#I know bill was responsible for a lot of it

[specioussussurations]

this take sucks. ive been thinking about it a lot and this take does suck

not because its wrong but because it doesn't address the economic anxieties that STEM propaganda feeds on; how the fuck does an English degree pay your bills?

because, on the surface, these exact responses are what you're taught. That you spend 4 years reading incomprehensible books and multisyllabic words then get spit out to starve in the "real" world (i.e. where STEM skills are "more useful")

But like. Y'all. People. Writing several essays a year for several years is actually super effective training for most corporate work. Fuck, most small businesses would KILL to have employees with that kind of training.

Because to write an essay in college you gotta:

read some shit. it'll be dense. it'll be long. it'll be boring

figure out what the fuck you just read

figure out how to explain that same shit

then figure out who you gotta explain it to

often in less than a day while juggling a hundred other social & financial obligations

you'll never guess what skills "talk to the client about procedure then report back to me" type shit uses. you'll never fucking guess.

humanities degrees do have serious artistic & philosophical value. im gonna be a starving poet. its my shitty, awful destiny. im too belligerent and disabled to live my life any other way.

but they have truly enormous economic value, too. you cannot work 90% of jobs IN ANY FIELD IN ANY POSITION without basic communication skills, and literally every raise, promotion, or job opportunity is 1000% more achievable if you know what & how to say the thing your boss (your AUDIENCE) needs to hear

every single humanities degree teaches deadline, drafting, composition, and critical analysis skills that make you an insanely valuable employee. fuck, man, a degree in 16th century russian maritime history would too. going to a "place of learning" for a "FOUR YEAR degree" happens to learn you a thing or two about a thing about a thing or two. go fucking figure

addendum:

i dont think being in STEM makes you stupid. i think being in STEM because "the humanities are useless" makes you stupid. i like math. im a math head. ive given math oral sex and id do it again.

[soft-pine]

Timeline of Every Anecdote from Dean's Childhood in Supernatural (Full Canon Only)

My other timeline includes stuff from some of the pseudo canonical materials. This one includes only things that happen or are mentioned in the show itself.

winc*sties this is still not for you!

Still super open to feedback and suggestions if I missed something.

Content notes: death, child abuse, alcohol

1983

Dean is 4

John & Mary used to call Dean their “little piglet” because he liked to eat so much. [13.21 (this is technically in a dream of Sam's)]

Mouse Trap is Dean's favorite game. [14.17]

Mary would feed Dean tomato-rice soup when he was sick. [5.13]

Mary would sing "Hey Jude" as a lullaby. [5.13]

Dean really likes Mary's meatloaf. He doesn't know she gets it from Piggly Wiggly. [12.02]

Between May and November John and Mary had a fight and John left home for a few days. [5.16]

November 2 - Mary Winchester dies, Sam is 6 months old. [1.01, 1.21]

Mary's uncle arranges a burial and headstone even though she doesn't have a body. [2.04]

Dean doesn't speak for a while after Mary dies. [1.03]

John Meets Missouri. [1.09]

John leaves a box of pictures in the basement of the house. [1.09]

1984

Dean is 5

1985

Dean is 6

John takes Dean out shooting for the first time, using bottles as target practice. According to Dean, he "bullseyed every one of them." Dean remembers this story as him being “6 or 7." Dean cites this story as one of the fonder memories of his father. [2.06 (date suggested by John's Journal)]

Rufus spent the whole year being nice. It was the worst year of his life. [7.10]

1986

Dean is 7

Dean starts having a crush on Daisy Duke. [11.13]

Bill Harvelle dies. [2.06, 2.14 (year suggested by John's Journal)]

John began the masked vampire case - looking into killings and kidnappings along Route 77. [15.20]

1987

Dean is 8

John takes Dean and Sam on a donkey ride at the Grand Canyon. Dean’s donkey farts a lot which Sam finds very funny. [8.21]

Dean has begun hunting. [11.08]

1988

Dean is 9

John is hunting a Shtriga in Wisconsin when he leaves Sam and Dean alone in a hotel room. Dean gets bored and goes out and comes back to find the Shtriga attacking Sammy but can't steady himself in time to fire at it. John comes back but can only scare the Shtriga off. [1.18]

They know Pastor Jim by this point. [1.18]

Dean and Sam (5) play dress up as Batman and Superman and jump of the roof of a shed. Sam breaks his arm and Dean takes him to the E.R. on the handlebars of his bike. [9.15 (mentioned again in 11.08)]

At some point before now Dean is given his first beer by Fred Jones in Salt Lake City. [8.08. He also apparently gives Sam his first beer too but it's unlikely it was this same time?]

1989

Dean is 10

“When I was 10, I got my first B&E from borrowing some family's pay-per-view so I could watch the cage match between you and the Tower of Power.” [11.15]

Dean: "You couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.... I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...'" [2.22]

Bobby takes Dean to play catch instead of “practice with the double-barrel” as John had instructed Dean. In the flash back Rufus guesses the year is around 1989. “No, we didn't shoot rifles, as a matter of fact. We threw a ball around. He's a kid, John. They both are. They're entitled.... Yeah, I know I ain't their dad.” Bobby hangs up and throws the phone down. [7.10]

1980s General

(i.e. there isn't a specific date mentioned for this but I'm guessing from context that it happened in this decade)

Sam sticks army men into Baby's ashtray. [5.22]

Dean sticks Legos into the vents. [5.22]

Dean eating all of Sam's Halloween candy sometime. [12.11 & 14.04]

John taking them to see World of Wrestling. Sometime before Dean is ten. Dean calls it “one of the nicest things” John ever did. Sam remembers John getting drunk. [11.15] ("The Hangman": "He was Dad's favorite. Anytime that noose would come out, Dad would be on his feet. It was one of the few times I ever saw him actually happy.")

John takes Dean fishing. When Dean tells Jack, Jack feels from his tone that it's his happiest memory of John. [5]

Dean telling Sam a stupid joke to distract him from ripping off bandaids when he was little. [15.01]

The first beer John shared with Dean tasted like "crap". [15.20]

Sam's memory of Thanksgivings: “We had a bucket of extra-crispy and Dad passed out on the couch. [5.16]

Dean: "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." [1.22]

Dean says he believed the TV ads about Sea Monkeys having families [5.06]

Dean mentions a babysitter, Mrs Chancy, who was obsessed with the TV show Dynasty [5.06], which ran until 1989 when Dean was ten. This could be a lie he's just telling a kid to get him to open up about his babysitter though.

"Alright, here we go. John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew. There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad used to make." [8.21]

"You used to read to me, um, when I was little, I— I mean, really little, from that— from that old, uh... Classics Illustrated comic book. You remember that? ... Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face..." [8.21]

“You used to take us hunting. Remember? Dad had a case, he'd just dump us on you. Shoot, you must have taught us most of the outdoor tracking we know.” Bobby: “Yeah, what I could get to stick. I never could get you little grubs to pull a trigger on a single deer.” Dean: “You’re talking about Bambi, man.” Bobby: “You don't shoot Bambi, jackass. You shoot Bambi's mother.” [7.09]

“Not young like I was when he actually taught me how to drive.” [15]

Dean says soft rock always put Sam to sleep. [7.16]

Dean talks about learning 101 different ways to make Mac 'n Cheese for Sam at a motel in Scranton while John was off hunting. "ketchup for spice, hmm? Uh, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix." [10.11]

1990

Dean is 11

January - John is injured on a hunt in Windom, Minnesota, and goes to the hospital, where he meets Kate Milligan. [4.19]

September 29 - Adam Milligan is born. [4.19]

At some point Dean makes a sawed off. He's in sixth grade. [3.03]

Dean tries burgers from a seaside shack in Delaware that become his favorite. [4.22]

1991

Dean is 12

December 25 - Sam and Dean are at a motel in Broken Bow, Nebraska while John hunts. Sam reads John's Journal and finds out that Mary's death was supernatural, monsters are real, and that John hunts them. He confronts Dean, who confirms it. Sam gives Dean an amulet. [3.08]

1992

Dean is 13

John buys a Playboy featuring Anna-Nicole Smith, eventually both boys end up reading it. [7.22]

June - Sam tells John he is afraid of the monster in his closet and John gives him a .45. [1.01]

Sam wants to go hunting with Dean. Dean says John said no. John calls to ask Sam to come. [11.08]

1993

Dean is 14

January – Motel Baba Yaga case. Dean says, “I was babysitting you when I was your age”. Sam says "I'm pretty sure that's illegal." Dean sees the nest, a pile of dead kids and has "nightmares about it for the longest time." [15.16]

1994

Dean is 15

Summer - Sam and Dean spend part of the summer being looked after by Donna, a babysitter (and maid at the Mayflower) in Housatonic, Massachusetts, while John hunts. At one pointJohn is gone for two weeks. It is the summer before Sam enters 6th grade, and he assigns himself a summer reading list. Dean possibly has a crush on Donna. [5.12]

