#I just remember being REALLY pissed off that they never added Mona Lisa but they added fucking Shinigami and Ice Cream Kitty

[fabuloustrash05]

Imagine cannon Newtralizer meeting his TMNT Legends version. Bro would hate him so much meanwhile his other self would just say: "Listen buddy I don't give a fuck that we are enemies I prefer living then being dead and this is my only way of getting rid of the Kraang so screw off." (Off topic but the story for Legends is SO DAMN INTERESTING and I genuinely want a TMNT iteration that will have that kind of plot. I'll accept it being either a show or a movie idgaf I just want a TMNT with that kind of plot)

I have a love hate relationship with TMNT Legends.

I also don’t even remember the plot of the game nor what the characters were like in that iteration.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

and we danced

I’ve had this one sitting around for a bazillion years. Sequel to Faraday Cage, though I think I started this one first. Oh well, that’s been happening a lot.

Faraday Cage

prevented timeline 

Sunset in Beverly Hills was a time of peaceful winding down for some—very few, of course, but some—and for Johnny Cage in particular, it was a time to sit on his patio, crack a beer, and play with the new turntable Cassie had gotten him to replace the one that had been lost in the move. A few boxes of records stood about like milling party guests and he was going through them, deciding what to listen to first. There were albums of many genres, and not all of them were his. He held a Doors album that had belonged to his late ex-wife, Sonya Blade, and gripped his beer a little harder than was perhaps necessary.

 The sun sank lower, casting red-orange hues over the expanse of his home and yard, staining everything a rust color while the sky ran through shades of pink, lavender and, to the east, blue, Stygian and star-dotted, though only for the moment. As night’s blanket fell, the lights of the city—the brazen neon refusing to relinquish its hold upon the evening—would drown out those points of light, irreverently casting them aside as if they were shards of glass, rather than precious diamonds. A lot of life’s like that, Johnny considered, choosing a record and placing it gently upon the turntable, lowering the needle with relish.

 An almost muffled crack of thunder—how a lightning bolt could be muffled would forever remain a mystery to the aging actor—resounded across the yard just as night took hold and his hanging “fairy” lights came on, activated by the lack of ambient illumination. He looked up to see the protector of Earthrealm, Raiden, striding across the expanse of grass which marked his yard. He was glad his fences were high and his neighbors were, in all likelihood, out on the town.

 “Whoa Raiden—somethin’ wrong?” He was immediately alarmed and set his beer aside to stand and face the deity. In his defense, Raiden walked everywhere with purpose, as if something urgent was happening someplace and it required his attention. Johnny chalked it up to being a god, though perhaps it was simply Raiden’s personality. Some people had a hard time differentiating between Raiden’s duty and personality; they so often coincided that even the god himself seemed helpless in the face of that gap—if indeed gap there was. But Johnny knew better. The gulf was spanned with firm ties, but there was a divide. 

 “No, Johnny Cage,” said the god of thunder with relief in his voice. “I am sorry to have alarmed you.”

 “I wasn’t alarmed—just… y’know…” Johnny sat back down before realizing he should offer a chair. He stood once more and gestured to his.

 “You were,” the god corrected, “because you rarely refer to me in that way unless you are alarmed.”

 Johnny felt himself go red to the ears as Raiden took the offered seat and he retrieved another from the garden shed which was positioned off to one side of the patio. A push mower and a few lawn grooming implements were also placed therein, but for the time being, he was only interested in a chair. Grasping it with one hand, he lifted it and closed the doors behind himself, returning to the record player, the records, and the literal deity who had settled in his seat.

 “Should’ve known,” Johnny amended, setting his own on the other side of the player so he could still manipulate it. “I mean you’re… not in armor, so I guess shit can’t be that bad.”

 “An astute observation,” responded Raiden, regarding the machine, speakers, and vinyl disks. He touched none of these, knowing that even his presence could upset electronics, but wondering after their purpose. He was certain that the machine itself would be adversely affected by his lightning, even if the discs were not. Raiden was not ignorant of mortal machines or customs, just too busy to become intimately acquainted therewith. No one seemed to hold it against him.

 Rather, they found it endearing. This, for some reason, did not upset him. It delighted the god of thunder to know people found him… approachable. Long ago, he had relinquished the cloak of aloofness, finding mortals and their lives to be far too fascinating and precious to loftily hold himself above them. The irony is in my tardiness; Fujin understood eons ago what it has taken me much longer to learn. I am a fool.

 “So why are you here?” Johnny’s words fled his tongue before he could restrain them and he blushed once more as he reached for the beer he had discarded. “Sorry—not what I meant. What’s… uh… Up?”

 “A desire to commune with a friend,” said Raiden simply but in his usual elaborate fashion that made Johnny wonder if he should also be speaking that way—it was like feeling underdressed at a gala or five-star restaurant, but with words. “I would have called,” Raiden added after a moment, “but…” His hands rose, palms skyward to indicate that he had no means by which to contact Johnny—e.g. no cellphone. Magic amulets, of course, were plentiful if one knew where to look, but there was no need to saddle Johnny Cage with such an implement when he could simply touch down in the man’s back yard and speak with him personally.

 For Johnny’s part, the thought of Raiden texting sent a hysterical thrill through his body and he restrained the urge to laugh aloud. He made a mental note to say something to Cassie later, but for now, it was more important to focus on the fact that Raiden had come back after that weird afternoon a few weeks ago—or had it been months—when he had kissed him! 

 Johnny had been sure that would be the last he would see of the god of thunder, though he had hoped this would not be the case, and he had resigned himself to only hearing peripherally from the guy when Earthrealm was in peril. He had even gone through the “is he avoiding me” phase before the resignation had set in. It was almost thrilling to feel so young and stupid again. Next to him, I guess I am young and stupid.

 “Well, I’m havin’ a beer and listening to old records—and I’m all outta beer. Lemme put this sucker on.” He did just that, gently laying a record on the turntable and placing the needle, standing with what he felt was a thunderous crack of his knees and then straightened. “You want one?”

 “My body is a temple, Johnny Cage; I do not imbibe.”

 “Could be an amusement park, Sparky,” came the reply, but as he had never forced his alcoholic preferences on Liu Kang or any of his other White Lotus or Wu-Shi friends, he did not press and headed inside to grab a second beer and maybe breathe a little. In the background of his retreat, Jim Morrison’s voice filtered through the air and filled his back yard.

