s not used to quiet anymore, accustomed to ship sounds, engine noise rattle and burble of much repaired life support and coolant systems. Peers up at Din, (has never seen Din’s face but the name echoed in his head the first time he laid eyes on the tall armored man, a sound like a bell and warmth like sun on his skin, like the smiles and laughs of long gone friends), watches as he holds the scope to his visor and scans. Grogu sees nothing but low dark clouds and distant trees laden with snow. Takes a few steps to feel the strange compression of it under his feet.

“It’s okay, Kiddo, there’s no large life forms in range. You can play. Go on.” The little one looks up at him, puzzled, and Din hunkers in the snow next to him.

“You can draw in it, see?” He extends a gloved finger and draws a flattened oval with two dots for eyes and elongate triangular ears. “That’s you.”

The child squeals and yanks a mitten off with his teeth, draws a flattened oval crossed with a t-shape. “That’s me! That looks just like me, ad’ika!”

“Eek?”

“Ad’ika means little one.” Din shakes his head, “I don’t know your name, so this will have to do for now.”

“Eek! Ih Eek patu!” Grogu leans into the warm weight of Din’s gloved hand ruffling the sparse fuzz on the top of his head.

“Check this out,” says Din, and rakes snow together with his fingers, squeezes it in his palms, opens his hands to reveal an irregular white sphere, tosses the snowball gently and it splats against the rough weave of the child’s robe and for a moment he is afraid but then the child laughs big and bright all crinkled eyes and sharp carnivore teeth, scraping up handfuls of snow and flinging them at Din, glittering arcs falling short. Ad’ika peers down at his empty, claws and frowns.

“Watch me,” he says, “Like this, see?” Din reaches and fills his hands with snow, feels impact against his helmet and half his visor blurred with melting slush, high reedy laughter overdriving his pickups. “You got me! Well done, Ad’ika!”

The ache of the cold in his knees makes him stand, dusting the snow from his armor, while his charge points at the sky and gabbles, bends and scoops him into his arms. “It’s snowing!” Fluffy white flakes drift down in slow, silent spirals. The baby pats his mittened hands together, trying to catch the drifting flakes and opening his hands beads of water on his palms.

“I lived in a city before the Mandalorians found me, on a world called Aq Vetina. We didn’t get much snow, not where we were. We’d get maybe one good snow storm each winter. And everyone would be out in the streets playing in the snow. Children and grown ups alike. Because we knew it wouldn’t stay more than a day or so. Hey! Tilt your head back and open your mouth!”

“Ah?”

“You can catch snowflakes on your tongue!” He remembers the feeling up snow melting on his tongue, landing on his eyelids, dusting his cheeks. Grogu delights in the feeling of snowflakes melting on his upturned face, but his joy is threaded through with grief and longing from Din. I understand, he says in his mind, knowing that his mouth can’t yet shape the sounds in basic, so he grabs Din’s thumb, feels Din’s hand fold around his. “Let’s go inside. I’ll heat up some soup.”

[ckret2]

On chapter 38 of human Bill Cipher is still the Mystery Shack's prisoner, the most exciting, gripping, action-packed, page-turning chapter so far:

Bill gets locked in the bathroom.

He handles it super well.

####

Bill thought he heard a door slam somewhere far off in the shack—but every time he peeked around the shower curtain, there was no sign of anyone else would come into the bathroom any time soon. Good. Last thing he needed was a human coming upstairs to give him trouble for the crime of daring to be naked with a door open. (Of all the stupid things. He wasn't embarrassed, he was used to floating around in nothing but a top hat and bow tie, if he wasn't bothered why should they be bothered, was what he wanted to know...)

As Bill dried off and dressed, he considered what he'd do next. If someone else was back in the house—Dipper, probably—then Bill wouldn't be able to continue his planned mischief. Pity. He'd hardly had a chance to abuse his freedom. But then, Dipper loved to avoid Bill. Maybe Bill could chase him upstairs and have the living room to himself until Mabel got back.

He dressed, pulled the towels off the mirrors, quickly poked his wet hair into something approximating a triangular cloud, and turned toward the door.

Somewhere during the process of getting dressed, he must have bumped into the door, because it had swung halfway shut. Not a problem. He'd found that as long as a door was open at all, it was possible to get through the gap. Even if it was a narrow gap. If you tried to squeeze through it, it somehow widened for you. Such was the illusive trickery of doors.

But. But. Why should he try to squeeze through? His current 3D flesh body was not made for gliding through infinitesimally small gaps. And he wasn't about to let a door be the master of him. He knew how to handle them now. He'd done this in the living room. Time to show off a little.

Bill turned his back on the door, shut his eyes, simply visualized walking straight through an open doorway and out into the hallway, and confidently walked backwards.

The door made a click sound. It stopped moving. Bill froze, back pressed against the wood.

Something went wrong here.

Bill turned around. The door was very firmly closed. He leaned against it experimentally. It remained closed. It sure didn't seem like an illusion he could walk straight through. Had he done it wrong?