October - They are living In Bismark (North Dakota?). Sam has a crush on Andrea Howell & has a really bad experience at her Halloween party, throwing up. Sam hides in the woods until Dean comes and gets him. [14.04]

Sam still believes in the Easter Bunny until close to here. [10.12]

1995

Dean is 16

Dean's first Werewolf. Sam doesn't to the body burning. "So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old. Most kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates. I'm seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of." [2.03]

Dean spends two months at Sonny's Home for Boys after being caught shoplifting. [9.07]

April 20 - Dean's award for New York Wrestling Champion. [9.07]

November 13 – Sam's soccer team won division championship. John keeps the trophy. [3.03]

Sam later talks about how John was upset with him for wanting to play soccer instead of learning bowhunting. [1.08]

November 24 - Sam has his first traditional Thanksgiving dinner at his crush Stephanie’s house. He has been attending a school called McKinley for two weeks. [5.16]

1996

Dean is 17

July 4 - Dean and Sam set off fireworks in a field and almost burn it down. [5.16]

At some point when Sam was 13 he ran away for two weeks while under Dean's watch in Flagstaff, Arizona, living off pizza in a cabin and befriending a dog he called Bones. Dean scoured the whole town looking for him and worried he might have died, and John was furious when he found out. [5.16]

1997

Dean is 18

When he's 13, Sam briefly wants to be a magician. [4.12]

Summer - The Winchesters hunt a werewolf. [4.13]

November - Sam and Dean attend Truman High in Fairfax, Indiana, for 3 or 4 weeks, while John is on a hunt that was originally supposed to be 2 weeks but ended up taking longer than expected. Dean is in 12th Grade. It is the third school they have attended since September. [4.13]

1998

Dean is 19

Sam is a mathlete. [4.04]

Summer - While John and Dean are off hunting a Kitsune, Sam stays in Lincoln, Nebraska, and does research for them. While there, he meets a girl and has his first kiss - only to discover that John and Dean's hunt has circled back on him. [7.03]

July - Dean goes on a solo "five states in five days" road trip, but ends up spending most of it in Cicero, Indiana, with Lisa Braeden. In the meantime, John & Sam "tie up a hunt" in Orlando, Florida. [3.02]

Dean meets Rhonda Hurley, she makes him try on her pink, satin panties and he likes it. [5.04]

At some point they spend time with Travis, the hunter. [4.04]

1999

Dean is 20

1990s General

Dean trying to cook Winchester Surprise on a hotplate with food (baloney and sliced cheese) that it seems Sam shoplifted in the rain. John gets home and throws it out. [14.11] In Lebanon John tells Sam he remembers this and apologizes to Sam for it. [14.13]

Sam and Dean visited the Cleveland Botanical Gardens on a field trip. [5.16]

Dean going to CBGB "way underage" and John coming to get him. [10.09]

Hunting the chupacabra in Mexico. Sam is an olderish teenager when he says this happened the year before. [11.10]

John making Dean be bait. [14.14 production draft. Corroborated by 1.20. Putting this in 1990s and not 1980s is very generous imo.]

Dean used to live on “Nerve Damage” (“10 times the legal limit of caffeine”) as a kid. [13.08]

Escalating prank wars? [1.17] Sam mentions a time Dean put superglue in his toothpaste [15.06]

Could be 80s too: Dean: “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?” Sam: “You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?” Dean: “Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great.” [3.08]

Sam performing in Our Town. [1.16]

Sam talks about having to make his own dinner as a kid. [5.06]

2000

Dean is 21

2001

Dean is 22

Sam smokes weed maybe. [11.19]

Pre-2002, 2000s General

Sam & Dean driving 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show. [5.22]

Driving two days for a Jayhawks game. [5.22]

John catches Lee and Dean 'wasted' on a hunt. [15.17]

John plays Dean and Lee “Good Ol Boys” before hunts. “Listen up boys this is real music. [15.17]

Sam used to try to get him & Dean to do 'honest work' rather than hustling pool. [5.22]

The Las Vegs annual trip. [7.08]

Sam ran tech for a production of Oklahoma. [10.05]

Post-2002, 2000s General

Dean sleeps with Annie. [7.19]

Dean sees Lee while Sam's in college. [15.17] Possibly the 'cult thing in Arizona' 'what that thing did to that family, those kids.' Because Lee does one more job after that in Texas and retires.

At some point Dean hunts a Vetala and learns they usually hunt in pairs. [7.11]

At some point Dean hunts a succubus with Richie. [3.04]

2002

Dean is 23

John gives Sam the "hunting is life; you can't have connections" speech. [4.19]

March 8 - Sam says he's leaving hunting to go to Stanford University. John says if he leaves to stay gone. [1.01, 1.20]

September - Adam Milligan meets John Winchester. [4.19] (This could be any time from now til 2003 but I think it would be now because John will want to feel he can replace Sam or do something right.)

2003

Dean is 24

Dean dates Cassie Robinson. She breaks up with Dean after Dean tells her about hunting. [1.13] It lasts less than two months. [5.11]

June 21 - Dean is involved in a hunt for the father of Cole Trenton, in Nyack, NY. [10.02]

Poltergeist case in Kittanning, PA. [1.04]

John gets taken from this year into the future in "Lebanon." He is sleeping in the Impala and Dean calls him and he tells him he'll be back soon. [14.13]

2004

Dean is 25

September 29 - John takes Adam to a ballgame for his 14th birthday. [4.19]

2005

Dean is 26, dude.

Summer - John teaches Adam to drive using the Impala (this is after John gave Dean the car for his 18th). [4.19]

September 29 - John buys Adam a beer when he's 15. [4.19]

John cuts off contact with Dean. [1.01]

End of October – Dean comes to get Sam. [1.01]

Dean: "I must have stood outside your dorm for hours... because I didn't... I didn't know what... What you would say. I thought you'd tell me to... to get lost or get dead. And I don't know what I would've done... if I didn't have you. 'Cause I was so scared." [15.20]

General Comments

(i.e. just quotes and things that are too general to place at a specific time. i've sorted them roughly into themes but all of these themes are also present in incidents above.)

Dean says he's been wanting John and Mary back together since he was four. [14.13]

John's absence

Sam: "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine." [1.01]

Dean mentions how John would dump him and Sam at Bobby's. [7.09]

Toni Bevell saying about John's drunken rages and weeks of abandonment. Also pointing out that Dean & Sam didn't tell Mary about it. [12.21]

Sam says John would be gone for weeks at a time and "he wasn't exactly a monk." [4.19]

Sam says John "was not around much." [11.05]

Sam talks about worrying when John & Dean would be out on a hunt and he wouldn't hear from them for days. He thought about what he would do. [11.18]

John's drinking

In the pilot Sam comments that John is likely missing because he's drinking. [1.01]

Sam comments that a dad bringing their kid to a wrestling match to distract them while he drinks seems familiar. [11.15]

See also the above [12.21]

Young Sam says John has a temper and you don't want to see him when he's drinking [7.03]

John's parental control

Sam talks about how John was angry with him for not wanting to learn to bowhunt or hustle pool and instead wanting to go to school and live his life. [1.08]

Dream!Dean: "You can still hear your Dad's voice in your head, can't you? Clear as a bell. I mean, think about it …all he ever did is train you, boss you around. But Sam …. Sam he doted on. Sam, he loved. Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?" [3.10]

Dean: "My father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family." [3.10]

Dean: “And I get what I've been doing lately, you know, what with the yelling and the acting like a prison guard. It's just, that's not me. You tell yourself you're not gonna be something, you know? But my dad was exactly like this. All the time. It's scaring the hell out of me.” [6.02]

Martin alludes to the fact that John would disapprove of Dean's connection to Benny and Sam's patience with it and "he'd have a mind to take you both out behind the woodshed and show you what's what." [8.09]

Tara also mentions that John would not approve of Dean working with Crowley [9.11]

Sam: “his drill sergeant thing worked with you but it didn't work with me.” [13.04]

“You know kids, no matter what they still want the old man's approval” about an abusive dad. Dean agrees to it. [13.02]

Dean: “I know things got dicey… you know, with dad… the way he was. And I just… I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should’ve. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes when I was… when I was away, you know it wasn’t ‘cause I just ran out, right? Dad would… he would send me away when I really pissed him off. I think you knew that.” [14.12]

Difficult childhoods

Talking about Charlie as a teenager, Dean says, "Dude. If a shrink interviewed us at that age, you think the report would be all kittens and rainbows?" [10.11]

Cas says, "You were both troubled teens." [10.19]

Dean says he & Sam could have benefited from a mother's dating advice. [11.12]

Sam: "And when we were kids how many times did we tell dad we were fine just to make him happy?!" [14.16]

Dean drinks to “crappy childhoods”. [10.12]

Sam: "I had a kind of lonely childhood." [11.08]

Sam: "I had a messed up childhood." [14.04]