 Johnny’s fingers closed on the handle of his refrigerator door and he pulled it open, feeling nothing other than casual affection toward the strange being on his porch. As he reached toward the next beer, however, his mind began racing along, out of control. It felt as if casual affection was morphing. He needed the alcohol and the comfortable haze it promised. 

 His hand closed about the chilly bottle and he stood, regarding the singular illumination provided by his refrigerator and realized that he’d forgotten to turn any lights on. Sunset had come and gone and here he was, standing in his dark kitchen with the god of thunder relaxing on his patio and listening to the Doors. His heart began to pound and he fumbled with the bottle opener magnet. Casual affection was, indeed, quickly giving way to something which scared him.

 When he finally managed to free his bottle of its troublesome top and return to the door, intent on gaining the patio without fumbling anything, Raiden had once more removed his hat and cap and was running his fingers through his hair. Johnny wasn’t sure the guy knew he was standing there, hand poised just above the handle of his slider, watching that silvery-white stuff flow and wave, catching the warm illumination of his yard lights. Once more, he was assailed by the desire to see it spread out upon a pillow beneath him. 

 Johnny shook his head to clear that thought, swallowed hard and tugged the door open. Raiden straightened and shifted, softly glowing eyes turning toward his host. In the back of his mind, the actor wondered if Raiden could read minds. He had never asked, but he certainly hoped this was not the case. 

 “I apologize for arriving unannounced,” Raiden said, inclining his head. His hands had dropped from his hair and were poised almost demurely in his lap. Johnny shrugged and remembered that he was supposed to walk out and join Raiden on the patio, rather than standing in the doorway, frozen by the man’s divine beauty. 

 Fortunately, the possessor of the divine beauty in question did not seem to notice and as Johnny uprooted himself, he turned, politely, and resumed his relaxed position on the seat. Johnny could not help noticing, with offhanded curiosity, that the seat didn’t sink much with the god’s weight as it did with his own. Weird.

 “It’s fine,” Johnny assured him, raising a hand. “Really. It was just gunna be me and this record player.” He reached over and turned the volume dial down so they could converse without difficulty. Raiden’s voice, he had noticed, was firm, but gentle—except when he was pissed. The commanding tone doubled his voice, amplifying it to the point where it seemed to come from everywhere and rattled in Johnny’s ribcage and skull. He was glad this was not the voice he was hearing. “I’m glad you’re here, actually.”

 Once more, Johnny’s words were getting ahead of his brain and, as usual, he could not retract what had been said. It wasn’t a lie, of course, or an exaggeration, but some things were best left unsaid. He lifted the beer to his lips defensively, but the statement was already out there, hovering in the air between them.

 Raiden watched him with a Mona Lisa expression, almost half of a smile, certainly relaxed, and knowing, as ever. Johnny prayed he would not ask why the mortal was glad to see him. He did not have the energy for that explanation, short though it should have been. Just tell him you wanted to see him again because you’ve got a thing for him, simple as that. Liu was right. Better to get it out in one go and see what happens. Worst he can do is vaporize me.

 Johnny decided that was an unkind thought and busied himself digging through his records; better to do that than prolonging the awkwardness of the utter lack of conversation. Fortunately, Johnny was the only one feeling awkward, as Raiden seemed content with the musical quietude and had settled back in the provided chair, inscrutable eyes focused on nothing in particular, and then falling on Johnny’s back as he crouched near a box, having himself a trip through memory lane. A warm wind began to pick up, coming off the ocean and bringing with it the smell of salt.

 “That you, big guy?” Johnny, as usual, broke the silence. Raiden shook his head.

 “No,” he responded. “I am the god of thunder, Johnny Cage, not wind.”

 There was humor in his tone and a levity that Johnny had come to appreciate, even to crave. It was so rare, even now, when everything seemed to be at peace. Shifting from his crouched position to one of kneeling, Johnny clutched a record in one hand and reached for the turntable with the other. Raiden could not see what was on the cover, but even if he could, it would be insignificant. In all his time and travels, he had rarely taken the opportunity to sit and absorb the music of Earthrealm—or any other realm, for that matter.

 “Raiden I—”

 “Johnny Cage—”

 Both men paused as they began simultaneously and then that strange, utterly human embarrassment settled over them like the blanket of night which had tucked itself in for the evening. Johnny turned to face Raiden, still half-crouched. The god of thunder was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, glowing eyes meeting Johnny’s without reservation. There was something in those eyes; right then they were not as inscrutable as they had been in the past. Or maybe I’m just getting better at reading him, Johnny thought, unsure if he was comfortable with this.

 “Please,” ushered Raiden finally, extending a hand toward his mortal companion. Johnny shook his head.

 “Age before beauty,” he insisted, attempting to introduce humor to a situation in which it may not have been appropriate, a very on-brand move for him. His heart was seizing and then hammering and then fluttering, as if there was some kind of small bird within, fighting desperately to escape. Johnny was not even clear within himself just what it was he wanted Raiden to say, or what he himself was attempting to express. He had been content simply allowing his mouth to run away with him, to see where it would take this situation. Now, faced with the reality of what a runaway tongue might cause, he was terrified. To busy his hands, he gingerly switched records as Raiden conceded. 

 “Very well, although I have heard on the breeze that some mortals find me to be… exquisite.” This, too, seemed to be an introduction of humor, so Johnny didn’t feel as silly as he might have done otherwise. Raiden sat back, looking almost impish, and certainly amused.

 “Fujin promised he wouldn’t tell!” Johnny’s tone was jesting, but his heart continued its staccato tattoo. He had not, in fact, spoken with Fujin in quite some time—like Raiden, the man was busy. If he had, it certainly wouldn’t be to confess some kind of high school crush on a celestial being’s equally divine brother. Twins, he reminded himself, they’re twins—Thunder Cat told Cassie and me recently. Weird. 

 They were night and day, Fujin and Raiden, but Johnny assumed that twins among gods did not operate the same as mortal twins. Or perhaps they did and he simply had no firsthand knowledge. The only twins he had ever encountered were a pair of actresses in one of his films—notably not the Ninja Mime franchise. The music began, but it was secondary to the melody of Raiden’s voice as he spoke.

 “He did not have to,” said Raiden, his tone warm, almost inviting—or maybe that invitation was a misinterpretation of Johnny’s fevered mind as he tried to lose himself in a swig of beer and an ‘80s power ballad whose title was lost in the cyan pools of Raiden’s eyes. “I know it is not an appropriate custom,” he continued, “to leave someone for long periods of time with no contact, but the nature of my—of what I am—dictates that I must. Forgive me for that, if you can.”