After several more failed attempts to walk through the doorway, Bill reluctantly conceded that for some reason this door wasn't about to yield to his mind tricks. He was quite firmly trapped in the bathroom.

Oh, how embarrassing.

No, no—no, it didn't have to be embarrassing. This would be funny. Somebody else would need the bathroom eventually, right? He could just wait here until the humans returned—maybe sit on the toilet, meditate a while—and when someone opened the door, he'd calmly say, "Hey." And after they jumped out of their skin, he'd stroll out the door. They'd never know how he got in there. It would haunt them.

He shut the toilet lid, sat, crossed his legs, shut his eyes, and settled in to wait.

####

He lasted three minutes.

Bill groaned and dragged his hands down his face. "Ugh, it's been hours. Where the heck is everyone!" He stood and angrily pounded on the door. "Okay, I'm sick of this! My lifespan's too finite to waste it in here!"

Who was here? Probably just Dipper, right? Somewhere downstairs? "HEY!" He stomped on the floorboards. "I'M TALKING TO YOU, UH—uhh, uhhhh—MABEL'S BROTHER?! Name?!" What was his name. He and Mabel had those cute matchy twin names—same length and same first two letters— "MARIO? MATTY? MAGNI? MABON? Isn't it Mabon? That sounds right, I'm sure it's Mabon." He stomped on the floor again. "It's really petty of you to ignore me until I get your name right, Mabon! No, wait, he went by a nickname, what was his nickname." Bill paced back and forth across the bathroom floor. "It was a constellation, right? ORION? No. TRIANGULUM? No, I'd remember if it was Triangulum. What's his sign—VIRGO? C'mon, kid!"

Bill glowered at the door. It showed no signs of opening any time in the near future. Where was that brat?

####

Dipper's lungs were heaving and his heart pounding as he pedaled toward the spot where Bill had cracked open the dimensional rift and started Weirdmageddon.

It was easy to find. He just had to locate the fault line that had opened in the ground and follow it until the view of the trees around him began bending oddly in the air, as though being refracted in water—the air was so thick with invisibly-sealed miniature dimensional rifts. He kept going until he found the sign they'd planted last summer:

Mabel's Fault

He still cringed every time he thought of the name they'd given the scar in the earth. He'd proposed it before realizing how it sounded; but Mabel had laughed hysterically and the name stuck.

He didn't see any sign of them around the fault. "MABEL! Can you hear me?! Bill, where are you!" There was no reply. Dipper screamed his frustration at the top of his lungs.

He was a terrible brother. He'd been one then and he was one today. He never should have left Mabel alone with Bill.

Where else could they have gone? Maybe Bill's corpse? Dipper abandoned his bike and ran off the trail, deeper into the woods. "I'm coming, Mabel!"

####

Bill frowned contemplatively at the mirror, finger tapping his chin.

He had painted his zodiac on the glass with tooth paste.

He pointed around the mirror one symbol at a time. "Okay, that one's Jesús," he said, "that's Wendy, that's Stanley—Pine Tree!" Bill smacked the sink triumphantly. "YOUR NAME'S PINE TREE! Stop ignoring me, where are you!"

There was no answer.

"Maybe he went out again," Bill muttered.

Mabel had to be back soon, right? Bill pressed his face to the bathroom window. He could see Stan's car and Waddles below; no Mabel.

"HEY SHOOTING STAR! Are you back yet?!" Bill listened for a reply. "Star girl? Mabel? Buddy? Pal? My hero? My only friend? Please?"

####

Mabel was biking back from the hardware store, her bike's basket stuffed full of spray paint cans. She'd brought along the flashlight with the height-altering crystal so she could shrink down the bags of spray paint cans to fit in the basket. It was a good choice. There had been a sale. She had sooo many colors now.

She passed the grocery store; weird, the parking lot had filled up with a crowd since the last time she passed by. Did she hear music?

She slowed to stare at the crowd—then hit the breaks. "Candy?! Grenda?!"

Across the parking lot, they turned and waved. "Mabel!"

Mabel pedaled up to them. "Hey guys! What are you doing hanging out in a parking lot!"

"Radio station live appearance," Candy said, pointing toward a red van parked next to the grocery store. A vinyl wrap around the van identified it as affiliated with Falls Radio. In front of it, Bodacious T was struggling to set up a tent over a white folding table. Candy went on, "We are here to win cheap prizes at the games. They have trivia, 'name that tune,' a prize wheel..."

Grenda pumped a fist in the air. "I'm gonna win a water bottle and a tiny backpack!"

"Oooh." Mabel craned her neck, trying to peek between the crowd to the front table. "What are the prizes?"

Candy said, "Radio station t-shirts, CDs, gift cards..."

"The grand prize is concert tickets for some old guy," Grenda said dismissively.

"The gift cards are a better value," Candy said.

"What old guy?" Mabel caught sight of a poster taped up to the side of the van. She gasped. "Phrancisco?! From Invisible Yellow Plastic?!"

"You know him?" Candy asked, surprised.

