#unconfident I guess

[skyward-floored]

Chapter 10!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35830534/chapters/139387765#workskin

Summary:

“What’s with the blanket?” asked Legend suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

Wind suddenly gasped, darting over to Twilight. “Is that a baby?”

The group went silent at the last question, and Twilight nodded with a small sigh.

~~~

An unknown time period, a ruined town, and a baby who only raises more questions then answers.

Wild did not sign up to be father when he came on this quest but by Hylia he’ll try his hardest.

We’re back, folks! Enjoy chapter 10!

[arsenicflame]

shes finally coming together!! still got a bunch of hand work to do on the blouse and corset, and of course, style the wig, but annes gonna be ready for mcm next weekend!

[mollypaints]

okay real talk

a selection of favorites

[happyk44]

To me, children of Zeus are natural strategists in the same way children of Athena are. But the difference is that Zeus and his kids have multiple plans and contingencies if a plan fails at a certain point and needs to shift gears. So like they employ Plan A and get all the way to stage four of the plan when suddenly there's a deviation from expectations for whatever reason. So they shift gears from Plan A1 to Plan A2, which accounted for this deviation and continue on.

Athena and her kids, however, come up with one solid, somewhat broader plan and refuse to deviate from it at all unless there is literally no other choice, in which case they will improvise quickly and efficiently to accomodate the change and get back on track to the original plan.

[uldahstreetrat]

I need to remember to make a more official post Friday night when I'll actually have consistent time to draw HOWEVER so I dont forget entirely im making my informal announcement now that Im open for $5 sketch requests on kofi! I also opened up two commission slots for my more painterly portraits as I have done here in the past at $50!

[vorish-wonderland]

I saw your rook story and loved it! How about vil giving a punishment to mc and Epel for them messing with his make up?

Includes: soft/safe vore, teasing (I think?), unwilling prey

★✦Special Punishment...✦★

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

"Epel... do we really have to do this??" You asked, not wanting to go along with whatever this is.

"What, are you chicken or something? Come on, it won't even take that long!"

So. Turns out that wasn't a good idea.

You had done it earlier today, just a quick little joke, one he probably wouldn't even notice!

...that's what you thought, at least.

You and Epel were playing war in your shared room, when suddenly, a loud yell rang out across the dorm.

"...oh no." You squeaked, assuming that was about what you and Epel had done.

"Stop being so jumpy, he could've just chipped a nail or something, heh." Epel smirked.

The door was suddenly kicked open, and Vil was standing in the doorway, absolutely furious.

"...oh."

"Heyyyyy Vil...!" You nervously say. "We, uh... we were just talking about you...! All good things, all good things-"

"Were you perhaps talking about what you did?" He's still speaking politely, but it looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel.

"Ohhhh... haha... you... you saw that...?"

"It's not that bad, Vil! I mean, you're okay with movie critics and acting critics and haters and stalkers and all that all day long, I think you can handle a little prank." Epel says, still trying to go ahead with your card game.

Vil suddenly grabs Epel by the wrist and drags him out of the room.

Alright, you have three options.

Stay here in the room (bad idea)

Flee, by running out of the room while Vil is busy with Epel (also bad idea)

Go out the window (worst idea)

What will you choose, what will you choose??

...

Sorry you took too long.

"GET OVER HERE." Vil angrily says through gritted teeth, grabbing you by the wrist as he did Epel and he drags you out of the room.

"H-hey-! Hey, listen, Vil, a-all of this was Epel! I was against this from the start, Housewa-"

"You were still complicit." Vil nearly hisses at you. "Do you have any idea how expensive that set is?!"

"...nooooo...???" You nervously smile, hoping to look somewhat confident. It doesn't work.

"Oh really? The price tag that was still on it due to me not having opened, or even unpacked it yet didn't give it away? Gehirnverweigerer."

"What did you call me-?"

He does not elaborate. He just keeps dragging you along with him, to wherever he's leading you.

Ah, that weird secret lab Pomefiore has. Why does the dorm have it? Something about the legend of The Fairest Queen or whatever...

"Vil, can't we just talk this out? Like I said, I didn't do anything here! It was just Epel! It was all him!!"