 “Anything,” Johnny breathed. He realized that he had not yet been able to return to his seat, so enraptured was he in Raiden’s gaze. The soft, warm illumination of his backyard lighting fell upon Raiden’s statuesque face and, rather than making him look ghoulish as it might do to just about anyone else, he became an older Adonis, still painfully handsome—beautiful, even—but no longer pretty in that fleeing way of youth. His face lacked the innocence of a younger man and Johnny realized he had come to appreciate this, craved it too, along with much else.

 “Your kindness does you great credit, Johnny Cage,” Raiden said.

 It ain’t kindness. This is so far beyond that, Johnny thought, his mind losing itself in that strange warm haze of beer, good music, and good company. Without thinking, Johnny shifted once more, moving closer to the god of thunder and reaching out toward him, laying a hand upon his knee. There was a low buzz when he did that, not a sound, but a feeling under his palm and fingers, dancing up his arm. He squeezed, feeling his heart clambering in his throat and wondering if Raiden’s was doing the same—or if he even had a heart. What operated within the body of a being like him? 

 Was it all clockwork, or maybe ethereal light? He had seen Raiden bleed and the blood was red, but when it caught the light, it was clearly shot through with veins of gold, unless his eyes deceived him all those years ago. When it hit the ground, it clattered as if solid. He did not understand this, but all the times he witnessed this, Johnny had been more than a little preoccupied. Gods were not supposed to bleed; it was anathema to their nature. Yet Raiden and Fujin could bleed and, more than that, they chose to bleed for the peace and safety of Earthrealm.

 “You don’t have to say anything,” Johnny advised, speaking low, loud enough to be heard, but not to drown out the music. He was responding to a look on Raiden’s face that suggested he was searching for words. His smile was more tentative now, leaning in the direction of the Mona Lisa, inscrutable and ethereal. He clearly wanted to relax, to allow whatever was happening within him simply to happen. The mortal could almost see the fight in his eyes. It broke Johnny’s heart and he wanted, all of a sudden and more than anything in every realm, to help Raiden move past whatever was slowing him down, whatever strange barrier stood between the god of thunder and his happiness, his own desires. 

 The deity had no trouble being decisive, even vicious, and dropping one whopper of a hammer when the need arose, but that need was never his own; always, it was someone else’s burden, though he would remind Johnny Cage that it was a responsibility he had chosen and for which he would fight to the death—maybe beyond. This scared the actor, sometimes. He didn’t know if he had ever, or COULD ever, dedicate himself to something with such vehemence. Had he expressed this aloud, Raiden might simply have pointed out his daughter, Cassandra Cage. 

 “I do,” rumbled the god of thunder. “My silence has done damage in the past.”

 “Everyone’s has,” Johnny reminded him, moving so he was crouching before Raiden, both hands comfortably on the man’s knees. His connection with the ground seemed to be strong enough that the current was running harmlessly through him. Raiden’s corona of electricity was not arcing or dancing about, seeking to harm him. It simply flowed, rather like water, from the eternal battery that was the thunder god, into Johnny Cage, and down through the earth. Whence beyond that was anyone’s guess. “But this isn’t silence, is it?”

 Raiden reflected that it was not, in fact, silent in that yard. There was music, and there was the two of them, and they were capable of conversation, of healthy discussion, and of much else. He moved with a deliberate purpose that froze Johnny momentarily, both hands finding either side of the actor’s head, a motion he had seen turn healthy muscle, bone, and gray matter into so much electrified pulp. 

 Rather than lightning from Raiden’s fingers, however, he felt the soft press of lips on his own, not urgent, but hardly tentative. This, he realized, was a version of Raiden who knew what he wanted, even if part of him was still unsure he should want it. Johnny would like to flatter himself—it really would be hubris at that point—and think that Raiden had spent all that time away thinking about him, about how to do this. If no one disabused him of that little flight of fancy, he would gladly go on pretending it to be the case. 

 To that end, Johnny returned the gesture, pressing into it and forcing Raiden back into the comfortable seat. The beer spilled somewhere in the grass and its memory was lost in the haze of heat the actor had found between the two unlikely beings—and between Raiden’s thighs. 

 Johnny’s hands were now gripping these, firm and powerful, through the strange material of his pants. He had in the past made a mental note to ask Raiden of what his clothing was made, if it could be manufactured for himself and the SF “kids” (when you were old, everyone was a kid). Right now, that thought was not even in the same galaxy as the rest of his mind. Right now, he only felt that heat; he was a being of pure sensation and would be more than happy to drown in it.

 Slowly, gently, his hands slid upward. His thumbs soon found Raiden's hips through the fabric of what Johnny considered his "habit". His grip tightened briefly, testing the waters. The music hummed on, but Johnny heard nothing. His focus was solely on Raiden, whose grip had shifted to the front of his shirt, grasping the lapels of Johnny's button-down. He seemed content to keep the Hollywood superstar as close as he possibly could. Johnny's hands traced the curve of Raiden's waistline which, though offset by leather and cloth, was pleasantly molded, almost perfectly to Johnny’s grip, like the narrow portion of an hourglass. 

 He heard himself moaning quietly into the kiss while the epiphany of his attraction to the thunder god’s shape washed over him like an ocean wave. His heart's rhythm had regulated itself and was thudding along steadily, if a bit strongly. Blood was rushing to all parts of him and he felt himself break out in a sudden sweat. Maybe he's frying me and doesn't realize it; isn't this what radiation poisoning feels like? He had to remind himself that Raiden was not, in fact, radioactive. 

 “Dance with me,” Johnny heard himself say suddenly, breaking the kiss with plenty of surprise, but no reluctance at all, eager to share this next, utterly unforeseen desire. Raiden, too, seemed more than a little astonished, glowing eyes widening momentarily, before softening. In fact, his entire countenance softened, assuming the look of something more accessible than merely a benevolent deity which, Johnny reflected, he was. He’s seen some rough shit, thought the actor as he stood, hearing his knees crack once more as he did so, pulling Raiden with him. So have I. Now I want some peace and quiet.

 Raiden stood willingly, unsure of what was next. It was a refreshing feeling. In all the eons of his life, he had rarely felt unsure of something and also been very comfortable with it. Lack of information had often led him to make poor decisions. This was not one of those situations, however. He was not really making any decisions, save to follow Johnny’s steps as the mortal pulled him close, wrapping one arm about his waist and taking his other hand.