"Yes?! Invisible Yellow Plastic was this amazing 80's band! They were pioneers in the local new wave scene! I've got some of their albums!" Courtesy of Grunkle Ford, who had hyped them up to her in the first place and also told her everything she knew about them. "And based on the album covers, Phrancisco was so hot thirty years ago?"

Candy and Grenda absorbed this new information with thoughtful looks.

Mabel climbed off her bike, stuck the tiny bags of spray paint in one pocket, and used the height-altering flashlight to shrink her bike and stick it in the other pocket. "Ladies. We have got to get these tickets. I'm dropping everything for this quest." She put her hands on Candy and Grenda's shoulders. "With our powers put together, we can win all the gift cards, tiny backpacks, water bottles, and concert tickets we could ever want. Are you with me?!"

Candy and Grenda raised their fists. "Yeah!"

"It's time for radio station live appearance mini games."

####

Bill sat leaning against the bathroom cabinet, idly flipping the toilet lid up and down to entertain himself, staring at the door.

"I'm sure Mabel will be back any minute," he told himself.

####

Bill had constructed a sensory deprivation tank in the bathtub.

He'd filled the tub with about a foot of hot water, dumped in an entire bag of bath salts he'd found by prying a wooden board out of the side of the cabinet, plugged his ears with cotton balls held in place with bandaids, turned out the lights, and draped a towel over the tub.

He was going to meditate in that, and use the boost to his psychic capabilities to send a telepathic SOS to Mabel. Mabel or whoever was sensitive enough to receive it. He wasn't picky.

His nerves were too frazzled for him to drop straight into a trance. He tried to calm himself. Deep breath—wow, the bath salts reeked of lavender—deep breath through the mouth then. Calm down. Be still. Empty mind. Everything would be fine—everything would always be fine for him—there was no need to stress.

Slowly, he relaxed.

Bill's sleep schedule had been in a state of utter disarray since the moment he'd been dumped in a body that needed sleep. Over the past day, the sum total of sleep he'd gotten had been an unplanned nap last night before dinner, and a fretful nightmare-laden spell from 3 a.m. to dawn.

Bill fell asleep in the tub.

His head sank below the water. He spluttered and flailed his way back to sitting upright.

He took the towel off his head and threw it to the ground. "That didn't work." Kinda comfortable though. He lay back in the tub. What else could he try?

Maybe Wendy would come back. She said she liked hanging out here when she was avoiding people, and it sounded like she wasn't too keen on her friends—maybe she'd get sick of them and return? Yeah. Yeah! Sure, Bill was sure she'd do that. "Wendyyy! Hey! You didn't happen to come back, did you?!" He waited. "Come on! I know you're here!"

####

"No wait, this'll be sick," Nate said. He was laying down on the walkway around the top of the water tower, wriggling out under the safety railing so his face and shoulders hung out in open air.

Wendy laughed. "Dude. What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna spray paint something on the bottom of the floor. Everyone'll go, 'How did that get there?'" He waved a hand at Lee. "Gimme a spray can."

Lee handed Nate a can of purple paint, and he slid out a little bit farther. His belly button was level with the edge of the walkway.

Wendy stopped laughing. "Whoa," she said. "Careful. What are you, crazy?" She put one hand on the railing.

"Yeah. Crazy genius. It's cool, look." Nate slid out another couple of inches. "I can just—lift my legs and hang from the railing by my knees, like a monkey—" He lifted his feet off the walkway, and immediately lost balance and slid forward. "Hey—"

Time seemed to slow down. Wendy had trained for this, the water tower's wooden legs were basically thin tree trunks, if she slid under the railing she could grab Nate and swing into one of the tower legs, they could slide down that to the bottom—

Lee dropped flat on Nate's legs, using his weight to pin him in place. "HEY!"

Wendy grabbed Nate's shirt. Together, she and Lee dragged him back onto the walkway. Nate rolled onto his back and stared at the sky, eyes wide.

Lee sat beside him and laughed nervously. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Whoo. Gimme a sec."

"What the heck, Nate!" Wendy was gripping the railing hard enough her arms shook. She tried to sound calm. "You almost got yourself killed, you dummy!" Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

"I'm fine," Nate said shakily. "I'm fine, just... lay off."

"Fine. Sor-ry. I'm just trying to make sure you don't literally die."

Lee gave Wendy an exasperated look. Nate closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, okay, mom."

The back of her neck went hot. Oh no, absolutely not. The mom friend was the opposite of the cool girl. That was the boring friend who drove everyone around and was too busy worrying to have fun. She'd never been mom-friended in her life.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lee asked Wendy. "I mean—this idiot's near death experience aside—" (Nate punched Lee's knee.) "—you've been kinda high-strung lately. Is everything cool?"

"Of course I'm cool," Wendy said automatically. Be cool, girl. "Sorry. Work junk's got me stressed. Soos keeps randomly closing at the last minute, and I'm losing hours, and... it's been getting to me, I guess. I just need to chill." She took in a deep breath. "Nate," she put a hand on his shoulder and said solemnly, "if you want to fall on your head and lose your last eight brain cells, I won't get in your way. I support your dreams, man."