"As I said, you were still complicit." He glares at you. "You just stood there and let Epel eat my new palette!!"

"...aha... yeah... uh... sorry."

Vil splashed a potion on you.

You started shrinking rapidly. Much faster than you'd expected.

...hey, where's Epel?

Where's Epel, and why did Vil make you shrink with a potion?

Vil grabs you off the floor, his hand like a claw machine... you, the helpless toy being grabbed.

You're about the size of a handheld pencil sharpener. Vil lifts you up all the way to his face, glaring at you the whole time.

"Can we please just talk about this-?"

"No."

Well, it was worth a shot.

Vil drops you in his mouth, but he doesn't swallow you down immediately. No, of course not.

No no no, he's mad at you. He wants you to be uncomfortable.

Vil rolled you around in his mouth, making sure not a single part of you wasn't absolutely drenched in his saliva... your dorm uniform is so long and flowy that it uncomfortably sticks to you because of how wet it is.

This goes on for a full five minutes.

By the end you were honestly just so exhausted that you just let him swallow you... mostly because you knew that the more you struggle, the more uncomfortable he'd purposely make you.

This sucks. It's like a waterslide, but also one of those weighted blankets, and also a finger trap that goes around your whole body...

Vil probably won't kill you, it'd be very bad for his publicity if he did. So at least there's that.

Well, now you and Epel are in Vil's stomach. You don't know how long you'll be in here.

"...I wish we still had our playing cards, then we'd at least have something to do." Epel groans.

"You say that as if this isn't entirely your fault." You retort as you roll your eyes.

"What that have to do with us having nothing to do in here-?" He shakes his head. "Uh, regardless, you were involved in it too! It's just as much your fault as it is mine!"

"I'm not the one who ate Vil's brand new eyeshadow palette!!"

"But you didn't stop me!"

"I TRIED. YOU DIDN'T LISTEN."

"Whatever, no need to play the blame game. Let's just admit this was both our faults and... I don't know, just sit in here I guess." Epel sighs.

As much as you wish he'd admit he's the one that caused this, he's right. This "experience" will just feel even longer if you two argue the whole time.

So... time to just sit in here for the foreseeable future, I guess.

[monsterkitties]

i will absolutely be shot in the head by anyone for this you have full governmental permission because it was 100% not the writers' intentions BUT i love nonbinary bi rainbowcore (pORTAL) and i also love rainbowcore/glados. im the only one that ships this. but if you knew the context... youd get it. the au is expansive and large like marge

[rivilu]

You ever think about how Mahariel is the child of a keeper's affair. Thus the origin that can relate most closely to Alistair being a bastard. You ever think about how Mahariel is the magicless child of a mage in one of the very few societies in Thedas where that can be felt as a negative. Thus giving them something in common with both Carver and a non mage Hawke?

[ghostyolive]

.

[sangrialuvr]

brandenburg 3 mvmt 3 u will always b famous 2 me (ur alr famous)

[webslingingslasher]

i always imagine peter’s hair as fluffy but yk how when it’s wet it curls. imagine seeing nerdy peter’s hair wet/curly for the first time

i picture he has fluffy curly hair?? it’s much more curly when it’s wet but they’re not as defined when dry.

but (and this is projecting) i love me some curls. so obv, reader does too.

---

‘oh my god!’

peter jumps, you have a finger pointed behind him. ‘oh my god!’ he starts to spin around, ‘what? what is it?’

you can’t form words, all you can think of is ‘oh my god?!’ peter whines out for you, he doesn’t know what’s freaking you out. ‘c'mon, help me out, you’re scaring me.’

peter assumes he has a spider on him, he doesn’t know how he can’t sense it, but your quick calls for him to come closer makes him guess you’re about to swipe him clean.

until your hands dig into his hair, peter shakes you off before stepping back. 'hey, c'mon now. i just washed it.' he did. he also tried to style it, but nothing could hide those coils.

'curls.' your hands have a mind of their own but peter dodges the attack. a pout covers your face, 'curls?'

'i'm saddened to know you've been blind up to this point, but very happy you finally noticed them.' he's having fun with it, you're not. you never get to see them like this.