 Johnny was surprised, as he had been when noticing the lack of weight upon the chair, at how easy it was to heft the god of thunder, so to speak. He was not picking the man up, yet, but even the act of moving him from a seated to a standing position was utterly without strain. It felt natural to draw Raiden to himself, pressing their bodies tightly together, all potential awkwardness draining away in the notes of the song coming from the speakers attached to the turntable. 

 When he held out his hand to receive Raiden’s, the god of thunder offered it with no hesitation or complaint. When Johnny pulled him close, he did not protest. When they began to move to the ebb and flow of the music, it was very much as if they were made for this. When the mortal manipulated the deity’s movements and body into a deep dip, he felt Raiden bend and ride along with the motion. 

 When he kissed the god of thunder, both men held tightly to the lifeline the other had become.

[truemanblack]

A/N: guess who’s back? I think the only day I won’t be updating is on this Thursday? I’ve been in a writing mood! but hey I made a playlist and I’m slowly adding to it. You can listen to it RIGHT HERE!!!

The Marriage: Part Four  Two Three

Harry and I had been sexting all day. It was funny how it started, looking back at our texts. It was so causal, I could see him sitting in his desk in class sending me these. While I was walking around some random mall in California. I was always curious why Harry went to a school in San Diego instead of Los Angeles. There was something about Los Angeles I hated, it was full of snobs and I just couldn’t deal. I was looking for a dress to wear on Saturday for our wedding (it’s still bizarre to say that). I was in the middle trying to decide if the dress I’m looking at was wedding “appropriate” Low cut front, nice and flowy, backless. Then a ping went off when I was pulling it off the rack. 

Harry: God, I can’t wait to be properly buried inside of you. You’ll be begging me to stop.

I love how Harry still kept up his proper English in his texts, for some reason it really turned me on. I took the dress to the dressing room as I was trying to figure out a good reply.

Aimee: Hm, I don’t think I’ll be the one begging to stop. I think you’ll be so drained of cum you’ll have to stop.

I gave myself a pat on the back for that one, along with sending him a nice nude pic for him to simmer with while I tried on the dresses I’ve gathered. I hated shopping, I tried to convince Harry to wear Hawaii shirts, but he noted we did have to be a little serious, the fat Elvis was already pushing it. The dress I was worried would be too “flashy” was the only one I liked. I think Harry wouldn’t mind it either, well come to think of it, I don’t think he cares I think he’s going to be thinking about taking it off. The next thing was buying a ring for Harry, which was going to be hard, since he’s flashy as ever with his rings. I was thinking a simple white gold band, so it wouldn’t clash too much with his others, cheaper as well, I only had so much I put away for splurging. I heard a ding on my phone – which for some reason startled me.

              “Hey there,” I looked up from my dirty text from Harry. Axel, of fucking course, it’s him.

Harry: You still think you’re in control, eh? I think not. I think your cute little ass would look covered in bruises.

That one made me squirm a bit, that a was weakness, and his hands were nice.

              “Hey,” I said shyly trying to cool down face, so I wouldn’t be blushing too hard.

              “What are you up to?” Oh shit. Harry and I discussed this morning, after a nice make out session, that we must start telling people about us so if immigration reaches out people will know we got married.

              “Wedding dress shopping.” I shrugged, though I was screaming on the inside. I could tell Axel would try to control a girl, but I really wanted to put him in his place after graduation.

              “Oh,” He was taken aback, “You’re getting married?”

              “Yeah, Harry and I-”

              “Harry?” I nodded, and pretty pissed he irrupted me. “They guy you were with the other day.”

              “Uh, yes, my boyfriend.”

              “I’m confused.”

              “Well, I think he’s my fiancé right now, but we’ve been friends for so long and we kinda of just fell into it and impulsively just decided to get hitched this weekend, and to see The Beatles cirque du soleil.”

              “Oh, well congrats, I have to get going.” Axel walked off before I could even say goodbye. I was more shocked that he fucking believed me. I needed to reply to Harry before he thought he got me.

Aimee: What about your cute little perky ass, daddy? It needs some lovin’

I sent him another nude I took while in the dressing room. I felt good about that one, not my best, but he was probably hard on his way home. I ordered and uber and made my way home, hoping to be there before Harry.

Which I did, I was running to my bedroom to find the shorts. Well Simon dubbed them the ass eating shorts, because they were pretty much doing that. I remember when I first moved in, I wore them around Harry and I couldn’t even to get him to respond to me, of course, I was loving it, but I had to be all shy and act as if I hated it; and stored them away. I heard the door unlock and I quickly put on a sweatshirt and walked out to see Harry.

              “Hey,” I watched him as he glared at me as he kicked off his shoes. “Hello?” I tried to act annoyed, but I knew he was truly annoyed. I walked towards him and put my hands on his back as he was walking towards the kitchen.

              “You’re such a brat,” He sighed shaking his head and I gave a pinch to his butt. He turned around and wrapped his arms around my waist, causing me to yelp. He picked me up and walked up both to the couch. I couldn’t help but to laugh as he did, he had me over his shoulder – which just made me continue to squeeze and pinch at his ass. “You think you’re so cute?” His voice was low as he threw me down on the couch. (Which was very hot, I was very turned on by that). I giggled in return as he straddled over me. “Take your hoodie off.”

              “No, I have nothing on under there.” I closed my eyes as he slipped his hands under the hoodie. “Plus, you get to see me all in less than two days, can’t you hold out.”

              “Not when you’re giving me photo preview and not a real one.”

              “You’re such a greedy boy, Harold.” My voice was low, and a smirk played on my lips. He was rolling his eyes while his hands were busy touching my bare torso. As they inched up towards my breasts. “You go there, and I’m going to punish you.” I moved one of my legs around his knee.

              “Yeah, I feel like you’re the one who needs punishing. You’re just teasing me, calling me daddy, you’re being a brat.”

              “Aw boohoo, Harold isn’t getting what he wants, how sad.” I brought one of my hands up to knuckle at my pretended to cry, which just made him hold one of my arms above my head.  So many girls got away with just being a ‘good girl’ to Harry. “I’m not a dog, so you’ll never see me be a good girl.” I tried to sit up and was quickly pushed back down by Harry. He pressed his hips to mine and moved his hand to my throat. I gripped his wrist and tried to give him an Indian burn to have him let go.