Dean's parentified role

Sam: “I wish I could have that kinda innocence.” Dean: “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.” [1.18]

John: “You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say 'It's okay, Dad'... You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once.” [2.01]

Dean: "And I… I had to be… more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe. And that wasn't fair. And I couldn't do it." [12.21]

See also 1989 above [2.22]

Food scarcity

Sam says explicitly that they had to hustle pool to eat. [15.11] Additionally, Sam says John made them learn to hustle pool. [1.08]

Travis: "you ever been really hungry? I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?" Dean: a 'yeah' so emphatic his voice cracks. Sam: silence. [4.04]

The future

Sam: “Dad always said it was temporary, Dean. He said it for 22 years.” [6.02]

Dean's allusions to liking dancing/wanting to be a dancer. [7.16, 15.20]

Dean: “Jo, you've got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young... I wish I could do something else... Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you. Who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don't throw things like that away. Might be hard to find later.” [2.06]

Dean: "You know, ever since you were a kid, you wanted to live in a town like this. Lame, normal…" [15.04]

Dean gets his GED [5.01]

See also 1980's general [1.22]

John spends Dean and Sam's college funds on ammo [1.20]

Hunting

John saying hunter gatherings were trouble and in general keeping Sam & Dean away from them. [2.03, 12.06]

Dean says he and John weren't using disguises for hunting. [1.09]

Sam saying it seemed to him Dean & John bonded over hunting. [12.20]

Dean learned to use CB radios to look for leads from truckers. John used them all the time. [13.11]

“I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke—protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. The more I think about it...the more I wish Dad had lied to us.” [5.06]

Gordon Walker meets John "Hell of a guy. Great hunter." [2.03]

John maintains connections with Caleb, Jefferson, and Pastor Jim. Caleb sometimes supplies him with munitions [1.11]

John hunts with and then has a falling out with Daniel Elkins [1.20]

John hunts with and hooks up with Tara but never calls her back. [9.11]

At some point, John and Bobby have a falling out and Bobby threatens to shoot John if he ever sees him again [1.21]

TV

“Growing up on the road, no matter where Dad dragged us, no matter what we did, there was always a TV. And you know what was on that TV? Scooby and the gang.” [13.16]

Dean: “Ah well, growing up it was a… it was always nice to check out once in a while. I like to watch movies where I know the bad guy is going to lose.” [14.04]

The Hustler was John's favorite movie [15.11]

(for the record, I didn't sort and collate every comment about john or their childhoods here. i mostly tried to pick one which were a little bit more detailed rather than just general attitudes. but if you want to see all comments made about john throughout the show, click here)

[ckret2]

All of Bill's stock history and tastes that you mentioned are things he did after Euclydia, but nothing suggests that he had those tastes in Euclydia or there is something that made him a weirdo in Euclydia besides his mutation or his eye fetish.

ok let's break this down.

Nothing suggests he didn't have those tastes in Euclydia. There's no compelling evidence to suggest he was normal for a Euclidean. Take out his mutation and we don't know anything about what he was like in Euclydia except:

he had squeaky shoes (normalcy unknown—although, in humans, squeaky shoes are often used to help children with physical & neurological development issues learn to walk)

he wanted the crusts cut off his sandwiches (normalcy unknown; but the fact he had to remind his mom suggests it wasn't normal)

he could be manipulated into drinking his medicine with curly straws (normalcy unknown; the fact that he's specified as a "picky eater" suggests it's abnormal)

his birth was allegedly celebrated with a best baby award, holiday, and free knives (normalcy unknown, possibly a lie)

he didn't learn to tie his shoes until age 16 and called shoelaces fascist (the fact that his parent(s) apparently recounted this as an amusing anecdote later suggests it's abnormal)

it's heavily implied he murdered his optometrist, and possibly his family at around the same time (i'm just gonna take a leap of faith and assume this is abnormal for Euclideans)

So his normalcy score is "unknown but dubious; might be abnormal; might be abnormal; unknown/untrue; abnormal; abnormal." And that's everything we know.

At any rate, if we want to know what he was like as a Euclidean, it seems a lot less sensible to go "well we know next to zero facts about his childhood, so that must mean he was normal" than to look at what we do know about his personality and assume that... y'know... it came from somewhere. We have no reason to take it as a given that he only developed those personality traits post-massacre.

Plus, saying "he was normal except for his mutation" is sort of like saying "he was an introvert except for what a big fat party-loving attention-hungry extrovert he is." It's like saying "Ford was normal except for his mutation"—okay except Ford isn't normal, his entire life is shaped by being abnormal, everything he's ever done is a response to the tension between pursuing kindred abnormality versus seeking validation from normies, and all that is caused by his mutation. What person are you talking about if you're talking about who Ford is without his mutation? There's no Ford left.

Similarly you can't just excise the trait that made Bill who he is and act like you're still talking about the same character. Like yeah sure I guess he probably would be a lot more normal once you remove the trait that alienated him from everyone else he knew, led to him enduring medical trauma from toddlerhood, and caused his grade school classmates to chant "Cipher, Cipher, he's insane, starting fires with his brain." "Bill's a normal Euclidean once you remove his personality." Sure, that technically isn't a false statement.

"or his eye fetish"—okay, so we're talking about my version of Bill, not canon Bill Cipher? In that case:

he dropped out of school by equivalent-to-age-14 to run a cult (weird)

he claimed the third dimension was real and people who didn't believe in the 3rd D thought he was crazy (this part is kinda normal, and caused by his mutation)...

... and claimed that it was where heaven is, and people who did believe in the 3rd D thought he was crazy (this part is weird and NOT caused by his mutation)

by middle school he was telling his bullies that their moms fucked the family dog (weird) (also, when I rewrite that scene, in honor of the precedent set by TBOB, I'm probably going to change that to Bill telling his bullies he fucked their moms)

he handled all his homework by not doing it, all his tests by cheating on them, and getting caught at cheating by crying to his mom about how his teacher was prejudiced against him so that she'd get mad at the school before the school could tell her he'd been cheating & she'd get mad at him (weird)

he resolved an argument with his mom by murdering her at like 15 and then went right on leading his cult (incredibly weird)

he publicly went on a screaming tantrum that made national news against respectable scientists because he'd told a bunch of lies he KNEW were false and they went "you'd have to be dumb to believe this stuff" (weird & a terrible idea)

he publicly issued a million dollar bet against the entire scientific community as a teenager when he knew full well he didn't have a million dollars (weird & an even worse idea)

he ravenously devoured so much cosmic horror literature that when he met an actual cosmic horror and it acted normal he had a full mental breakdown over it not being horrifying enough (incredibly weird)

by the time of the massacre, he had developed into the kind of person who would respond to the extinction of his entire dimension by pretending he meant to do that, kidnapping a bunch of neighboring people, throwing a nonconsensual zombie party, and declaring himself god-king (unfathomably weird)

These are just the things that have already happened in the fic. I could cheat and tell you all the things that made him a weirdo that haven't come up yet, but I won't.

So sure, some of the things that currently make him look weird to humans are normal for Euclideans; but no, he wasn't normal for a Euclidean.

And on top of all that, he figured out he had an eyeball fetish after he left Euclydia ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ because he hadn't done any romantic/sexual experimentation by the time of the massacre (slightly abnormal) because—he would subsequently discover—the only thing that gets him going is grotesque higher-dimensional non-euclidean aliens (very abnormal).

[keen-eye]

McGucket: i’ve abandoned my own professional aspirations and have been neglecting my wife and our young son to be with help you make yours come true, i’m utilizing my mechanical genius just for you, here’s a gourd and an axolotl that remind me of you, here’s a snow globe of our lab, here’s six-fingered gloves I knitted for you, i’ve stayed by your side despite being repeatedly traumatized by these terrifying monsters, i’ve put my mental and physical health in jeopardy for our project, i’ve built a memory erasing device so that I can fix my anxiety and continue helping you, *erases your memory* forget I said that, here’s a thesis paper I’ve written for you so you can publish your research and end this dangerous and isolating endeavor, i've sacrificed so much, did I mention I left my wife to be with you

Ford: *keeps truth about project a secret*, *throws gourd away*, *puts you in harms way*, *dismisses your fears*, *frustrated by your lack of commitment*, *takes you for granted*, *breaks snow globe*, *suspicious of your intentions*, *questions your loyalty*, *releases axolotl*, *prioritizes and trusts a triangle over you*, *accuses you of betrayal*, *calls you weak-willed*

(^ imagine the vine boom after each one)

[inkblackorchid]

Ah. Great. A family emergency. It's not like I already had several dozen other things to worry about. And exactly a week before my birthday, to boot!

[skeletons-in-ur-closet]

its just not fair that my mom has to be completely dependent on me 100% when im barely 20 years old

[theartinmyheart]

.

[ckerouac]

So, I really love the selection of Tim Walz for VP and it’s taken me a moment to articulate why. I mean, obviously, Dem bonafides, he’s sharp, he’s funny, etc etc. But everyone in the Veepstakes fits that bill, Harris was spoiled for good choices.