'peter!' your grabby hands don't do anything, it makes you feel slightly grumpy. all you wanted to do was fawn over the baby curls kissing his ears.

'fine, you have dumb hair. and stupid curls. and... it's too long.'

peter raises an eyebrow, his arms cross over his chest. 'oh really?' you're being challenged, you can't back down. an unconfident head nod was your response.

'thank god you said something, cause i thought you liked it long, but now i know i can cut it off and you won't mind.' you chew on your bottom lip while staring at the brunette.

'how short?' because there's some room to work around, you can handle a summer chop. your boyfriend shrugs, 'more than a buzzcut.'

the words hit you like a crowbar to the knees, you have to back down. you can't lose his curls, you can't. 'no! please no! i love your hair and your curls and it's not long enough!'

peter hits you with a sympathetic pout, 'oh? so, not dumb and stupid?' your feet lightly stomp the ground, 'they're extra curly today, c'mon, please?'

even if he's walking closer, he's still teasing you. 'it's insane how much power my hair has over you.' you light up, you can almost feel the soft pleats over your fingertips.

'yeah, yeah, yeah. can i have?' peter blocks your hands one more time, you're about to scream. 'you know they're mine, right?'

'sure. yeah, if that's what you need to believe.' peter tilts backwards when you reach out, you hate to be that person, but...

'i swear to fucking god, peter, if you ever want to see me naked again, you better let me grab 'em.' in under a millisecond you have your fingers twisted around his hair, a satisfied smile spreads. 'pretty curls.' 

[leonw4nter]

hi! so i was wondering if you could do hcs for re2r leon who is dating a nurse? also i wanted to say that i love your writing!! it’s literally some of my favorite on this app 💗 thank you!

RE2R!Leon Headcanons on dating a nurse…

RE2R!Leon x GN!reader

You two had met when officer Rayman had to send him to the ER for stitches on his side after a physical encounter with a car thief on crack. You had been at the ER just passing time, occasionally attending to other patients if they needed any help.

You had already thought that the young officer was already attractive, but you didn’t pay his face much attention and rushed to help him with the cut on his side, as blood seeped through his white inner shirt and into his navy blue uniform. He was already used to being shirtless with a bunch of other officers in the locker rooms of the RPD but somehow, he felt flustered being topless in front of you.

“Gosh, your body is just goals,” you comment as you finish up the last of his stitches. Warmth floods his head, sending his brain swimming in all sorts of happiness-eliciting chemicals. “It’s so good, actually. What’s your workout routine?”

“Oh it’s– um…–” he stammered. Pistol squats, weighted squats, glute extensions, weighted calf raises, thirty-second sprints, leg swings, cat camel, crab reaches, and some kicking. It would’ve been easy for him to share his gym regimen and tell you its intervals but with you looking up at him with doe eyes, all words melted into goo before they could leave his throat. “Oh– it’s just, you know– squats, calf raises, some running. That stuff… I think– I mean, yeah! Just these um… exercises, yeah. Right.”

He wanted to kick himself and never come back to that ER again but you didn’t seem to notice his awkward stammering (or did really well that it looked like you didn’t notice it).

You gave your number to him in case he had any questions or needed help with tending to the stitches just below his ribs and since Marvin had given him 2 days off to recuperate, he took the time to call you and asked if he could send you some donuts during one of your lunch breaks soon.

“I was wondering if– if you’ll be okay with me dropping some donuts off at your work during your break. It’s just my small token of thanks,” he said. He wished that he prepared a script ahead and practiced a handful more times, unconfident with the trembling in his voice and the small voice crack he hoped the phone didn’t pick up.

“Oh! Of course! That’d be great! Leave it at the front desk, to a certain Nurse Joyce and I’ll pick it up,” you gleefully say.

“That’d be awesome. So uh… see you soon, I guess?”

“See me soon? Are you implying that there’s going to be more than one occasion where we’re going to see each other–”

“Goodnight, nurse!”

He didn’t mean to sound rude or come off as a sourpuss but your words coming back to him when he thought it would stay only in the form of thoughts in his mind scared him, he just had to hang up.