              “Can’t talk now, huh?” I pointed at his hand and rolled my eyes, he tightened his hand and I moved my foot to his stomach – which caused him to let go. He looked surprised and let go. I think he thought I was at my limit, which made me feel good. All the times he made my gullible ass believe him. I pouted and put my hands around my neck as if I was in pain. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” He was off the couch by now kneeled in front of me.

              “I jus-” I stood up and he followed me. “I can’t believe you’re so gullible.” I groaned as I tackled him to the ground. I put one of my hands around his neck – it wasn’t as effective as his was, which just made him smirk.

              “Aw, look at you, trying to be all tough.” I rolled my eyes as I looked on my person to tie his wrist with. The string from my hoodie will do. I quickly yanked it out and tried my best to get his wrist to his chest. “You’re not doing that, it’s gonna come loose, you know little brat, it’s not gonna stay.” I tied tighter, hoping the rough cotton would leave a mark.

              “Do you ever just shut the fuck up?” I groaned taking the hair tie from his wrist and pulling my hair up it. Tonight, Harry was going to learn, I really loved orgasm denial. I moved between his legs and started undoing his belt, then letting his jeans pop open. They were obviously too tight on him; the belt kept his pants buttoned. “Lift your hips,” I looked at him and a smirk was all over hips lips. “Lift your hips.” He still didn’t budge. So, I yanked his jeans off as roughly as I could. I heard him suck in his breath. “If you just listen to me, I won’t hurt you.”

Harry was already hard, I mean I already knew that, but he was really hard. His underwear was already stained with pre-cum. I pulled at the band, and Harry lifted his waist. I didn’t want to encourage him at all. But wow, he has a beautiful cock. Just like art, cocks are very subjective. If there was a cock louvre, his would be the Mona Lisa. The head was already blushing red, a vein that ran up the side. It was twitching a bit, I think he knew what was going on.

              “Are yeh gonna do anythin’?” The drunker or (now finding out) hornier Harry got, the thicker his accent got.

              “I kinda of want you to beg.” I put my arms on each of his knees. “I would like that, very much actually.”

              “For fucks sake.” He groaned, and I pouted.

              “Oh, I suddenly remember, I don’t want to suck your cock.” I sighed and crooked my head to my side. “Unless you wanna convince me.”

              “You know I can get up right?”

              “But are you? I mean you have me right here, between your legs, with your cock right there.” I blinked at him and he arched his back and groaned. “I mean, I think my mouth is the closest thing you’ll get right now to what you would call ‘my pretty little cunt’, hm? What do you think, baby?”

              “Please.” He whispered. I could get up and do a happy dance.

              “I’m sorry, I couldn’t here you, baby.”

              “Please.” He spoke up a bit more, it wasn’t enough. I really wanted to get it out of him. He was gripping at his fingers and twirling at his rings – since it was the only things he could grab at.

              “Please what? I don’t speak baby talk.” He huffed, and I couldn’t be more excited, I could let him cum, but I’m not.

              “Please suck me.” He whispered, I could tell that’s probably the most I was going to get out of him – well at least now. I would try at a later date to have him whine that. I grinned and gladly took him into my mouth. I wanted to tease him, so I took just the head in giving it a light suck, then licking up his length. I paused for a second looking at him, his eyes were open, and pupils dilated. I grinned and heard him whine, I’m assuming from me holding out for so long. I took him in my mouth, hollowing my cheeks and finding a rhythm. I kept my hands at his base to give me a break now and again, but I craved his weight on my tongue. I took him in deeper, trying to get most of his length (which would be a bit difficult) but I could tell he was close.

              “Yeh can’t even get all of me in yeh pretty little mouth, take it easy.” He was breathy, his cock was twitchy, and I knew I had to stop. Especially after that.

I stood up and brushed off my clothes. “Yeah no.” I groaned and started to walk towards the kitchen.

              “What the fuck!” Harry yelled as I shuffled through the kitchen to find a water bottle. “You did this already before, you fucking, can’t.”

              “I just did.” I grinned looking back at him. I felt like it was a but unfair to leave him tied up. I started walking towards him and untie his wrists and quickly walked away from him.

              “I can’t fucking stand you, why do you keep doing this to me.” Harry quickly stood up pulling his pants and underwear up.

              “Don’t talk to me the way you did, and I won’t do that.” I grinned, and he pinned me against the wall. I could still feel how hard he was just from him pressing his hips to mine. He quickly turned me around so my chest to was towards the wall and held my wrists in his hand while the other has my ponytail wrapped roughly around his hand.

              “You better fucking listen good,” Harry’s lips were right against my ear. “I’m going to let you cum, and it’s the only time you’ll feel cum coming out of that greedy little cunt of yours all weekend.” I giggled as he spoke, I just couldn’t take him seriously as he just was begging for me moments before. He let go of my ponytail and roughly pulled my shorts down. “You knew what you were doing the moment you put those shorts on, you didn’t even wear panties you, little slut.” His fingers quickly found their way inside of me and he was thrusting them hard and fast. I was on my tip toes. I bit at my lips so he wasn’t able to get not even a moan from me, except I knew I was gonna cum really quick since it’s been so long.

              “Look at yeh,” He breathed in my ear as his thumb found its way to my clit and he was roughly circling it. “Drippin’ for me, all down yeh legs.” I could feel skin break from inside my lip. I was so close, and he said he was going to let me cum. I closed my eyes as he changed his pace, making his fingers drag out slowly while his thumb stayed at the same pace. “Cum, yeh not gonna be doin’ it for long.” I tried to hold out longer, but I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes and exhaled, I was just proud that he didn’t get a sound out of me. He kept going until I started stomping my feet.

              “Stop!” I groaned, and he pulled away. He slipped his fingers in his mouth and moaned.

              “Such a shame I won’t be tasting that for a bit.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my shorts back up. I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and moved to Harry on the couch. “I did get to cum,” He was back to his cool calm self. I shook my head and rested against the arm of the couch. “I do mean it no cum for you.”

              “Can’t deny your wife like that.” I replied, and he smirked.

              “I mean I have a whole year to not have you cum.”

              “You wouldn’t fucking dare.” Harry laughed, and his dimples popped out. He glanced over at me before lancing his fingers and looking at them.

              “You’re oddly, okay about this.” He glanced at me, his face was softened. “Like, I’m totally cool with it don’t get me wrong, but you’re like really okay with it.”