But Walz offers something that the other men in contention don’t that I think will be incredibly useful in combating Trumpism.

He offers an example and an off ramp to the section of men who felt like they were Republicans by default, and so support Trump by default. There are a lot of Trump voters who are full on obsessive, but that’s not who we’re talking to. We’re talking to folks who grew up in Republican areas, or felt their hobbies didn’t line up with who a Democrat was, or didn’t feel represented by their image of a Democrat. You want to see it so you can be it, you know? Which is why Harris is so inspirational to a lot of segments of folks, but Walz is too.

He served in the military. He went to a state college. He’s your favorite teacher from your public high school. He’s your football coach who actually cared if you were passing your math class. He’s the guy you looked up to at school when your family sucked but this guy cared, and he helped you get out and make something of yourself.

He’s the neighbor who helps you jump your car. He’s your uncle who takes you hunting. He’s your Dad who loves teasing you at the Stare Fair. He’s you when he makes a mistake like his DUI and takes responsibility for it, and when he has the chance makes sure other can come back from similar mistakes. He’s you when you and your wife want so badly to be parents and IVF gives you the family you wanted. He’s you when he says ‘it had to be me’ and used his standing and power to protect vulnerable kids sponsoring the GSA at his school.

He gives the real life example to these men that they can be that football, fishing, hunting family man who wants to provide for his family, be that powerful, respected member of the community and use that power to feed kids in school. That it’s normal to enthusiastically work for a boss like Harris. That yeah those other guys are fucking weirdos, and you’re not a weirdo, are you?

That there’s a place in the Democratic Party for them. That they don’t have to default to being fucking weird.

I hope those guys see this example of masculinity and go… yeah, that’s me. That’s who I’m gonna be.

[sanchoyo]

annoyed I’m not getting as many hours as I’d like at work bc when I started they were giving me mad overtime 😔 ik it’s probably the holidays but at this rate it’s gonna take me (materialistic) forever to get the things I want and actually need ☹️ tentatively once again considering if I’d have enough self discipline to do something like a patreon before remembering I hate putting stuff behind paywalls 😭

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・brothel owner geto ⸜⸜・

brothel owner geto says he doesn't have a favorite worker... until it comes from you. his whole face lights uo when you come running to sit on his lap. he opens his arms so you can jump into them, showing geto how much money you made. as much as he wants to listen to you rant about different costumers, he's more interested in that bra you are wearing. his hands cup your breasts and he squeezes them together, few bills falling from your bra.

"is that a new set?" he asks with his hands still groping your tits. you don't mind, you love when mr. geto touches you.

"mhm," you nod your head, throwing your arms around his neck, "i picked it because it's your favorite color." suguru almost melts when you say that.

he takes your hand, leading down back to the apartments where you take care of the clients. when the door closes, he has his mouth on yours. he kisses you hungrily, opening the bra to let your boobs free. he puts pressure on your shoulders, telling you to kneel in front of him. you smirk, knowing exactly what he wants to do. you pull his pants down, his cock hitting you in the face. it's your favorite cock.

"how much do they pay you for blowjob, 30$?" he asks you and you not. he sends you a sweet smile, "i have to raise your prices."

he thrusts his cock in your mouth, making you choke a bit. after all, he's the biggest cock you take at this job. you lick at his base, loving how heavy he feels in your mouth. geto sets his own pace, thrusting in and out of your mouth just like he likes it.

all those dirty man always wait for you to do something but geto is confident and he knows what he wants. that's what you love about him.

your hand cups his balls, stroking it while he uses your mouth like a toy. you close your eyes, something about him just using you is so calming to you.

geto thought about it a lot and maybe it's town to do what he wanted to do for a long time.

"open your mouth." he tells you, tapping his cock on your tongue before he shoots his cum deep inside, some of it landing on your face.

that's it, he decided what he wants to do with you.

"baby, do you want to only work for me?" his question confuses you a little, you're working for him right now.

"but i am working for you." he chuckles at your response.

"i mean only for me. i would be the only one fucking you."

you furrow your eyebrows. does he mean that he wants you to be his personal escort?

"but im gonna miss the sex." you whine. he smiles at you, "don't worry, baby. we're gonna have a lot of sex. maybe i'll even get you pregnant. you're gonna understand once you're with me."

[lovebugism]

for your smut request ☺️ eddie seeing the love marks he left on reader and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place 🫶🏻

thank u for requesting :D — the one where eddie realizes quitting smoking would be a whole lot easier than quitting you (established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 0.9k)

You lie in the center of Eddie’s bed, trying hard to catch your breath, while the boy rolls off the squeaking mattress on tingling limbs. 

You hear him chuck the used condom into the bin by the nightstand as he goes. He tugs plaid boxers up lanky legs, then fishes for the pack of cigs left in his discarded jeans in one fell swoop. His movements are so practiced now they seem almost fluid. Or maybe that’s just the honeyed haze leftover in your heavy eyes.

Eddie opens the window with one hand, then brings the other up to his mouth. He plucks a cigarette from the carton with his lips and leaves the rest on the sill. A midnight breeze billows past his flushed cheeks and wild curls before finding you. It feels like silk against your buzzing, bare skin.

He cups a hand over his mouth to light the stick. The amber flame makes his face glow. Suddenly, everything smells of sex, nicotine, and midnight air.

You writhe under the thin sheets to stretch your aching limbs before mustering a small smile at the boy across the room. “Smoking after sex is so cliche,” you joke in contented slurs.

“Well, it’s your fault,” the boy insists as grey smoke billows from his rosy mouth. He flicks the filter end of the cigarette to dispel the ash in the ceramic tray, then stretches his arms over his head. It leaves his milky white torso on display for you. Your mouth waters with the urge to run your lips over each of his fading tattoos.

“Is it?” you hum.

“Mhmm,” Eddie nods wordlessly. He sticks the cig back in his mouth and mumbles through it. “If you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t be smokin’ so much.”

A beam tugs at your lips, threatening to fill the lamplit bedroom with sunshine. You cage it between your teeth because both of you know Eddie was the so-called needy one no more than ten minutes ago –– panting in your ear as he fucked sloppily into you, and leaving his pathetic little whimpers there, too.

“Please cum,” he begged against your skin as his thrusts lost rhythm, weighed down by his own need for release. “Please cum for me. I need to feel it. Need to feel it so bad, baby. Please.”

You watch the memory replay itself in Eddie’s faraway gaze. The notion makes your chest go warm. “Well, you have my deepest sympathies, Eddie Spaghetti,” you murmur in response, soft and sarcastic.

Eddie lifts a pale shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s okay,” he mumbles back, cigarette bobbing on his bottom lip. “I can just bill you for all the packs I’m goin’ through.”

“Or we can just stop having sex?” you offer with a knowing lilt to your voice, rising to sit further up on the pillows. You clutch the sheets to your bare chest and look at the boy beneath your lashes. “That’s free, at least.”

Eddie nods, eyes squinted in feigned curiosity. “Hm... That’s definitely an interesting proposition,” he hums with his head angled towards the window to blow smoke out of.

“I mean, I have plenty of toys to keep me occupied––”

“And by toy, I assume you’re talking about Steve The Hair Harrington?” Eddie tries to joke, though his poorly concealed jealousy goes unentertained.

“––But I think you’ll get tired of your right hand very quickly.”

“Hey,” Eddie pouts. “You know I’m ambidextrous. I can switch it up.”

“So, it’s settled then?” you shrug. “No more sex.”

Eddie bows his head sheepishly, silently calculating a way to get him out of the hole he dug for himself. He snuffs the cigarette out in the ashtra, and his eyes flit to the opened box of condoms on his dresser, all but calling his name.

“Well… I mean… We still have eleven condoms left, so…”

You meet his brown-eyed look of expectancy with a cynical smirk. “You see eleven condoms, I see eleven minutes of my life I’m never getting back,” you quip.

Eddie stalks towards you on long legs, brows furrowed in a pitiful look. “Stop being mean to me. I’ll fall in love with you––” he whines playfully, leaning over the mattress with the intent to kiss you. His eyes fall to the blossoming bruises on your neck, and he stops short. “Jesus…”

“What?” you murmur in a mousy voice, eyes wide and glittering.

“Nothin’,” Eddie blurts as he raises his hand to run his fingers over your warm skin. He traces the blooming blood vessels over your collarbone, and his face screws with worry. “Do these hurt?” he wonders aloud.

“Do these?” you echo, motioning to the scratches on his shoulders he hasn’t bothered to notice until now. You didn’t even know you were leaving them there, in truth, as you held onto the boy for dear life while he fucked you within an inch of your own.

Eddie tucks his chin to his chest and tries to eye the scrapes from his peripheral vision. He spots four lines of raging red and puffed-up skin. They feel almost like battle scars –– an aching that he’s proud of.