After several dates and 5 months spent together as friends, Leon bashfully asked if you would want him as a boyfriend because he felt ready to be your boyfriend if you were ready for the commitment. His poor hands were gripping the bouquet too tightly, wrinkling the plastic wrapping around his large hands. His eyes looked comically round and almost puppy-like, especially with his dilated pupils. You nodded and said yes to him, gently taking the flowers and giving him a big hug. Before you went inside your door when he sent you home, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and blew him a kiss before going inside. Poor Leon stood frozen in front of your steps, pleasantly shocked as a wide grin made its way into his baby face. You stayed behind the door for a bit, listening to him. You swear you heard a giddy laugh and a silent “Yes!” from the other side.

Watching medical shows became a regular thing between you two. You pointed out some of the medical inaccuracies and explained what should actually be happening as Leon looked at you with hearts in his eyes. It was also vice versa: you watching a cop show with him and him breaking down the mechanics of how investigations are done while you nod and hum in agreement while silently swooning over the increasing animation of his hands as he went over the laws and breaches in ethics.

“Whew, that was so smart of you.” You say as you scooch closer to him and lean against his shoulder. This confused Leon at first.

“Huh? Why– what’d I do?” He anxiously asked, worried he did something wrong even though that didn’t seem to be the case.

“You really got into the nitty gritty of it and went into hypothetical scenarios with different outcomes of the situation. You know, I heard that you graduated at the top of your police academy.”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Uh, yeah… I did but it’s nothing, really. You’re really smart too, you know.”

Before you, Leon used to simply wash his cuts with water and anti-bacterial soap and not place a bandage over it. Now, he’s immediately asking you for band-aids whenever he has one. Sometimes, the band-aids look ridiculous: bright yellow band-aids with rubber ducks, Disney princesses, cartoons, or cute animal doodles but he doesn’t mind, it’s like a small piece of you that he carries into work, a small reminder of you keeping his wound guarded.

Leon’s now a regular at the hospital, you a regular at the police station. At the hospital, the older nurses and doctors like to grill him about you and how he’s treating you. Back at the police station, the officers like to share stories about all the times Leon embarrassed himself by accident or when he started out as a rookie. They loved to bring up how fast Leon managed to solve the puzzles they set up for him when he had his first day on the job, recommending challenging puzzle kits as a gift for him. What both your coworkers had in common was scrunching their nose and feigning dislike for your mild displays of affection like hugging and kisses to the cheek.

If Leon needed to request for a leave due to medical reasons, he considered himself lucky that you were qualified to be able to write up a medical certificate to present once he got back.

“Officer, I don’t think I can accept this.”

“Why not? It’s written by a medical professional, a licensed one too.”

“We don’t accept certificates coming from–”

“Someone we’re legally associated with? Yes. That includes parents, siblings, and spouses but they’re not my spouse. Well, not yet at least, so I think I’m free to go. Nothing in the handbook indicates that I can’t have my unmarried partner make my certificate.”

“... consider yourself lucky, officer. Fine, I’ll take it.”

He does consider himself lucky– more than lucky, in fact.

One time, he got curious and decided to ask to see the needles you use on patients. On a particularly silly mood that day, you decided to exaggerate a little bit. You took the needle meant for an epidural, a needle around 6 inches, and explained that this went into the spine. He had gone pale, the rosiness and pinkish tint of his face vanishing as you demonstrated how it would be used. You showed him the needles used for intramuscular injections and he adjusts the collar of his clothes, a little queasy at the thought of these scary devices being used on a near-daily basis.

There are some days where you’d come home completely silent and drained, feeling blue from the events that had gone down in the hospital. If Leon got home first, he’d be welcoming you with a beaming grin and open arms but once he spots the puffiness of your face indicative of crying, he pulls you in for a hug and immediately asks what’s wrong before listening to you and offering words of comfort or the solace of his presence with you.

Back then, he simply relied on fruits and the occasional vegetable for his vitamins but after dating you, you decided to slip some vitamins after meals into his diet. He particularly likes the gummy vitamins though you remember to remind him to take them out of the car so they won’t melt and turn into one cluster.