"Pssh, shut up!" Nate shoved Wendy off and sat up, laughing. "Okay, new plan. What if I just—stay on the floor, but reach my arm under the side to paint it."

Lee asked, "How are you gonna see what you're drawing?"

Nate considered that. "You can reach under and use your phone like a mirror."

Wendy bit back the urge to tell them they were idiots. Were her friends not maturing fast enough, or was she just getting boring?

She leaned against the water tower and shut her eyes.

####

Laying on the bathroom floor, Bill said, "You know what, Cool Girl? I'm beginning to think you're ignoring me too." Everyone was here and everyone was ignoring him.

He heaved himself to his feet. How long had he been in here. Time lost all meaning in a sensory deprivation tank. It could have been days. He was beginning to get hungry. What would he do when his body needed food? Not to mention dehydration! Where was he going to get water in a bathroom?!

Bill did not, at that moment, possess the greatest clarity of mind.

He flinched in surprise at the sight of another human in the bathroom, and then his hopes went up—and then they went back down. Oh. Right. He'd taken the towels off the mirrors. Just him.

"Thanks for disappointing me," he snapped sarcastically at the human body in the reflection. "Again. As usual." He pointed at the reflection. "Hey—hey! What's that look on your face for? Don't you take that attitude with me, buster! It's your fault I'm in this mess!"

His reflection continued to glare wrathfully at him. It made him madder. The reflection's wrath deepened.

"WHAT?!" Bill demanded. "You keep your mouth shut, I'm the one shouting here! What do you have to be angry about?! I've never done anything to you! You owe me everything! I feed you, I clothe you, I wash you, and what do you give me in return?! Backaches and headaches! I could have been home partying with my friends by now, but do you know who's holding me back?! YOU!" He jabbed his finger against the mirror. The reflection jabbed a finger back. Voice cracking with rage, Bill squawked, "Don't you raise your hand at me, you little—!" He curled his hand in a fist, intending only to threaten the reflection; but when it shook a fist back at him, he reared back with a roar and punched the mirror. The glass crunched beneath his knuckles. His knuckles also crunched.

Bill stared at the broken glass, snapped out of his rage by the pain. Dozens of fragmented reflections stared back at him. He rubbed the stinging cuts on his knuckles.

"Of course," he said. "The solution's so obvious! Blood sacrifice!"

####

As Dipper passed the water tower, he spied an incomprehensible purple squiggle spray painted to the bottom of the walkway. How did that get there? Had Bill and Mabel been here? Maybe Mabel had done it with one of her spray cans to send a signal? Or maybe Bill had used his magic to float up and spray some magical alien rune from below.

He climbed up to look.

Nothing. No signs they'd been here, either. Dipper pulled out a town map he'd marked up with the locations Bill was most likely to hit, and peered toward them one by one from his vantage point; but he didn't see Bill or Mabel, nor any evidence of Bill's influence terrorizing the town. He was out of leads.

He climbed back down. He'd bike back to the shack, call Soos, maybe call the police, look for clues around the shack, chug some Mabel Juice for energy—desperate times—and join the hunt again...

As the Mystery Shack emerged from behind the trees, he saw, from another direction, Mabel biking up. His heart leaped into his throat.

Mabel waved. "Hey, Dipper!" She kicked down her kickstand and dismounted. "Did you find the wigglers?"

"Mabel!" Dipper almost tripped in his haste to get off his bike and pull her into a tight hug.

"Dipper? What is it?" Mabel awkwardly hugged him back. She whispered, "Why do you smell so bad."

"Are you okay?!" He held her out at arm's length, looking her up and down. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Wh—? No, I'm great! I might've kinda exploded a couple of tiny spray paint cans in my pocket, though." She pulled up her sweater, showing the purple and orange stains on one side of her skirt. "Buuut—" She held out four slips of colorful card stock. "Guess who won awesome concert tickets!"

"What about Bill," Dipper demanded, "did Bill kidnap you?"

"What? No." Mabel shook her head, bewildered. "I locked him in the shack while I went out for more spray paint."

"Well, he's not there now! I searched everywhere!" Dipper gasped, "Then—he must have escaped while you were out."

"What?! But—how—"

"I don't know, but I searched the whole shack a couple of hours ago—"

"A couple of hours?!"

"—and there's no sign of him—"

"Then he could be anywhere by now!" Mabel squeezed her hands together, crushing her tickets. "Oh, this is bad. It's all my fault if he causes trouble! We've gotta find him before Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford get home!"

"But where?" Dipper asked. "I've already looked everywhere he might go! The basement, the fault, his corpse, town hall, that street with all the katanas in the gutter for some reason..."

"You're thinking like Bill the evil overlord, I can think like Bill the party animal! We've talked about all kinds of fun places he'd go if he was free!" She got back on her bike. "Come on, I'll tell you on the way to town, we can split up to search!"

Dipper got on his bike to follow, but said, "Come on, do you really think he'd waste time doing something fun now that he's free to be evil again?"