“A little,” he shrugs, then smiles proudly to himself. “They feel good, though.”

“So do these,” you hum.

His heavy eyes fall to your neck again. His mouth waters at the sight of the lovebites littered there. “Want some more?” he offers lowly.

“I thought we had a deal, Eds? No more sex,” you tease as the boy leans further into kiss you. You smell nicotine and sex on his breath, and your head starts to swim.

“We never shook on it,” Eddie insists, right before kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[tabata188]

I find it really interesting how Bill reiterates that he saw Ford as "a human pet" and a tool for him to use in his plans, but in the end the closest he has ever come to telling the truth to SOMEONE about what happened in Euclydia is to him of all people.

In the Book of Bill in the part about his past where all the redacted stuff is (where it is pretty much confirmed that he in fact, killed or is responsible for everyone dying) Bill himself tells the reader:

"The important thing is, I freed myself from my suffocating world, and freed everyone else too, and everyone loved me for it, and everyone was fine! And that's all there is to say about that! "

And well, it clearly is a lie to us, the readers, who just saw the previous paragraph full of people apparently screaming, seeing lots of blood, and being "the last one breathing". Bill also adds how every time he tries to talk about that day he starts hearing a loud buzzing as well as black outs for half a minute which is a super normal response when you are just freeing people and stuff(/j) . Things is tho, this version where everyone " was freed" Seems to be the official version, the one that Bill tells everyone. This is seen in the new webpage where by putting "tantrum" you see a scene where Time Baby straight up calls Bill out on killing everyone and Bill's henchmen are surprised by it as they were told by him that "he liberated the people of his dimension".

Even when he first met Ford, he says "I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it", which implies that he was ready to feed him that version initially. But THEN later on you get the Scene™. It's not until after some time has passed between them when Bill tells him about how his entire home dimension was destroyed... By a monster, all while looking uncharacteristically distant. And sure one could argue that it was a play on Ford's emotions, to try to win him over and manipulate him further but it's too touchy of a subject for even his henchmen to know. The same interview on the webpage where he talks about manipulating Ford, preying on his insecurities and him being a human pet, ends with the interviewer asking "Let's talk about your parents" And Bill automatically shutting it down altogether. When he gets drunk after him and Ford part ways he calls for "a Sixer" And in the same scene starts calling out to his mom.

In the end the closest he has ever come to owning up to it to anyone that isn't himself (and even then, seems like he's forced to by the voices that keep weighting on his conscience as seen in the webpage) is to Ford. And he won absolutely nothing from it.

As another fun detail, in the webpage if you type "Lies" You get a whole page of Bill talking about lying and it ends with a graphic that says "Lie until you aren't lying anymore".

And what's the input used to get the interview where Bill talks about Ford and calls him a human pet and a tool?

"Evenhisliesarelies".

[callmecoke]

sugar baby headcanons!

CW: Mention of sex work, This is sfw generally but still deals with adult topics so proceed with caution.

Tf141 x reader

What you’ve realised about your favourite mystery account is that A) it's run by multiple people, and B) At least one of them is called Price.

You can’t exactly pinpoint who the rest are or how many, but you’ve managed to identify a few common themes when interacting with the account.

First, you know who Price is, and you can almost always tell it's him when he’s interacting with you. He’s the one you go to first regarding bills and fees you physically can’t pay. Within seconds, he transfers you the money and never lets you thank him for any of it. He also does his weekly check-ins to make sure everything is good. “Have you eaten?” “How’d you sleep?” “Did you take your meds last night?” That kind of thing. He’s also the one who calls you ‘Dolly’, a nickname he reserved for you. 

But you're also pretty sure this other guy (Simon) lurks in the chat when you’re streaming. He won’t ask questions; he just sends you random tips throughout the stream while he watches silently. He’s not as talkative as Price or the others, and that’s kind of how you know it's him. But you’ve realised that just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk. It’s quite the opposite. He enjoys hearing you talk about your life and day and silently rewards you. When you DM him, you even get a little conversation. Nothing more than money and a “Nice”, but still conversation nonetheless.

You know one other fellow spends most of his time in the livestreams and not in your DMs (Gaz). He’s the one who engages with you in conversation the most, asking endless questions about your life. And he always comes back on the next live stream, remembering everything you said in the last. He’ll want the update on that project you were working on for school or if that job interview went as well as you both had hoped. If you weren’t Live to complete strangers, you’d probably open up to him about stuff you’ve never told anyone.

Now…One more person shows up now and again, mainly in your DMs. Part of the service for the website is that people can pay you to take a selfie and give it to them. They can be dirty or completely innocent; it all depends on what you’re advertising. There’s this one person who rather frequently asks for pictures of you, especially those with you smiling. You know it’s a different guy from the others you’ve spotted because he’s the only one who's outright flirtatious with you. Initially, you were wary. A man spending a lot of money on pictures of your face and upper body just screams trouble. But you grew to trust the account, so when you sent them the image, you were surprised by how quickly he showered you with praise.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ll give a strong man a heart attack walking around that gorgous.”

“Makes me wonder how cute you look in person.” “I’m surprised no ones come along and snatched you up all ready. Can’t complain though. Means I get more of you to myself.”

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a slight blush on your cheeks after reading his responses.

[ckret2]

The second dimension has burned up, almost(?) everyone is dead, the ones that aren't dead wish they were, and this funny little yellow triangle the Axolotl met one time is some kind of god ghost party host tyrant.

Wanna make it even worse?? I know you do. Let's make it so much worse.

Here, have a fic. Last week's Part 1 is about Bill doing some kind of cosmic horror shit to the Axolotl; part 2 here is about the Axolotl trying to process the most horrifying thing he's ever seen while a bunch of the most annoying gods you've ever seen argue about building inspections and vandalism.

####

When the Axolotl tumbled out of the bloated pocket of reality where Dimension Zero's singularity was supposed to be, for a moment he thought he'd gotten turned around and flown straight back in, because here again was the yellow triangle's nightmarish party: the geometric rainbow of corpses and undead puppeted into dancing for their "magister," the flashing strobe lights, the hissing whispery white noise like the echoes of a Big Bang had gained sentience and started passing secrets to each other, the cacophonous music that seemed to be every song playing at once.

He had to shake his head to clear it and make sense of what he was seeing. No corpses, no dancing: all he was seeing was all the gods who'd gathered together outside the incinerated two dimensional wall to help deal with the criss, at least triple what there had been before he'd entered what-wasn't-Dimension-Zero. The flashing lights were the cameras and broadcasting equipment of reporters, cordoned off from the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force's main center of operations but still crowding as close as possible to see what the firefighters and ATTF were doing. The whispers were the buzz of activity among the emergency response workers.

And the music was only playing in his own head.

A few gods glanced at him as he emerged from the immense roiling miasma that had replaced Dimension Zero, but they had their own business to deal with and he wasn't part of it, so he was quickly ignored. He wouldn't know what to say if anyone had spoken to him. It was hard to think of anything but the dancing.

He should tell someone what he'd seen. Numbly, he looked around for the storm cloud with the ATTF he'd spoken to earlier, but couldn't pick it out from the crowd.

There was one "face" in the crowd he distantly recognized: a harried-looking vending machine filled with planets and moons—VENDOR, the Axolotl was pretty sure. Some politician. THEY were irritably shifting THEIR worlds back and forth on THEIR spiral racks as THEY spoke to one of the ATTF's many apocalypse cops; THEY'd already vended five planets that the apoc cop had cradled in their tentacles. As the Axolotl swam past the duo in search of the cloud, he heard VENDOR snapping, "—I'll have you know elections are coming up again. The last thing I need is Municipalitron suggesting this lackluster response to a gaping hole into Dimension Zero is MY fault! By the time those rubbernecking reporters make it around your flimsy barrier, I want to be able to report you've cleaned up this mess—" Was the incinerated Dimension 2 Delta even in THEIR district?

He saw THEM on the news from time to time at cosmic crises like this, providing temporary planets for refugees until they could be moved to other worlds (or, in dire enough circumstances—other dimensions); that must be what THEY were here for now. It tended to get THEM a lot of good press. The Axolotl didn't know how much of it was deserved.

To the Axolotl's further distaste, there were also cops here now—not the apoc cops, they were fine, but cop-cops: he saw one crablike being with red and blue mushrooms growing out from where his eyes used to be, and two interlocked fiery rings with a hundred distrustful eyes. They were talking to the hapless furred serpent the Axolotl had seen before he'd gone in to investigate Dimension Zero, the one who'd called in the emergency. She didn't look at all comfortable with whatever they were asking. Why the hell did a spontaneously combusting universe call for the police? Who did they think they were going to arrest? Who did they think they could blame for the fire? The fire itself?

Unless they thought it was arson?

There was the storm cloud: it was talking to another apoc cop, a floating flock of sheep with an ATTF badge pinned in their rain-soaked wool. The Axolotl headed their direction—but paused at the sight of the triangle's sun.