NOTE - Thank you so so much to the anon who sent this, I hope you liked it <3 I've been having writer's block for a bit so it took a long time to complete a request like this but I'm glad that I managed to get this done for you :) I didn't format this post like how I usually format it (w the dividers and text gradients) bc there's a major weather disturbance from where I live and it's affecting the signal and connection speed of the internet so I'll probably make this look pretty once the storm passes us. School starts again in like... a week so requests getting done will prolly take some time so I'll do my best to post everything before everything goes tits up in terms of academics. Anyway, that's it and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

[peachesyeo]

8/9... 8/8 - ATEEZ OT8 part one

THIS IMAGINE IS MATURE! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ friends!ateez x fem!reader (ft. straykids) ᭡ angst, mature.

✧ a/n: hi. erm. yeah. i guess. in a rainy and depressive mood these days, but i'll be fine. might take a while to update, please be understanding. thank you.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

⊂ content: shitty ateez (esp jongho & wooyoung) warning. name-calling, slapping, crying, stray kids being absolute angels. friendship problems, both sides are in the wrong. strong language. please don't hate jongho i love my baby bear pls, a little self-harming.

✦ network: @newworldnet

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

You sat on your bed, staring at your phone. 

Zero notifications. 

No calls, no texts. No one asked for you. 

Your fingers swiped open the group chat. The last message was sent by you, asking if anyone wanted to grab lunch together. 

Nine members, eight reads, zero replies. 

You put your phone down, thinking about your recent behaviour. Have you done anything wrong? Did you accidentally offend them? Or perhaps, say the wrong thing?

You sighed, throwing your phone to the side and looking at the frame photo by your bed. You and the boys were huddled together, laughing at the camera. It was San’s birthday, and all of you had come up with a surprise party. The nine of you, all together, celebrating, smiling.

When was the last time you hung out with them?

Was it… three months ago? Four?

“They’re probably busy, Y/n…” You muttered to yourself, blinking rapidly so the sudden tears that gathered in your eyes wouldn’t fall. You sniffed, shaking your head. “Stop over thinking, Y/n.” You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your fingers curling into a fist. “You’re fine. Stop behaving so childishly.”

You let yourself fall onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling above you. Every single time you send a message to them, they would reply dryly. 

Maybe they’re sick of you, Y/n. 

You closed your eyes, wrapping yourself up in a foetal position. 

Everything will be fine. 

You know something is wrong, Y/n.

No, everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. 

Stop lying to yourself. 

I’m not lying to myself. 

Are you?

“I’m not.” You whispered, your voice shaky and unconfident. Tears gathered up at your eyes as you tried to get yourself to sleep.

You woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily as you bent over to the side of the bed, retching dryly. You were covered in cold sweat, shaking as you recovered your breathing. 

The annoyed expression on your friends faces seemed so real, to the point that you cannot differentiate between your dream and reality. You raised your knees to your chest, hugging them as you tried to calm yourself down.

It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real

“A nightmare. It’s a nightmare.” You told yourself, covering your face with your hands. “Y/n, stop it. Stop overthinking, you idiot.”

You reached for your phone, tapping on Seonghwa’s chat.

You: Oppa, are you busy? | You: Oppa, are y| You: Oppa, a| You: Oppa, I had a nightmare.| You: Oppa, I ha| You: Oppa,|

You stared at the screen, your fingers pausing in mid air. 

You: Oppa| You: Op| You: |

You scrolled upwards, reading your previous chats. It was mostly you talking about your problems, and Seonghwa advising you on what to do. You swallowed your saliva, reading his replies, which were getting drier and drier as you scrolled down.

Hwa Oppa: Y/n-ah, sorry, I’m busy. Hwa Oppa: Ok. Hwa Oppa: Ttyl. Hwa Oppa: Mhm.  Hwa Oppa: K. Hwa Oppa: Can you text me later? Hwa Oppa: Kinda busy now.

You tapped on his profile. Online 3 hours ago. The time now is 2am.

A sense of helplessness swallowed you as you let the phone drop onto your bed. You looked outside of the window, letting out another sigh.

You can't sleep anymore.

Maybe you should try one more time?

Y/n: Oppa, can we talk?

Seonghwa frowned at the notification. In front of him, Mingi was hollering with the mic, along with San, who was shrieking at the top of his voice, abusing poor Yunho's ears, who was sitting nearest to the speaker.

"Who is that?" Jongho asked, peering at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh." He looked away uninterestedly, taking a mouthful of his alcohol.