"Fun and evil are the same thing to him! Dipper, I can guarantee you, if Bill summons his terrible friends back to town, the first place he's taking them is the Putt Hutt," she said. "Because he wants to force the townspeople to run through giant minigolf obstacles, and also teach the Lilliputtians to do war crimes."

"Okay, I believe you," Dipper said. "Lead the way."

####

As Mabel and Dipper biked away from the shack, Bill cried, "Wait wait, no! Come back!" He pounded both fists on the bathroom window and let out a prolonged, anguished, "NOOO!"

They didn't hear him.

Waddles did, though. He pulled his face out of the dirt and looked up at Bill, muddy snout twitching.

"Waddles," Bill gasped, relieved. "Good pig. Smart pig. You know, I'm—I'm really very impressed by your scientific work. Especially that jet pack, wow. Seriously. Just between you and me, I don't think Fordsy's quite the biggest genius in the house, you know what I mean?"

Waddles blinked.

"Listen. I need a little favor. Go get help." He pointed toward town. "Go get Mabel and tell her I'm— Or, or just free me yourself! Can you do that? Come on up here?" Could pigs open doors? Bill couldn't think of any reason why not. It wasn't like Waddles was cursed.

Waddles tilted his head slightly, contemplatively. He didn't look persuaded.

"It'll just take you a second," Bill pled. "And then I'll owe you one! Big time! Listen, if you help me, you'll go down in history! You think that stupid hog with the fancy spiderwebs was special? He's nothing! I'll rearrange the constellations to form your face! It'll say 'Greatest Pig In The Universe!' How's that?!"

Waddles stared at Bill.

"Have we got a deal?"

Waddles snorted, his nose twitching upward.

"More?! What more could you want! An infinite feeding trough! A hundred sows! A Nobel prize! The most luxurious mud puddle in the world, what?! Just—tell me what you want!"

Waddles lay down and shut his eyes.

"You're a lazy bum, Waddles!" Bill smacked his hand on the window. "You hear me?! You could've had a brilliant academic future in any field from bioengineering to quantum technology, and you squandered it all to mooch off a twelve-year-old! All potential but no work ethic! You're pathetic! You're nothing!"

Completely unashamed and satisfied with his life choices, Waddles fell asleep.

Bill groaned in frustration. "I'll never get out of here!" He kicked over a box, kicked a shampoo bottle, kicked one of the many ancient cursed sigils he'd inscribed on the walls in his own blood, and kicked a towel. "They've abandoned me in this shack. They're never coming back. They're gonna burn it down with me inside. Those brats just came by to taunt me! Mabel's probably been in on it all along! They all have. After all I've done for them! Those ungrateful—"

Bill stomped across the bathroom and hammered on the door. "Was this your idea, Stanford Pines?! I know it was you! You've had it out for me ever since we finished the portal and you decided you didn't need me anymore! It was your big plan to trap me in here! You're just waiting to see if the hunger or the boredom gets to me faster, aren't you?! Gonna record that in your journal, huh? A cute little experiment to see whether my body or my mind gives out first?" He gave the door another violent pound. "You're an evil, sadistic freak, Stanford! And not even the fun kind! I know you're laughing at me right now! I know that's what you're doing!"

####

Ford kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Dontium generator as he blindly groped across the card table for the deck. "Where's—?"

"Here, I've gotcha." Fiddleford pushed a playing card into his hand.

"Thanks." Ford groped around the table until he found the three cards that had already been placed down, flipped the new one over, and carefully set it next to the others. "What's this one?"

"Four of clubs."

"Remind me why I'm responsible for dealing the community cards when I can't look at them and you can?"

"Because it's real distractin'," Fiddleford said, "Which is just what you need to keep you from thinkin' about the... oh."

Oh. The Dontium.

Sitting at the generator's controls, Soos said, "Aw, dudes. Needle's back down at zero."

Ford shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

Sitting on a folding chair faced away from the Dontium generator, Stan groaned. "Seriously?! Again?"

Fiddleford said, "Sorry, sorry."

"Start from the top," Ford said tiredly. "Stan, you just focus on your part and I'll focus on mine. Or... not focus on mine, as the case may be."

Stan groaned again, but said, "Fine!" and crossed his arms irritably.

"Right," Ford said. "Where were we? Remind me what the current community cards are?"

"King of hearts, seven of hearts, two of diamonds, and four of clubs."

"Hmm." It wasn't an inspiring bunch of community cards. No chance for a straight, no chance for a flush, slim odds for four of a kind. He tried to mentally calculate the probability of a win. "And..." Ford waved the two cards he was holding. "What's my hand?"

"I'd tell ya, but last I checked, peekin' at yer opponent's poker cards is still considered cheating."

"Right," Ford sighed. That was going to make calculations harder.

"I could look," Stan said. "I'm allowed to look anywhere except the one place I'm not, right? If I tell you your cards—"

"You can't," Fiddleford said irritably, "because then you'll think about poker when you're s'posed to be thinkin' about—er..."

Soos laughed awkwardly. "Aw, dudes. You'll never guess what."