              “I currently don’t have a brain; vagina has taken over.” It was true, I wasn’t really thinking about my actions or thinking this through. “The marriage, I’m for sure about, the sex, you’re gonna have to fuck me a few times before the haze is gone.”

              “You’re a dick for brains right now?” Harry laughed his eyebrow raising.

              “That’s all you got out of that?”

              “No, I just know I’m gonna have to prepare for spazzy anxiety Aimee again soon.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing, just means I’ve got to figure out a way to last longer. Keep you blissed out.”

              “Jesus Christ."

[romanssippycup]

Undeniably Important Chapter 2: Breakfast Break

Chapter 2 here. I hope you enjoy this!

Part 1

7:08 am

Logan slowly stirred awake. His eyes opened to be met with pure and utter darkness. Logic felt around his face to see if he could adjust his glasses through the darkness, but they were met with his book instead. Shock overtook him as he realized what sleeping position he had slept in. He had been sitting up straight while watching the movie, but for some reason he must have face planted straight into the book he was reading. He couldn't have been that relax- oh wait! The milk. Right.

He remembered that the movie was quite boring and had started to read again, but he didn't remember reading too much. Goodness he must have looked so ridiculous sleeping like that. Logan sighed with slight annoyance as he raised his head from his open book and marveled at the slight face print he had left in it. He began to smooth out the pages, when he heard a small amount of clatter in the kitchen. (the couch him and Anxiety fell asleep on was the couch facing the kitchen.) He looked up and saw Morality quietly making waffles.

Patton had not noticed that he was awake yet, until he heard a yawn coming from the right of Logan.

It seems Anxiety had awoken as well. His sleeping position looked much more comfortable as he had his elbow on the arm of sofa with his chin in hand.

Morality smiled and waved at the two traits on the couch. "Good morning kiddos! You two were out like a light last night. It was almost like someone 'switched' you off. Heehee."

Logan groaned halfly because he needed to stretch. "Morality. It is too early in the morning for this." He put his book aside, stood up from the couch and stretched as he walked to his room.

Anxiety watched Logan get up and walk away. He groggily checked the microwave clock in the kitchen across from him.

7:17 am.

He clicked his tongue once in annoyance and dozed off not wanting to even move an inch from his position. He had such a peaceful time sleeping he didn't want it to be over.

"Breakfast at 7:30!!" Morality yelled at the top of his lungs." Anxiety's eyes snapped open.

Princey burst out of his room with a broom in his hand and began to sing.

"7 am the usual morning line up!" Anxiety rolled his eyes. Oh great he was singing Tangled. And he was 20 minutes late. And he was using the broom as a microphone. Charming.

"Start on the chores and sweep 'till the floor is clean!" Princey clapped and summoned a couple personified brooms to help with his 'chores'.

"Polish and wax. Do laundry and mop and shine up!" As he said each action, the tools necessary for each chore would appear and disappear as soon as they had materialized. God, that smile he gave when he said 'shine up' had to be as big as his ego. And it fricking sparkled too.

"Sweep again and by then its like 7:15..." Princey twirled his broom with ease.

"...and so I'll read a book..." Princey materialized a copy of one of Logic's favorite books in his hands and instantly tossed it over his shoulder with no regret. It was at this very moment that Logan had finished getting dressed and was walking out back into the living room.

"...or maybe two or three..." Princey summoned two more books and chucked them over his shoulder, well aware that Logic could see what he just did.

Logan's eyes widened and he dove for the three books that were just about to hit the ground. Just before he caught them though, Princey snapped his fingers and all three books disappeared causing Logan to catch the floor instead. Both Morality and Anxiety chuckled.

"I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery!" Princey continued on as if he did nothing wrong while adding a couple of famous artworks to the white walls in the mind palace such as the "Mona Lisa" and Van Gogh's "Starry Sky".

"I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically. Just wondering when will my life begin?"

"When you decide to get one." Anxiety answered back as soon as he finished singing the last line.

"Oooooooooooooooooh!!" Morality covered his mouth and giggled.

Logan would have laughed had he not been straightening up his tie, dusting himself off, and being salty in general.

"Excuse me Mr. Snape did I ask you to answer a rhetorical question? Because last time I checked, I wasn't looking for your opinion." Prince shot back.

"You ask a stupid question. You will get a stupid answer." Logan stated dryly as he fixed his crooked glasses.

"Ugh! Logan it was part of the song."

"Right. And I'm sure tricking him into 'falling' for his books that weren't even real was part of the song too. Granted that was hilarious, but if it were me, I'd be a little pissed too." Anxiety antagonized.

"Well, perhaps that is true, but it's Logan. When does he feel anything about anyone?"

Footsteps and a door slam was all Princey heard.

"Ouch." Anxiety grimaced.

Morality teleported in front of Princey. "Go apologize right now Roman!"

"What? And give him the feelsy stuff? He wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not. But, at least show that you didn't mean what you said." Morality was sad that Roman's song had to end like this. It had been such a good morning until this happened.

"Yeah Princey. Even I'm not so mean as to say something like that. What has gotten into you?" Anxiety stood up and walked over with a disappointed look on his face.

"Look I was caught up in the moment, okay? I was in my zone."

"That is no excuse Roman. You will apologize to Logan-" A timer went off in the kitchen. "As soon as we eat breakfast. Roman you set the table this time!"

"What!? But-"

"No butts." Patton waggled a finger and smirked threateningly.

"Ugh. Fine." The broom in his hands dematerialized as he sulked over to grab the silverware and plates. "Ugh, this is a maiden's job."

"Oh it suits you perfectly then." Anxiety smirked. "I mean you were singing Rapunzel's song this morning. I guess its only fitting for you."

"I swear Anxiety-"

"Kiddos! No fighting at the breakfast table. Or I'll have to bring out the wooden spoon-"

Roman and Anxiety looked at each other, and then back at Morality.

"We...aren't fiv-"

"-To serve bacon with!"

"You...don't serve bacon with-" Anxiety tried to protest, but Morality had already served everyone up their portion of food...using a spoon.

"-apparently he can." Roman finished.

"Alright kiddos. Eat up! Logan ya coming?" Morality yelled from his spot at the table.

No answer. "Aw. Well, I suppose someone should take it to him. Why don't you do it Roman? You owe him that much." Morality smiled big at Roman who just fake grinned.

Roman sighed. "Ugh. Oh fine. But I will be choosing the board game we play tonight."