"Y/n?" Wooyoung grabbed Seonghwa's phone, scowling. "Does she want to complain about her boring work problems again? I have enough of listening to her shit-"

"Wooyoung. Stop it." Hongjoong warned. The latter rolled his eyes, giving Seonghwa his phone back before going over to San to snatch his microphone. As they scuffle over it, Yeosang sighed, frowning.

"I still don't think it's a good idea leaving her out and ignoring her like that, hyung." He watched the two fight while Mingi continued to sing his heart out. "We should sit down at talk it out-"

"Listen, I've tried. But every single time she would talk about her stupid work problems, I just needed a break from her, okay?" Seonghwa shot back, irritated. Yeosang put his hands up in defeat, shutting up. Seonghwa turned his phone off, shaking his head. “I’ll just… text her later.”

Jongho snorted, turning his attention back to the singing trio. Yeosang bit his lip nervously, but Hongjoong clapped his back. “Hey, just chill. Y/n would be fine without us anyway, she has so many friends.” He stuffed a glass of beer into Yeosang’s empty hands. “Here, take a drink and just forget about her, okay? It's been some time since all eight of us can come out together.”

Yeosang’s fingers grip the glass nervously. Yunho, who had crawled over to their seat to get away from the speaker, saw his hesitancy and rolled his eyes. “Hyung is right, Yeosang-ah. Y/n wouldn’t die without us. We should have our Boys Night anyways. Just drink.” He pushed the glass to Yeosang’s lips, the younger finally taking a sip reluctantly. 

“Yeah.” He watched Jongho, who had joined in with the three at the front. “You’re right.”

It's not much of a problem.

Right?

Your phone buzzed. Your eyes lit up, grabbing it and scanning at it.

Felix (Baking Class): Hey, this is Y/n right?

You slumped in disappointment, but soon it turned to confusion. What's Felix texting you at 2am for?

Felix Lee, a sweet Australian you've met through your baking class. You have enjoyed talking to him, the both of you exchanging tales of your baking mishaps. None of the boys, not even Wooyoung, likes to bake. So only Felix understood your problems with baking.

You: Hey Felix. You: What can I do for you?

Felix (Baking Class): I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this but Felix (Baking Class): You're friends with Hongjoong hyung right?

You: Yeah Felix (Baking Class): Erm, so my friends and I were at the nuraebang Felix (Baking Class): Changbin hyung was recording er, Jeonginnie just now

Felix (Baking Class): It's not like we're eavesdropping or anything, but erm I think you should, listen to this

Felix (Baking Class): *video.mp4*

Something is wrong.

Yeosang forced a laugh as he sipped on his coffee. They were in San's house, eating breakfast. Wooyoung busied himself over the stove, while Hongjoong was muttering to himself, his hands furiously typing away on his laptop. Mingi continued to talk after getting a reaction from Yeosang, but the man's attention had drifted elsewhere.

"...and then that's it. My manager just let me off." Mingi smirked proudly, earning a thumbsup from Yunho and San. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. "You were lucky this time, Mingi-ah. Yeosang, eggs?"

Yeosang gave him a small shake of his head. "No thank you. Hyung, did you text Y/n?"

The kitchen went silent at the name. Even Hongjoong looked up from his screen. "Y/n?"

"Yeah. She erm, hasn't contacted us in a week?" Yeosang reminded, shaking his phone in their face. "She usually texts us in the morning in the groupchat-"

"C'mon Yeo, that's a good thing." Wooyoung came out of the kitchen, untying his apron and frowning at Yeosang. "Don't spoil the mood early in the morning."

"Maybe she's busy, Yeo." Yunho suggested, wolfing down his pancake. "She did say that her boss sent her for some field checks. And don't be so mean, Woo."

Wooyoung pouted. "I'm just annoyed at her. And why isn't Jongho back?"

Jongho felt guilty.

He sipped on his cup of americano nervously, glancing at you. You sat with your gaze lowered, fixated on your own cup, your eyes cast downward.

He had bumped into you at the supermarket while getting syrup for Wooyoung. He didn't know why, but when he saw you, he had this sudden desire to run away.

Like a little boy after making a mistake.