"Darn it!" Stan got to his feet and pointed at Ford. "You started thinking about the thing again!"

"You stopped thinking about the thing again!"

"How am I supposed to think about the thing when there's a game of Texas hold 'em five feet away?!"

"I knew we should have switched to a game Stan doesn't like." Ford looked at Fiddleford—it didn't matter, they weren't making any progress. "What if we try...?"

Firmly, Fiddleford said, "Stanford, I'll do many things for science. But you ain't getting me to play that diabolical hocus-pocusy wizard game."

Ford groaned. "We're going to be here all night."

Soos slowly raised a hand. "I have an idea," he said. "What if you both put on headphones. And Stan's plays a recording that just says 'think about the NowUSeeItNowUDontium generator' over and over. And Ford's plays—uh—I don't know, an audiobook with cool science facts or something?"

They considered that. Ford slowly nodded. Stan shrugged. "Eh, can't hurt."

####

Were shirts edible?

Nothing in this accursed bathroom qualified as human food. But if Bill could eke out just a few calories, maybe he could survive until the humans came by to pry the gold fillings from his starved corpse and turn the tables on them. Shirts were plants. They might accidentally contain a mineral or two. Right? Maybe? Bill knew a great many things about Earth, but he had never once needed to learn whether cotton yielded any nutritional benefit to human beings.

It was probably better for him than trying to chew up the wooden counter. He peeled off his shirt, steeled himself for the least appetizing meal of his life, and began distastefully chewing on the hem.

Several minutes in, it suddenly occurred to him to check the shirt's tag for nutrition info. He peered in the collar.

65% polyester, 35% cotton.

Well. He wasn't wasting his time on a shirt that was two-thirds plastic. He'd burn more energy chewing than he'd gain.

He pulled his shirt back on and lay on the bathroom floor. He could already feel his famished body metabolizing his own muscles for fuel.

If he returned to his true form when he died, the first thing he was doing was heating every ounce of polyester on the planet to five hundred degrees and melting it onto the skin of the humans stupid enough to wear it.

####

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid..." Mabel was muttering to herself in sync with pedaling the bike. She'd spent most of the ride along the road back to the shack alternating between this chant and berating herself in more detail: "I'm so stupid, augh! Why is it always me? Why am I always the one who lets Bill get out? Because I'm an idiot!"

"Whoa, hey. Don't say that," Dipper said. Granted, he did think leaving Bill home with no guards was kinda stupid, but Mabel was already punishing herself far in excess of what Dipper thought she deserved. And he'd left Bill home with one guard, so was he much better? "It's not all your fault—"

"Yes it is! I'm the one who decided to trust him at home alone! I'm the only one who's been trusting him at all! I knew he'd try something like this eventually!" Mabel tilted her head back and let out a long noise of frustration at the sky.

Dipper opened his mouth to try to offer more reassurance; but then he paused. "Wait. If you knew he'd do this, then why did you trust him?"

"Because...!" Mabel fell silent for a moment. "Because, I know he's a bad person... but I really, really do think he can get better." She had that little waver in her voice that she got whenever she was trying not to cry. "I'm figuring out how he thinks, I'm teaching him manners, I'm getting him to lie less... But, he can't prove he's getting better if he isn't given room to do the wrong thing, so he can choose the right thing instead. If he can't choose, then he's not good, he's just controlled. So I've... gotta give him chances."

Dipper stared at her, momentarily lost for words. "And—you're willing to risk the safety of the whole town—?"

"I mean I didn't think he'd escape entirely!" Her front tire wobbled; she slammed on the breaks. Dipper skidded to a stop just a few feet ahead.

Voice thicker, Mabel said, "I just—with Grunkle Ford so close to figuring out how to kill him, I really... really wanted him to prove he can be better."

All this time, watching her playing and goofing around with Bill, Dipper had assumed she was just ignoring how dangerous he was. But if anything, she was thinking about it more than anybody else. All the rest of the family had to worry about was Bill finding some way to destroy the world; while Mabel was worrying about Bill destroying the world, and Bill not making enough progress on some nebulous road to being "better," and whether he could prove himself to everyone else before it was too late.

Dipper didn't think Bill could do anything to prove himself. He thought Bill deserved to die. But that just made Mabel's position even worse.

"Oh, Mabel," Dipper murmured. "I'm sorry. I... didn't realize how much pressure you're under." All this time, Dipper had been seeing this as a battle where Bill won if he escaped to restart Weirdmageddon and the Pines won if they killed Bill. But for Mabel, she'd lose either way.

No wonder she'd learned so much about him, so fast. No wonder she was spending so much time around him. She didn't have any time to waste. And to think Dipper had been jealous of her bizarre new expertise. He didn't want to be doing what she was doing.

"S'fine. It's stupid." Mabel rubbed her nose on her arm, eyes downcast. "I'm the dumb-dumb who tried to be friends with an evil space criminal."

"You're not a dumb-dumb," Dipper said. "You're like, one dumb maximum."

Mabel snorted and laughed weakly. "Seriously, Dipper."