Before Dimension 2 Delta had burned, the little triangle's two-dimensional home planet had been illuminated by a sun shining down on it from the third dimension—a sun no one but the triangle could see. With 2Δ gone, the third dimension was slowly falling into Dimension Zero's nauseating threshold; and in the time the Axolotl had been talking to the triangle, his sun had fallen halfway toward the threshold.

He carefully picked it up and nudged it a safe distance back, then shook the sting of heat out of his paws. 

Someone said, "Hold on, you're the one who defaced the Department of Multiversal Vehicles' office!"

The Axolotl turned to look. VENDOR had apparently ganged up with the cops against the serpent. He groaned under his breath.

Looking between the trio with panic in her eyes and clutching her spray paint can anxiously to her underbelly, the serpent was saying, "Okay, okay, maybe I was out here to do a little graffiti—"

The Axolotl winced and muttered, "Oh, don't voluntarily confess anything." The cloud could wait. He hurried in their direction.

"—but I hadn't actually started anything when the dimension caught on fire! I mean—all right maybe I'd done a couple of tags, but only in vacuum, nowhere near any stars! And the fire started way off from where I was—"

"That sounds likely," VENDOR said.

"You've already got a rap sheet for vandalism," the crablike cop said. "Decided to try out arson—?"

The tentacled apoc cop who'd been speaking to VENDOR earlier cut into the conversation. "Lay off, we've already checked her out. The combustible material in a can of spray paint would only take out a solar system at most. Do you have any idea, any idea, just how much power it takes to burn a whole dimension?"

The dual fiery rings wheeled aggressively in front of the apoc cop. "You let us do our job, calamari. Just focus on doing your own."

"Don't mind if I do," the Axolotl said. He put himself between the accused criminal and the gods of punishment, gills flared and curled forward. "I believe this serpent was a witness to the fire. Is she under arrest?" (He could feel some of the mental numbness wearing off, the horror loosen its grip on his heart as he focused on doing his job.)

VENDOR took one look at him and scoffed. "Oh, you. I know who you are," THEY said. "I suppose this is one of your pro bono clients." All one hundred and two of the cops' eyes immediately snapped to the Axolotl.

Why did everyone think that today? "No," the Axolotl said exasperatedly, "she's not. But I do know her rights. Including her right not to answer any of your questions." (The serpent's jaw snapped shut.) "Do you?"

The cops both bristled. VENDOR drew THEMSELF up to THEIR full height (which was the same height THEY'd already been, a metal brick being rather inflexible like that) and prepared to retort—but THEIR internal camera caught on something just to the Axolotl's side. "Oh, no. Not her."

The Axolotl turned. Hovering in the void behind them, so small and translucent she'd be unnoticeable if not for the faint pinkish glow she gave off, was an astrally-projected mortal soul: a four-armed salamander-like woman with a robe and a string of beads wrapped around one wrist. She opened her eyes, blinking up at the Axolotl.

"Oracle," the Axolotl said, half greeting, half a surprised query. The Oracle bowed her head to him.

To the mortals she served, the Oracle was a priestess who received messages from a god: prophecies to help her people understand the divine and navigate the future. To the beings powerful enough to get called gods, the Oracle was essentially one in a long line of intern news bloggers that the Axolotl occasionally had coffee with to discuss local politics and court cases. His Oracles were almost always low-level mortal criminals who had gotten themselves involved in enough trouble to attract gods' attention, but whom he'd taken under his fin to help get out of that life before they graduated to crimes against reality. The Axolotl thought it was important to offer mortals help before they crossed a line they could never uncross, and important to keep an open conduit of information between higher and lower planes. He thought the people who had the power to shape reality owed transparency to the people living in the realities they shaped.

Not everyone agreed. 

"You smuggled your reporter past the barricade," VENDOR said accusatorially. (The cops visibly flinched at the word "reporter," the crablike one nervously clacking his claws and the ringed one's many eyes widening.)

"No, I had no idea she was coming." Which was unusual. Usually, the Axolotl visited the Oracle in her sleep to catch her up on his day's work and how it might affect mortal affairs; it wasn't often the Oracle sought him out first.

"Well, I'm not making a statement." VENDOR abruptly turned THEIR back to the Axolotl and his Oracle. "If anyone asks, no comment. I'm not commenting on the current incident." The cops also took the opportunity to quietly slink off. The Axolotl watched them go, making sure they didn't find someone new to bully as they left.

The Oracle shot VENDOR and the cops a puzzled look. The Axolotl said, "Don't worry about THEM. Why are you here?"

"Our seers have had premonitions. Could you enlighten us on their meaning?" the Oracle asked.

"Of course. What did they see?"

"They've received visions of an explosion in the... sky..." She trailed off, staring in wonder at the gap into Dimension Zero behind the incinerated wall. "Is... that the explosion?"

Before the Axolotl could answer, the storm cloud he'd been looking for swept past to loom over her. She flinched as her view of her god was suddenly blocked by a torrential thunderstorm, and flinched again as a sunbeam pierced the clouds to shine directly upon her and a serious voice boomed down from the tempestuous heavens: "Your people witnessed it?"

"There you are," the Axolotl said. "I was looking for you—"

The cloud pointed at him with a finger of lightning. "I'll get your statement second. Mortal's first. They don't last as long." (The Axolotl didn't think the Oracle was going to die of old age in the time it would take him to explain what he'd seen in Dimension Zero, but he didn't argue.) It said to the tentacled god, "Get those planets out to the flat worlders. The flock's already out there."

"On it." They tightened their tentacles around the worlds VENDOR had already passed over, and quickly scuttled off toward the line of blue light on the interdimensional horizon.

The storm asked the Oracle, "Can you describe what happened?"

"Uh..." She looked around nervously, trying to find the source of the voice, not realizing it came from the storm itself. "That's... what I came here to find out."

The Axolotl slipped his tail over her as an umbrella. (He needed the water, anyway; he'd been too close to too many fires today.) "Just tell it what your seers saw, like you were telling me. You may be able to help us."

"Help how?"

"None of us directly witnessed the 'explosion' your seers did."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "How do the gods not witness something?"

The Axolotl hesitated. "Even gods' eyes aren't all-seeing." He decided he didn't want the first thing he told his Oracle about the situation to be that all the gods that could have directly witnessed the "explosion" had been killed by it.

As the Oracle spoke, the storm cloud took notes in a damp notepad it kept steady with a current of air, burning the information onto the pages with a thread of lightning that meandered across the page like a Tesla coil. VENDOR, who'd backed out of "interviewing" range but not out of hearing range, partially turned to listen to her statement. (And while the other gods were distracted, the furred serpent quietly slunk off, trying to hide her spray paint as she did; the Axolotl didn't call attention to her. If the storm needed anything else from her, no doubt it had already gotten her contact info. Better that she go before the cops circled back to harass her some more.)

The Oracle said that her people's seers had seen a whole patch of the sky burning bright blue and collapsing together, the edges going black and the center growing impossibly bright, until everything sank into the center—and then went dark. Only once it was dark could they see what the light had been concealing: behind the collapsed patch of sky, there was a sea of seething colors. (The assembled group tried not to stare too obviously at the multicolored miasma that used to be Dimension Zero.) One seer had gone blind staring straight into the light, trying to discover anything about its nature.

The cloud asked, "And did she see anything important?"

The Oracle said hesitantly, as though not sure whether this detail mattered: "She said the light was... triangular."

A chill settled over the Axolotl. 

The cloud stopped, perplexed. "Huh." And then it dutifully burned that information down as well.

(Maybe it was nothing; triangles were very common symbols, lots of phenomena naturally formed triangles. Or maybe what she'd seen was whatever the triangle had done to try to save his people. Or maybe, maybe....)

While the cloud was focused on taking down its notes, the Oracle dragged her eyes from the tumbling colors of Dimension Zero and turned to the Axolotl. "We're worried about what these visions mean." She switched from interviewee to interviewer, all journalistic professionalism. "What did they see? What was this explosion?"

The Axolotl focused on the question to push the triangle from his mind. His eyes began to glow, as he recited:

"The multiverse is layered planes,

Stacked to bear existence's strains.

1D pillars, 2D walls,

3D rooms in 4D halls;

On a 0D foundation:

That's reality's construction. 

One wall falls into the basement,

It can shake the whole apartment.

But other walls can still load-bear

Until the gods can make repairs."

"Okay... Thank you. And—our plane is 3D?"

"That's right."

The Oracle took notes of her own: one of her four hands spun in loose loops, like an absent-minded conductor. In her physical body, she'd be holding a marker in a trance, copying down the prophecy the Axolotl had given her. No doubt it would be in the mortal papers on her world by tomorrow. The Axolotl thought it was better that the mortals know there was something wrong but that the people who had the power to do something about it were on the job, rather than just worry without answers. (Again, he was sometimes in the minority opinion. VENDOR was managing to give him the stink eye without a face.) "Is the multiverse actually structured like an apartment complex?"