"Erm, Y/n, how are you?" He decided, speaking carefully. You looked up from your cup at him, before tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

"Jongho-ah. Please, be honest with me." You pressed the nail of your thumb into your skin, the piercing pain kept your tears in. “Do I… really annoy you guys? When I’m telling… No, when I'm complaining about…” You bit your lower lip, suddenly feeling pathetic. Then you breathed in, before speaking again. “You know what, nevermind. I heard that you guys needed a break from me- Don’t need to explain, I heard it for myself.” You stopped Jongho as he opened his mouth to explain. “I totally understand that. But I’m just here to tell you that leaving me out is not cool. We’re adults, Jongho-ah. You and the boys should have just told me.”

“W-we’re just afraid that you’ll be upset-” “So you guys started leaving me out? Ignoring my texts? Talking behind my back?” You pressed your thumb harder into your skin, angry tears welling up in your eyes. “Like a teenager in highschool? Choi Jongho, you know that’s not… that’s not…” You glared at him, your brain searching for the right word. 

“Not how you should behave as a friend.” Someone placed their hand behind your back, patting them. The both of you looked up to see Felix, who was holding up a cup of coffee. Behind him, Bang Chan and Jisung waved at you. You blinked quickly, forcing the tears to go back in and waved back at them, before turning your attention to him. “Lixie? What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast with my hyung and Han Jisung.” He jabbed his thumb back at the two of them. Felix then turned to Jongho, offering him a simple smile that did not reach his eyes. “Hi, I’m Felix. I heard a lot from Y/nnie about you.” He introduced himself, his hand never leaving your back. Jongho frowned, glancing from his hand and back to his face. 

“I’m Jongho.” His voice was unwelcoming. Your brows furrowed. “Jongho, that was ru-” “It’s okay. Sorry if I interrupted you guys, but hyung’s asking whether you wanna join us later for lunch. Minho hyung cooked the dish you said you’d like to try.”

Your eyes lit up at his words. “Really?” You exclaimed. Jongho observed your exchange with a stoic expression on his face. Felix nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call you later?”

You nodded. Felix patted your hair, gave a friendly nod to Jongho and returned back to his hyungs. As soon as he left, Jongho sneered. “So, you’ve been hanging out with those kind of people?” 

Your smile froze. “What did you say?” 

Jongho shook his head mockingly. “Them, Y/n L/n. Hanging out with Felix Lee and his stupid little gang?” He hissed. “What did they offer you? Money? Are you fucking with them?” 

You stared at him in disbelievement. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Jongho scoffed, sending a glare over to Felix. “You know they are rivals with Seonghwa hyung, right? They play around, Y/n. Are you being a whore for them-”

A loud, resounding slap echoed through the cafe, capturing the attention of everyone dining inside. Jongho touched his burning left cheek, slowly turning to face you. You were standing up, your chest heaving in anger and humiliation at Jongho’s words. Regret instantly flooded his eyes, as Jongho realized what he had said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Say that I’m a slut? For hanging out with a group of men?” You finished the sentence for him, your voice filled with anger and sadness. “Choi Jongho, you’re an asshole. Fuck you. You all are assholes!” You cursed as you grabbed your bag and headed out towards the exit. 

As you ran out, Jongho saw Felix and his friends hurried to follow you too. When his eyes met Felix’s, the latter smirked at him, and Jongho gritted his teeth. 

He fucked up.

➳ permanent taglist: @sousydive @oddracha @yeodeulz @jaerisdiction

[ckret2]

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth. 

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it. 

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring.  He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

[finchwingart]

OMG I'M YOUR FAN

I really wanted to know, do you draw humans too? Or just animals? Your style is very realistic, did you initially imagine having a style like that?

I draw humans very rarely, I'm just so unconfident with them n don't enjoy drawing them so much ToT In my gravity falls phase tho I drew SO MANY I was actually improving for once, but then I stopped lmao. Oops

Here's the One (1) 'human' character I have

about having a realistic style, it has it's ebbs and flows I guess? I love going really cartoony but drifted a little bit away from that during uni cause I was embarassed of it, which I'm really mad at myself at. I think I was worried people would look down on me for drawing lotsa cartoony animals but I was dumb. I do enjoy drawing more realistically though as it's very comfortable, drawing from reference is nice n simple, but I really need to stretch my muscles and try more cartoons n characters again bc stylisation is the hard bit tbh.