"You just want to help. Maybe too much."

She shrugged. "I guess." She rubbed her face again, then got back on her bike. "C'mon, it's almost dark. We should go."

"Yeah." Every second they wasted was one more second Bill could spend putting some devastating plot together.

They were headed back to the shack, but only long enough to regroup. They had already split the cereal bars and jerky that Dipper kept in his backpack for excursions, but they needed to get some proper food before they continued the hunt. And—as much as they dreaded it—they'd conceded they couldn't fix this themselves, and they had to call the adults to tell them they'd let Bill escape.

As they biked, Dipper said, "Hey. What did you mean, you're 'getting him to lie less'? Bill tells like four lies a minute."

"Oh. Right," Mabel said. "I guess I don't exactly see it as lying anymore because I understand what he really means."

"What, is he talking in some kind of code?"

"Sorta? I'm not sure if this is only a Bill thing, or if it's how people talked back on his planet? But he just doesn't have conversations like a human. When he says something, he doesn't really care about if it's true. He's telling you what he thinks should be true. So it's not like he's actually trying to lie, he's just... trying to use words to make a better reality." Mabel shrugged. "You've just gotta negotiate with him on the details of the new reality so you both like it."

Dipper blinked in bewilderment. "Mabel, that's objectively insane."

"It works, though!" Her proud smile wilted. "I thought it did, anyway."

Once they found Bill and had finally figured out how to kill him, Dipper would kill him twice for breaking Mabel's heart.

####

"Where haven't we looked for him yet?" Mabel asked, packing fresh provisions in Dipper's backpack. Waddles, who had come in with them and could tell something was wrong, had sat down reassuringly in the exact center of the kitchen.

"I didn't explore much of the forest." There was a lot of forest. "He's probably out there with a pair of scissors cutting open the dimensional rifts we glued shut last summer."

"Or taking over the radio station to broadcast a mind-control signal."

"Or breaking into the buried UFO to summon an alien invasion."

"Do you think we need to check the UFO?" Mabel asked. "I've never gotten to see it."

"Probably. If I was an evil triangle trying to restart an apocalypse, that's where I'd go." Either that, or hitch the first ride out of town—but that wasn't an option for Bill. Their one blessing was that they knew Bill still had to be nearby. He couldn't be farther than the weirdness barrier. "We'll need the magnet gun." Dipper headed for the stairs.

"And my grappling hook!" Mabel called. "Can you grab it for me?"

"You got it!"

As Dipper jogged past the bathroom, something rattled the door so thunderously that Dipper jumped sideways like a startled deer. The door howled, "Let me out, you monster! I'll kill you! I'll atomize you! I'll turn your intestines into a Klein bottle! I'll anti your matter—!"

Dipper stared. He opened the door. The bathroom belched forth a cloud of artificial lavender fragrance.

Behind it stood Bill Cipher, both hands on the doorframe, arms shaking, chest heaving, face contorted in rage. The moment the door was open, the rage melted away into a look of profound relief and his knees buckled under him. 

Dipper said, "What."

"You saved me!" He placed one hand reverently on the floor boards outside the bathroom. "You're my hero. I knew you wouldn't abandon—" He blinked, squinting up at Dipper's face. "Oh. It's just you. Eh."

Dipper said, "What."

"I was trapped!" His hair was disheveled; his hands were covered in scrapes and cuts; and his shirt's hem was shredded and tattered. There was a wild look in his dark-ringed eyes. He looked like a man who'd been crawling through the desert for a week, who'd then crawled into an active minefield. "I couldn't get out! I tried everything!"

Dipper gazed past Bill. The bathroom walls were coated in mysterious sigils drawn in toothpaste, makeup, and blood. One mirror was shattered, and the other had a smeared drawing of Bill's zodiac. There was a pile of wet cotton balls and used bandaids on the floor.He'd started writing his will on the shower curtain. He'd written an invocation to something called ⅃TO⅃OXA on the ceiling.

"I thought I was gonna die in here." Bill crawled across the hall, leaned back against the opposite wall, and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "I had to eat shampoo to survive." He hiccuped up several soap bubbles.

Dipper stared at Bill, stared into the bathroom again, and stared at Bill. "How long have you been in here?"

Dragging his hands down his face, Bill declared, "All afternoon! And evening!"

"You resorted to drinking shampoo in one afternoon?"

"I was hungry! Do you know how much fuel human bodies need?! It's insane!"

And that was the moment Dipper realized that all along, Mabel had been half right: Bill probably wasn't becoming "better"; but even so, they no longer had anything to fear from Bill Cipher. He wasn't haunting their dreams, he wasn't opening rifts. This, this was all he could bring to the table. He was so harmless it was pathetic.

Dipper would never be afraid of him again.

"Welp," Dipper said. "Enjoy your freedom, man. Bye." He turned to leave.

A hand closed on the back of his neck. Bill snarled in his ear, "Ohhh, no. You're not going anywhere. We're going down to the kitchen, and you're opening the fridge for me."