"No," the Axolotl said. "It's a helpful visual metaphor." And it had rhymed with basement.

"But... this is something you can fix?"

"It is. There are gods of space and doomsday already here working to stabilize the foundation and repair the fallen wall." (VENDOR's lights flickered a bit brighter at the positive acknowledgment to the press.)

"Gods of doomsday?" She gave him an alarmed look.

"It's a misleading title. The ones here work to prevent accidental apocalypses."

"You're underselling the severity of the issue," the storm cloud muttered, not looking up from its notes. "This isn't your run-of-the-mill cosmic repair job. A second dimension's fully collapsed into the zeroth dimension. That's a plane packed into a point. That shouldn't be possible. It's destabilized everything built on top of the zeroth dimension—which means the entire multiverse." (VENDOR tried to shush it. It didn't acknowledge THEM.) "Plus, this fire is kicking our collective butts. One- and two-dimensional gods are getting incinerated, not even afterlives and underworlds are escaping the fire, reality itself is at risk of collapsing, we still don't know what's doing it—"

VENDOR let out a beep that was as loud as a car alarm. "Is there any reason the mortals need to know that!"

"Ehh... not that I can think of." The cloud glanced up from its notes. "They're powerless to do anything about it. It'd just make them worry about something that's out of their h..." Its roving sunbeams caught on the Oracle, still diligently taking notes on this out-of-control fire. "Oh."

Quietly, the Oracle asked, "You're sure the multiverse will be fine? If this fire even kills gods..."

The Axolotl paused. "I was more sure a second ago."

"It'll stand," the storm cloud said grimly, "but if we can't stop the fires, not for long. We've called out every god we can to help, but..."

"It should stand," VENDOR said quickly. "I'm sure the other walls are fine—I've personally seen to it that we're rigorous about maintaining our dimensions' structural integrity."

The cloud's sunbeam aimed ruefully at the missing wall. "Good work," it muttered.

VENDOR rounded angrily on it, "Well all the preventative cosmic inspections in the multiverse are useless if the inspectors didn't do their job right! Which they clearly didn't!"

The cloud raised a wall of fog defensively.

VENDOR paced in an angry figure 8 as THEY fumed, "It's incompetence all around! I'll bet anything it was electricians who miswired the laws of electromagnetism and shorted them out, or—or something! A properly constructed load-bearing wall imploding, much less dumping into the center of reality, just doesn't happen! And nobody noticed the danger?"

"We can't rule out the possibility of terrorism yet," the cloud said. 

 VENDOR rounded on the cloud to demand, "What terrorist would risk destroying the multiverse?!"

Angry lightning danced around its tornado. "How should I freaking know! A stupid one?!"

"Hah! That's all you've got?! The dimensions might have been burned by a stupid terrorist?" THEY turned on the Oracle. "Do not print that!"

Her hand froze mid-loop.

Thunder rumbled in the storm cloud. "Look, apocalypse Origin & Cause is still investigating, and the cosmic engineering inspector isn't here yet. If you'd give us five nanoseconds to do our jobs—!"

"What do you mean, isn't here yet! What's taking them so long?"

"I just put in the call—"

"That's no excuse, they ought to have been here before you called! Do engineers have time tapes or not!" VENDOR let out several irritated beeps as THEIR internal motors ground in irritation. "Probably dragging their heels because they didn't do their job properly before the dimension fell! Oh, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind." THEY charged off, still muttering, "I'll have the heads of the last inspector and the lazy subcontractors who didn't build this dimension up to code! If this does anything to jeopardize my reelection— You there, police!" (The crab cop, who'd attempted to make himself useful by eyeing the reporters still outside the cordon menacingly, started at being directly addressed again.) "I need your assistance! I need someone to hold up a phone for me."

The Axolotl gave THEM a wide berth as THEY passed. Even as a god who almost exclusively dealt with the dead, this level of devastation left the Axolotl stunned with horror. But VENDOR's biggest concern wasn't the loss of life? Nor the threat to public safety posed by the exposed and mutated Dimension Zero? It was a stupid election?

He made a mental note to look into Municipalitron's policies before the next election.

Quietly, the Oracle asked, "Are you safe here? If there's a fire that can even kill gods..."

When the storm had told the Axolotl about 2Δ's fire, it had said not even gods and ghosts made it out— The Axolotl's frills perked up. "Right, I came back here to tell it— Er, yes, I think I'm safe—but I need to tell—" He turned to the storm cloud, "I haven't told you what I saw yet!"

"Oh, right—I meant to congratulate you on coming back alive." It flipped to a new page in its notepad. "Congrats."

"You said that everyone in 2Δ died," the Axolotl said.

"They did. I can guarantee it." It grew its tornado to pantomime an expanding ring: "The readings Origin & Cause have gotten so far indicate that an enormous gravitational wave from the spontaneous combustion event's epicenter tore the universe apart. Imagine gluing a bunch of corn chips to a tablecloth, pulling the tablecloth tight from both sides, and dragging the tablecloth straight down off one end of the table. It'd shatter all the chips as they passed over the table's edge. Destroyed everyone and everything in that universe, on every plane. Landscape, mindscape, dreamscape..."

"Well," the Axolotl said, with the edge of triumph he got whenever he figured out how to rip a prosecutor's witness in half, "I found survivors. So how's that possible?"

He expected surprise. Instead, the cloud bobbed up and down in recognition, as though the Axolotl were confirming something it already knew. 

On the other hand, from half a solar system away, VENDOR shouted indignantly, "I beg your pardon?!" THEY leaned away from the phone the cop was holding for THEM. "How many?" THEY began rotating through THEIR internal selection of planets.

"Two or three million," the Axolotl called back.

VENDOR huffed irritably and switched to looking through their collection of much smaller, rockier astronomical bodies. "Hardly worth a moon, much less a planet," THEY muttered. "From Dimension 2 Delta, I assume."

"No," the storm cloud said. "Everyone in 2Δ is dead. He must've found the poor suckers getting dragged down from the other dimensions."

The Axolotl stared at it. "Dragged down from what?"

Before the cloud could answer, the flock of sheep it had been speaking to earlier called, "Boss?" They had clearly just come from the direction of the bright blue line on the horizon—and their fleeces was now stained with soot. "We're losing refugees even faster in Dimension 2 Epsilon, what's the new plan?" Dimension 2 Epsilon?

The Axolotl felt a chill wind blow off the storm cloud; but its voice was just as hard as ever as it said, "I'll check it out myself." Its sunbeam pointed toward the Axolotl. "Maybe you oughta come along, I can explain it on the way." it said. "Just you." And the beam drifted down to highlight the Oracle.

"Yes, I understand."

Its bright gaze turned toward the apoc flock. "Hold down the fort until we get back."

"Got it, boss."

The Axolotl turned to the Oracle and said quietly, "You should wake up. I'll contact you with more when I can."

As strongly as he believed the mortals ought to be privy to whatever knowledge the gods had about the crisis, he didn't think traumatizing his Oracle wold benefit anyone.

####

Apparently, the Axolotl had only been told about half the situation. As they traveled along where Dimension 2 Delta used to be, the storm cloud caught him up on the rest. It had been telling the truth about everything in 2Δ being destroyed. It had simply burned too fast and too thoroughly, and it wasn't until the flames reached the edges of the universe and looped back to eat themselves that the inferno began to slow down.

Slow down... but not stop.

Why hadn't the Axolotl realized sooner? Why would there be so many firefighters on the scene, if the fire had gone out before the first ever arrived? What was the distant blue line of light he'd followed until he found the ATTF's center of operations, if not the light of still-burning stars? Why would VENDOR have come to provide new worlds for refugees, if everyone had been so sure 2Δ didn't have any refugees?

When the flames had reached the edge of 2Δ, they'd effortlessly incinerated the first dimensions bordering its edges, like a flame consuming a flash string in a magic trick, and moved straight across to the next second dimensions.

"Dimensions 2 Delta, 1 Gamma-Delta, and 1 Delta-Epsilon were completely incinerated before anyone arrived on the scene," the cloud said. "We lost 1 Alpha-Delta and 1 Delta-Zeta after we got here—it's a miracle the fire didn't cross from 2 Delta over 1 Alpha-Delta into 2 Alpha. 2 Gamma's over ninety percent gone; at this point we're trying to detach it from the closest first dimensions and hoping the flames will stop at its borders. And we're just trying to rescue who we can from 2 Epsilon and 2 Zeta, because every time we start to get the fire under control, it restarts itself."

The Axolotl felt sick. Five dimensions had been destroyed? Three more dimensions were still burning—one on the verge of being lost?

"Some of your survivors must've been dragged down into Dimension Zero," it went on. "Or into the miasma around it. I guess you must not have run into Zero itself in there, or else you wouldn't be here to tell us about it."

"I don't think Dimension Zero is in that miasma; I think the miasma is Dimension Zero. It had some properties of a spaciotemporal singularity... except it's... big. Big but—all in one place. And there's time happening, but all in one moment." He was in no fit state to try to explain this. He wasn't sure he even understood himself.