Anxiety grunted. "If we play Pretty Pretty Princess again tonight, I'll make sure you never get your 'beauty sleep' again."

"Aw, don't be such a spoil sport Andrew. You looked good in all that jewelry and I thought you enjoyed Make-up."

"Heehee!" Morality pulled out his phone. "I still have the pictures."

"Oh really? Let me see!" Roman and Morality giggled at the pictures while Anxiety just hid in his hoodie.

"Oh for crying out loud! Stop trying to guess my name!"

Patton and Roman just ignored him and continued looking at Morality's phone still giggling.

"Fine. I'll just take it to him myself so I won't have to deal with you idiots. Ugh. God." Anxiety got up from the table in a huff and began to put Logan's food on a tray.

He opened the fridge to look for the orange juice. He had found Logan's glass that he drank the milk from last night, washed it out and replaced it with orange juice. He set the glass on the tray, left the kitchen, and walked towards Logan's room.

7:42 am

Anxiety stopped outside of Logan's door and knocked twice. His voice was heard, but it didn't sound normal.

"Who is it?"

"It's me. Anxiety."

Logan opened his door from the inside. "You can come in."

Anxiety pushed the door open and made his way into Logan's room. This was his second time he had ever been in Logan's room. It didn't look too much different than when he first saw it. It was pretty close to a college dorm room, except with more space.

Logan was at his desk obviously working on Thomas's to do List.

"Thank you Anxiety." Logan said. He didn't even look up from his work.

Anxiety set the tray next to him on his desk. He set down the silverware and napkins on the tray.

"You're welcome Logan." Anxiety turned to leave.

"You can stay if you wish." Logic looked up from his work at Anxiety who had a hand on the door knob.

Anxiety stopped in his tracks clearly thinking about what he wanted to do. He turned the doorknob and closed the door from inside. He walked over and sat on Logan's bed. He teleported his food, drink, and silverware inside Logan's room from the kitchen because he was too overwhelmed to face those two buffoons again.

Logan was slightly annoyed that Anxiety just sat on his bed without asking, but he let it slide and continued working.

Anxiety ate his food in peace while using one of Logan's dressers as a table.

All that could be heard in the room was the scribbling of Logan's pen and Anxiety's muffled chewing.

7:50

Logan finally put his pen down and began to eat his breakfast starting with the waffle. He turned and faced anxiety. To which Anxiety felt extremely uncomfortable, but he would only bare with it until both of them were finished eating.

Anxiety finished first. He sat back, wiped his mouth, and continued to scroll through tumblr avoiding eye contact with Logan who was now finishing up his bacon.

Anxiety was about to take his plates to the sink, when Logic whisked his hand and all the dirty plates in his room teleported to the sink themselves.

"AAAAAAHHH!!" muffled screams came from the kitchen causing Anxiety and Logan to smirk. "Demon plates!? Is this the haunted house?!"

"No but it might as well be with you living here." Anxiety whispered knowing that Morality and Princey were out of earshot.

Logan tsked. "You're not wrong about that. He does personify things quite a lot."

"I hate it when he does that..." Anxiety scowled in annoyance.

Logan suddenly looked up as if trying to remember something. He grabbed a small stack of notecards on his deck and began to rummage through them until he had found one with the word he wanted.

"Ditto." he stated matter of factly.

"That's an uncommon word you don't hear too often." Anxiety objected.

" Oh. Is it out of...style?" Logan had to think about the last word, but he was satisfied that he did not need to look at the notecard to understand its usage.

"Kinda...it's just not used a whole lot." Anxiety snickered.

"'Kind of'." Logan corrected Anxiety as he turned back to his to do list.

"Whatever you say Mr. Dictionary." Anxiety snirked.

Logan was about to talk back when both of them felt a tug to the real world.

Thomas was summoning them.

I’m horrible at keeping taglists. I’ll find a suitable system sometime, I’m sorry if I forgot you. I haz trouble:

@protecterofalltheaus @anonymous-snake @mewsicalmiss @leesacrakon @here-to-vent @cup-of-blue @pirate-patton @logan-logic @storytellerofuntoldlegends

[tyurshoe]

Bim The Traitor Part III

Here is part 3 of the collab fanfic I’ve been writing with @markiplitessepticeyes

Part 1

Part 2

Warning: Violence

Part III

Wilford was still fuming from his confrontation with Dark. He was pacing in his room. King was sitting in an armchair, spreading peanut butter over his face. Will glanced at him every now and then and rolled his eyes. He didn’t think he had ever seen the man without Peanut Butter smeared all over his chin. It grossed him out, but all the egos had their quirks, he had learned to accept most of them.

Will would never admit it, he preferred that everyone think he had a stone cold heart, but he was hurt that Bim had gone behind his back. Bim had always been loyal before. He was a little too friendly for Will’s liking, but he was loyal. He was also good company, he always let Will know how great he thought Will was. What changed?

Still pacing, Wilford had a thought; where was Bim anyway? King hadn’t revealed to him Bim’s location.He turned his attention back to King, glaring at him. “KING!”

King froze as he heard Wilford’s attitude change, snapping his head toward him forgetting the extra peanut butter on his hands. “Where. Is. BIM?” Wilford questioned.

King still slightly dazed, shook his head before answering the question, “Oh yeah, uh he was over in the forest with that Google fellow!”

“Googleplier?” Wilford asked, mildly surprised. nothing made sense anymore.

“No. Not Googleplier. The yellow one! Goes by Oliver!” King couldn’t wait to see what Will was going to do to Bim.

Wilford scoffed, Google’s little ad-on? He was even more worthless than Bim. He was certainly not a threat to Wilford. “Come along King!” Wilford motioned for King to follow him. “I think we need to pay our friends a visit!”

Oliver was drawing circles on Bim’s back with his fingers. Bim was laying across Oliver’s lap. His tears had dried up from the excessive crying. He had nothing left but puffy eyes and sniffles.

“Bim.” Oliver broke the silence. Bim seemed to ignore him, he was staring off into space. “Bim!” Oliver patted Bim’s back to get his attention. Bim looked up at him, dazed.

“Hmm?”

“We should go Bim, we can’t stay here for forever.” Bim nodded his head and began to sit up.

“Don’t get up on my account!~”

Both men nearly jumped out of their respective skins. Wilford’s voice came out of seemingly nowhere. Bim was the first to turn around and see them. Wilford was standing with his hands on his hips. King was right behind him, smirking like a damn fool.