Wow, right, Bill couldn't even open the fridge by himself. Wow. Wow. That was so sad.

They had to slow down at the stairs; Bill was stumbling down them with the weariness of a soldier who'd survived a week in the trenches. As they went, Bill said, "Hey. What's your first name?"

"Wha—?" Somewhat offended, he said, "It's Dipper."

"No. I know that, obviously. Why wouldn't I know that?" (He sounded defensive.) "I meant your—your baby name. Birth certificate."

"Why do you need to know?" Was this like a fae thing? Was telling Bill his real name dangerous?

"It's been driving me insane all day." With the eyes of a desperate man grasping at the last fraying threads of his sanity, Bill said, "Is it Mabon? I could swear it's Mabon. Tell me it's Mabon."

"What? No, that's stupid. Mabon isn't even a real name."

"Yes it is, it's Welsh."

"It's Mason."

"HA!" Bill screamed triumphantly in Dipper's face, "MASON!" He was way too loud and looked way too ecstatic.

Dipper opened his mouth, then decided he didn't want to know and shut it.

Mabel was in the living room on her phone. "Hey, Soos? Could you put Grunkle Ford on a second?" She paused, then took a shaky breath and said, "Grunkle Ford? Hey. I've... got some bad news... We, uh..."

"Psst," Dipper hissed from the doorway, "Mabel!" He pointed at Bill. Bill pointed at himself.

Mabel's eyes widened. "We... ate all the leftovers! Haha, yeah, sorry, thought you should know! Anyway, love you, bye!" She lowered the phone. Dipper faintly heard Ford say, "What leftovers?" before Mabel ended the call. "Bill! You came back!"

"He never left the shack," Dipper said.

"You didn't?!" Mabel bounded across the room and flung her arms around him. It nearly knocked him over. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"Yeah, of course not. You can count on me, kid." Bill glanced sideways at Dipper, brows raised questioningly. What?

Flatly, Dipper said, "He got locked in the bathroom."

"What?!" Mabel stepped back, looked Bill up and down, and said, "You look awful! What happened?"

"I was trapped," Bill said wretchedly. "I thought I was a goner." Dipper rolled his eyes.

"Oh my gosh, you poor thing!" Mabel hugged him again. "Tell me all about it."

"In the kitchen."

"Of course! You must be starving."

"I am," Bill said, hand on his heart, the most pitiful thing you ever did see. "That was the worst afternoon of my existence. You know—being stuck in a human body makes waiting for anything absolute torture. An energy being can wait indefinitely, but a flesh being can feel the passage of time via its own cycle of slowly decaying flesh. The flesh knows it's got less than a century til its expiration date. Compared to the length of my entire life, one afternoon to a human is proportionate to, like..." There was a pause as Bill did some mental math, "over nine million years of my life? So I was basically in there for nine million years!"

"That's awful! I'm so sorry, if I'd had any idea..."

Bill was enjoying this performance, Dipper was sure of it. If he were any hammier he'd be a pork chop.

Still—and Dipper never thought he'd be grateful for this—at least Bill was here.

He followed Mabel and Bill into the kitchen to get some proper dinner.

####

Dipper pulled a tray of dinosaur chicken nuggets out of the oven. "Okay, dinner's ready. You guys want any condiments? Ketchup? Barbecue sauce?" He looked at Bill. "Shampoo?" Mabel snorted.

The absolute picture of dignity, Bill said, "Shampoo's really more of a dressing than a condiment." Once he'd raided the cabinet for snacks, Bill had gotten bored with the woe-is-me act and was now acting like he was above any petty jabs about his bathroom adventure. "I'll take maple syrup."

Mabel looked at Bill like he'd just invented a brand new number. "I'll take maple syrup, too."

Dipper split the nuggets on three plates—they weren't quite divisible by three, so he gave Bill the plate with one fewer.

"By the way," Bill said conversationally. "How was dumpster diving?"

"Shut up." Dipper took one more nugget from Bill's plate.

Once they were all seated around the table, Bill said, "So! Let's talk alibis."

Dipper frowned. Mabel said, "Alibis for what?"

"I might have been safe at home all day, but you two didn't know that, because you both decided to leave the big scary triangle here alone. I mean, anything could have happened. What if I'd burned the house down?" Bill feigned a grimace. "I don't think you want the grunkles to know you left, do you?"

Mabel winced. Dipper said, "So, what—are you blackmailing us?"

"Nooo. I'm saying we need to get our stories straight in case they ask. After all, I'd hate for you kids to get in trouble."

"I think you're just embarrassed they might find out what you were doing all day."

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't see why I should be embarrassed by your negligence."

After half an hour of rigorous debate, they agreed that, if anybody asked, they'd never left the house and had spent all afternoon battling a ghost werewolf. It was the one thing they could think of that made them all feel sufficiently cool, but was mundane enough it wouldn't call for any follow-up questions.

They collectively decided they didn't know anything about the state of the bathroom.

####

(I hope y'all found that half as hilarious to read as I found it to write. If you enjoyed I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts! Next week: the complete emotional opposite of this week.)