"Huh," the storm said. "Never seen anything like that before. I guess that explains where the rubble from 2Δ went, but—I have no idea how the physics in there must be working."

"I didn't see any rubble. Would there be any? If everything was destroyed—gods, souls, afterlives, dreams..."

"Subatomic ashes. The dimension's matter still oughta be somewhere."

He tried to remember if he'd seen anything that might be subatomic ashes. All he could remember was the three dimensional stars and stardust that had fallen in—and the party, and the bleeding. "If it was there, I wouldn't know how to sense it."

By the time they reached the edge of Dimension 2 Epsilon, and a 2D plane once more safely covered up the shifting border of Dimension Zero, the distant line of light had grown into a sea of pallid blue flame: the hydrogen of countless two dimensional stars burning as their universe crumbled and crunched up. In the distance, beyond the fire's perimeter, the Axolotl could see the still-unburned flat constellations and nebulas—and the divine firefighters chopping and hacking the universe in twain ahead of the fire edge. He realized that fire crews he'd seen nervously milling about earlier were just a skeleton crew: the real firefighting force was out here.

The flames seemed reluctant to lick up into the third dimension; they clung hard to the second dimensions, barely even radiating heat into the neighboring universe. There was an eerie focused calm to the gods trying to stop the fires below—all the devastation beneath them, close enough to touch, and yet not touching them. Yet. 

Even as many firefighters as were out here trying to get the fire under control, they couldn't cover the entire perimeter; and so the storm cloud lead the Axolotl right up to the fire edge along a span that the stretched-thin firefighting force didn't currently have covered. They were close enough that a few of the storm's raindrops fell on the fire, making it sizzle out in some small spots, only for the inferno to roar back to life a moment later.

The storm spoke for the first time in several minutes: "I can't begin to tell you how, but it's like the fire's fighting back against us. Every time the fire crews get even a little bit under control, it erupts again. We've had to start breaking off the burning portions of reality to keep the fires from spreading to the rest of the dimension," it gestured at the gods at work cracking off an enormous slab of existence from the rest of the dimension to create a chasm half a galaxy wide between the fire and the as yet still safe portion of the universe. The separated portion buckled and bubbled in the fire like a melting piece of plastic. "And... even that's not enough. Cosmic fires aren't my speciality—but I'm told breaking a dimension is guaranteed to stop a fire. But this one just keeps finding a way to... jump across."

"What do you mean, 'jump across'?"

On the safe side of the chasm, at least a lightyear away, a perfectly well-behaved solar system randomly burst into a geyser of flames.

"Oh."

Firefighters rushed to the newly burning star. Several planets had already blackened, curled up, and crumbled to ashes. The ashes rained down into Dimension Zero.

The storm cloud turned their path toward the new fire, the Axolotl following close behind. "They don't even always pop up near the fire edge like this." (As though a flame jumping an entire lightyear away could be called "near.") "Half a dozen popped up at random throughout Dimension 2 Gamma before we even realized how this fire moved. And as if that isn't bad enough, if the fire isn't targeting mortals, I'll eat my fedora."

This time, the Axolotl decided not to tempt fate by asking how a fire could target anything.

The firefighters struggled to contain the new fire with a line of 3D flame-retardant foam. They weren't even trying to put the fire out, he realized; they'd given up the solar system for lost. They were only trying to keep the fire back from one planet: a disc-shaped world, already cracked from the way the heat had warped and bent this dimension's surface, surrounded by billions of glittery flecks. People. His frills flicked forward in alarm.

Rescuers were using planet-sized planes to scoop the bewildered two-dimensional people off their endangered dimension, like spatulas trying to rescue a pancake from a skillet in the fires of hell, and handing them off to other rescuers to relocate to one of the refugee planets VENDOR had supplied. But as the storm and Axolotl caught up the fire somehow found a way past the solid wall of 3D foam to ignite the moon orbiting the hapless planet.

And as if that wasn't enough, it sprung up on the people, too. The screaming populations of entire towns spontaneously caught fire. To his horror, the Axolotl understood now what the storm had meant by the fires targeting mortals. Reality warped and bent beneath them, twisting, melting; burning people were crushed together by the distortions in reality and fused together into dozen-mouthed wailing bodies. The overburdened plane of reality ripped and disintegrated like threadbare fabric over a candle, and people fell screaming into Dimension Zero before they could be caught.

The storm cloud flinched back with a flash of lightning. "Shoot—it is getting faster."

The Axolotl automatically lunged forward to help them. A split-second wall of shrieking lightning blocked his path and a gust of wind pushed him back. "Don't," the storm snapped. "Leave it to the professionals."

"Sorry." The Axolotl backed up a safe distance with the storm cloud, stomach twisting. "Is there any way I can help—?"

"No," the storm cloud said quickly. "This fire can pop up anywhere—it's already caught four firefighters, and they're trained to deal with this stuff. We can't risk it spreading to the third dimension."

He hated not helping—but unfortunately, he understood. "How did you put out the fires on the firefighters?"

"We didn't. We threw them into Dimension Zero."

The storm was right; there was nothing natural about a fire that could kill gods.

"I've gotta go find out the latest," it said. "Can you stay out of trouble for a few minutes?"

"Yes. I promise." Although it might be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

The storm cloud left the Axolotl; and the Axolotl watched the fire.

####

It went against every instinct in his body not to reach out to scoop up the falling dead.

He'd worked for eons as a psychopomp before switching to a career that gave him more of a voice in what happened to the souls he escorted. He'd met billions of species with billions of different ways of dying; he wasn't squeamish around corpses, injuries, rot, disease. He was comfortable around death. Heck, he and death had each other's phone numbers for emergencies—they regularly crossed paths at professional networking events. 

But there were some deaths worse than others, and there were fates worse than death. As he watched, an oval with thin little arms plummeted into a direction it couldn't even see, its body burning up; and then its ghost burned up, too. It would never join the eternal dance party, and the Axolotl wasn't sure whether it was the lucky one.

As he watched, the Axolotl noticed something strange. Like any populated world, there were probably millions to trillions of different species around this one, although at a glance the Axolotl could only spy a handful. But although all of them were eventually caught by the flames, there was only one species that seemed to be victim of spontaneous combustion—and that seemed to be falling into Dimension Zero: the people that looked like living geometric shapes.

When the storm returned, it was quieter; even its tornado spun more slowly. The Axolotl got the sense it hadn't received good news.

But it didn't share what it had received. It said, "I've seen my fair share of apocalypses, but I've never seen anything like this before. Whatever this fire is, it's not natural." The eye of the storm watched one of the melting people falling like cinders into the center of the multiverse, until even its sunbeam couldn't pierce the miasma. "Ten to one, I'd bet you something intelligent is doing that."

"Your stupid terrorist?"

The cloud laughed ruefully. "Yeah." It watched a moment longer; then sighed out a long gust of wind and tried to rally some of its earlier stoicism. "So. Those people you saw in Dimension Zero must be the mortals from the dimensions around 2Δ getting dragged in by the fire. You can see how they've been peeling off their planes when the flames get 'em. I'm amazed they survived the fall into Dimension Zero."

"Survived" maybe wasn't the word the Axolotl would choose; but he didn't know how to begin to explain the horrors he'd seen down there.

He tore his eyes from the terrible rain of corpses. "Not all of them," he said. "I know for a fact at least one of the survivors is from 2Δ. I know him. I've met him before."

"You have." The storm managed to look dubious at this. "You're sure it wasn't an alternate of the same guy from a neighboring dimension?"

"I talked to him in Dimension 2 Delta. He remembered meeting me. It's him."

"Huh." The storm processed that silently. "Nope. I've got no explanation for that."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 2 of a 5-or-6 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. Here's part one if you missed it. I'm posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl slowly discover just how much of a monster that silly triangle he likes really is.

It's ALSO chapter 62 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. I'm gonna fix the chapter numbering once I know how many chapters this plot is. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a oneshot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: nobody commented on the fact that I was calling Bill's dimension "Dimension 2 Delta" rather than just "the second dimension"—but I hope that, somewhere in your hearts, some of you were wondering what I had to differentiate his dimension from that necessitated labeling it Delta. :)

I think this is probably the least horrifying out of all the chapters. Because of that, I'm worried it's kinda boring, but that might just be because I'm comparing it to the undead corpse party. And also Bill isn't here.

It's also the least edited chapter because I may or may not have spent the last three days drawing the second dimension burning instead of writing and ran 30 minutes past posting time doing last minute rewrites lmao. So uh, lemme know if there are any typos, sentences that don't make sense because I changed how I wanted to phrase them halfway through and didn't notice, weird internal contradictions, whatever.

But more importantly let me know what y'all think!!)

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slip, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“An impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want you cum coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into obvious for what it seems like endlessly, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, i did that, didn’t i?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassure, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”