Startled, Bim and Oliver stood up quickly. They saw Wilford coming toward them. Bim, already scared after seeing King’s smirk, started immediately apologizing to Wilford. “ Wilford- I, I didn’t know….I didn’t mean to…..I’m so sorry, I never meant to ruin your trust in me.” Bim started to tear up again, he tried brushing them away, but it didn’t work.

Wilford put his hand up to stop Bim from saying anything else. “Bim, my boy, come here.” Wilford pointed to the ground in front of him.

Bim gave one quick hesitant glance to Oliver before obeying and moving to the spot Wilford had pointed. He was now standing directly in front of Will. He was close enough to touch the man if he wanted to, he didn’t want to.

Wilford grasped Bim’s shoulders. Bim flinched from the contact but was honestly relieved. Maybe Wilford would forgive him after all.

“Bim. Oh Bim. Bim, Bim, Bim, Bim, BIM.” Wilford grasped Bim’s shoulders tighter. “You’ve been my right hand man for a lot of years now Bim. You’ve been loyal, trusting, and a good… friend.” Will paused. Bim had looked away from him, he was looking at his feet. Will grabbed ahold of Bim’s chin and forced him to look at him. “Isn’t that right Bim?” Bim nodded. Wilford smiled.

Suddenly Wilford’s hand smacked against the side of Bim’s face. Bim raised his hand to his cheek, feeling the heat there. The pain in his face was sharp. He stared at Will wide-eyed. Everything had seemed to be going fine, Will’s change of attitude surprised the heck out of Bim.

“Then why!” Wilford bellowed. “Did you betray me?” Wilford grabbed Bim by the hair and pulled him closer to his side. Will held his knife up to Bim’s face. “It really makes me sad Bim, because now...” He moved the knife closer. “Now, I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

“Stop!” Oliver suddenly remembered how his voice worked. “Leave him alone!”

Wilford eyed the android like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This is probably the first time this particular ego had ever spoken to him. He was Googleplier’s toy, person, thing. He didn’t really even exist as far as Wilford was concerned.

“Are you going to stop me?” Wilford teased. He chuckled as he released Bim and made his way over to Oliver. Oliver was terrified, and he tried to stand his ground, but when Wilford finally made his way over to him he felt his legs turn to jello and he tripped over backwards. Wilford reached for him, Oliver scrambled to his feet and took off running towards the mansion. Wilford laughed heartily, he held his stomach and let out a big belly laugh. “Some hero you got there Bim!~” Wilford turned back towards his original prey. “~Now where were we?”

Scrambling backwards, Bim was breathing heavily as he watched Wilford strolling over to him. “W-W-Wilford, I-I, please s-stop...” Scrambling backwards he felt his hand touch what felt like a shoe, it was King. King grinned down at Bim; he gave him a little wave, “Hello there.”

Distracted, Bim didn’t even see Wilford come up and grab him roughly by the collar forcing him to stand. “That’s better.~” Wilford smirked.

Wilford held Bim by the collar, King held his arms behind his back. Will pressed the blade of his knife against Bim’s neck, Bim began to bleed a little as the blade nicked him.

“I’m going to make sure you don’t ever forget who you belong to.” Wilford moved his hand from Bim’s collar to the back of his neck. “ Do you understand me?” Bim was too afraid to move, even the slightest budge could result in him being cut. “Answer me!” Wilford screamed into his face.

“Yes Wilford! Sir! Please don’t hurt me! I won’t forget! Please!” Bim was nothing but a mess of snot and tears by this point. Wilford liked it that way.

“Oh Bim. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to give you a gentle reminder, something you can look at every time you think you might betray me again.” Wilford chuckled. “I’m going to carve my name into your pretty face.” Wilford raised his knife to Bim’s nose.

“What seems to be going on here?”

Wilford jumped.

Suddenly out of nowhere, Wilford saw Google and Dark strolling up.

“What the bloody hell is going on! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?!” Wilford was fuming in anger, and when he saw that little yellow brat of an android hiding behind Google, he was pissed. “Oh great, what did that thing tell you? Did we all switch roles here? When did the great and powerful “Darkiplier” follow orders from machines?” Wilford was on a roll, throwing so many insults, he almost forgot he was still holding onto the quivering Bim Trimmer. Bim the Traitor. He threw Bim down to the ground  before walking away from him; Bim didn’t even move,  from fear of what Wilford might do to him if he did.

Dark, gaining his composure as Wilford walked over to him, analyzed the situation, deciding how best to handle this. Google, as always, was waiting at attention. Dark was the only person he allowed to command him, and he planned on keeping it this way.

“I think I heard you say you were going to carve your name in to Bim’s face?” Dark had a look on his face like he genuinely didn’t care if Wilford did or didn’t carve his name into Bim’s face. He could carve the entire Mona Lisa into the flamboyant game show host’s face and he could not honestly give less of a damn.

“I did say that! What’s it to you! He’s not one of yours! You’re lucky I didn’t use my knife on that Google knock off hiding back there!” Wilford pointed his knife at Oliver who ducked back behind Google. Google cocked his head at Wilford.

“I don’t appreciate you threatening me Wilford. Google Yellow is a piece of me.”

“Yeah, Yeah I know. Therefore he’s yours! I didn’t hurt the son of a bitch!” Wilford grinned. “He ran away too fast for me to.” Google frowned at Wilford.

“Wilford.”

“What the fuck do you want now?!” Wilford turned from Google to Darkiplier slack jawed.

“As I seem to recall, Bim no longer belongs to you. He is, how did you put it? Conspiring with me?” Dark smirked as Wilford’s grin turned into a scowl. “Therefore, I think that Bim belongs to me now, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m not taking this shit from you Dark! I don’t take shit from anybody!” Wilford spun around, pointing his knife at everyone in his prosciminity. “Traitors don’t get protection. Now please run along so I can get back to doing my work. Ta-Ta!” Wilford turned towards Bim on the ground and began to step towards him.

Dark nodded at Google who grasped Wilford on the shoulder.

“Now, now, Will. I don’t think you realize what kind of an opportunity you're missing out on here” Dark smirked, knowing he got his attention.

“Opportunity?” Wilford relaxed ever so slightly. Dark nodded to Google to let him go.

“You see I realized after seeing and listening to little Yellow over there; that we didn’t get the whole story now did we?” He looked over to Yellow, “Come here.”

End part III