I do stuff like this sometimes!

[crispys-records]

travis is the whipped one in any ship hes in but i like to imagine hes especially whipped in zanvis.

like here he is pining for this hot emo freak with the most gorgeous eyes and beautiful laugh and he looks good in everything but especially all black and his voice makes u swoon and (ayesha erotica anyone)

travis gains more confidence once he graduates highschool. and when he realizes that zane lives on the same street as him, hes brought back to his immature highschool days staring longingly at any hot person who doesn't want anything to do with him who passes him in the halls.

hes 14 again, leaning against the lockers and talking to his confidence coach when he gets distracted. not by a hot girl, but by the prettiest boy hes ever seen, sulking to class with a glare that would make anyone faint. he clearly doesn't want a single person to go near him. and travis, ever the unconfident one, wants a piece of that. dante thinks its for a girl. like that hot katelyn chick travis used to stare at? its gotta be her. but sometimes travis will disapear after school, and dante will find him staring at something or someone behind the bleachers and he starts to piece together that travis's type in men is INSANE.

travis never ends up mustering up the courage, but now hes an adult. hes hotter, more charismatic, better. so he waltzes right up to zane's house, knocks on his door, and totally makes a fool of himself. zane sees right through it. he'd find it endearing if he cared, but theres better things to care about than some idiot trying to cozy up with him. So travis is mostly ignored.

zane's days are filled with monotony. he wakes up, gets dressed, works for several hours, and leaves the house for one reason or another. but at some point, travis starts appearing in his point of view, forcing himself into the routine. its not wake up, work, go out, sleep anymore. its wake up, work, talk to travis, sleep. they (reluctantly) exchange numbers. now its wake up, text travis, work, talk to travis, sleep. zane starts to miss when travis isnt there, starts to relish in those moments when they talk. his pride is too much, though, so he'll insist its because travis and aphmau are friends. hes adamant that aphmau's influencing him, that he and travis get along through no fault of his own. hes a tough, emo guy who hates the sun. he couldn’t possibly like a guy as bright as one. no matter how endearing he is. no matter how much he knows they like each other.

as their friendship grows, and they start to hang out with each other exclusively, zane realizes something. travis is popular. a lot of girls, and even some guys, fall for his stupid faux confidence shtick. in a way, it makes zane feel triumphant. he knows that its all an act. he knows the real travis. but it also pisses him off, how travis doesn't even brush them off when theyre together. theyre not in any kind of relationship, not like that. but zane knows travis likes him, so why isnt he saying anything? zane thinks about it more, and realizes that oh. he likes travis too. maybe even more than he realized.

its not long before zane's infamous glare reaches the others. people learn to steer clear of travis when zane's next to him. and as travis starts to second guess himself, zane grows more confident of his and travis's future relationship that hasnt even happened yet meanwhile, travis's confidence starts to slip again. why arent people coming up to him as much? is he unattractive? how can he impress zane without fans now? he starts to postpone his confession, worrying that he isnt worthy enough of zanes love and affection.nevermind the fact that zane's been more physically affectionate. zane leans on travis's shoulder now, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him along, plays with his hair when hes bored. travis is too wrapped up in his head to even realize that he has a chance.

meanwhile, zane, realizing travis wont be making a move anytime soon, wonders if travis even likes him anymore. why wasnt he paying attention to the affection hes been giving him? why wont he say anything? a quick conversation with aphmau later, and he figures out that if he doesnt make the first move, no one will, and theyll be stuck in this limbo forever. so zane does. he says fuck it one day and asks travis if he likes him. travis panicks, thinks that zane is disgusted, starts apologizing profusely, saying he was sorry that it was so obvious and how could he bother zane like that. hes rambling, he wont shut up. zane shuts him up with a kiss. and thats his answer.

zane is cool as shit btw hes so hot. travis is this pathetic loser and probably like taller than zane and is probably the top in the relationship but zane is COOL. he kabedons travis and says cool shit and takes the lead in the relationship. HES the handsome cool boyfriend and travis is the pathetic one. zane takes TRAVIS on dates. zane is the one who the pays the check at restaurants. god i love emo boys