#MASTER ON THEIR KNEES SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP OVER not getting the servant they wanted out of the summoning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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The Servant and The Prince | Four

Mama Mia, here we go again lovelies!

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki, chapter four

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC

Warnings: anger, mentions of abuse (not graphic), mentions of death (not graphic)

Tags: angst, fluff

Word count: 6.2k (oh god)

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Master List

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

“Come on you churl—” Estrid hisses, her demon-esq nails digging into her arm where her step mother’s hand curls over sleeve— “you are making us look bad. At least pretend to have some couth.”

Estrid drags her forward for a moment, ushering her— all but kicking her— through the blinding gates before losing interest and rushing to meet Anna. Y/n bites her tongue. There are many things she could say. It is almost strange just how many retorts rush to her tongue. They race through her skull, infecting her mind like a sort of mould. Unlike with the bread back home she cannot seem to pick away at it— she cannot make the bad spots go away.

Perhaps if they had not left her to carry all of their things then she would not be taking so long. Do they really believe the princes will spare their diamonds a glance anyway? They are sure to be able to smell the fakes from miles away!

Y/n blinks a few times at the roar of fire that swells in her chest, encasing her very lungs in flames, almost stumbling over the marble stairs beneath her. It feels as though if she does not scream right now— if she does not say everything on her mind, unleash this pent up resentment— then she will surely cook from the inside out. It bubbles, simmers, does the thing pots do when they begin to sizzle— like they are screaming but she is not screaming; she only wishes she was. But she has never wanted to scream and she has been through so much worse. What is one little name, one hand yanking her arm? It is nothing but still she is ready to let the flames engulf her and burn the entire city.

It is terrifying— this kind of all consuming rage.

Estrid turns back towards Y/n, who is still stumbling over the steps, always the faithful servant, and her step mother scoffs. Estrid mutters something under her breath that she cannot hear. An insult, no doubt. It does not reach her ears. There is no way she would have been able to hear it anyway, not over the sound of the flames disintegrating her bones and blood and flesh from the inside out. It makes her want to scream louder— harder, make the castle walls crumble the same way she feels like she is— loud enough to hear over the roar.

Can you not hear it? Do you not care? She can taste the words as they beg for mercy on her tongue, wanting nothing more than to die on the cobblestone before her, spat out in a string of venom like they are meant to be. Can they not see that she is burning to the ground?

She barely swallows the words— she can hear them crying as they pass her throat and she almost changes her mind. She almost sets them free. It is all she can do to bend her neck at her step mother, wonder if the flames are visible in her eyes, and try not to cough up smoke right here on the castle steps. That would be very unladylike— a dishonor on her family. Oh— wait— no it would not be. Her family is dead. She can vomit as much smoke and flames as her little, burning heart desires. She has no one left to bring shame to. Gods, she is so terrified.

Why she is terrified, she does not know. She has never been scared before— not like this.

She was scared of the dark for the longest time. She used to see shadows on her walls and under the waves in the wash basin and against the trees when her mother would make her fetch the cat before bed. She used to think that was true fear— the night. The shadows. The wash basin. But then the morning sun would come and fight the shadows— then her mother would empty the basin— and before long there was nothing left to be afraid of.

But then there was no mother to empty the wash basin and suddenly she was afraid of death and the dark. Surely death must be the greatest fear one can have. Right? The all consuming nothingness, the longest sleep, the unknown. What could be scarier than the unknown? Than losing the people she loves the most and being left to wonder where they are and what they are doing— if they can even do anything— and are they okay? Please, someone just tell her, are they okay? She is not okay.

Darkness and death— death and darkness. At least those were always the scariest things and at least she had overcome them— both of them. There is nothing scarier than those two things. Except, apparently, herself. That is all there is left to be afraid of. Not Estrid or Anna, not pain. Not him. Those are all things she has survived. Overcome. Enjoyed. There is only herself to be afraid now, and the overwhelming, unbearable anger unfurling in her chest and arms and neck and skull. She is terrified of herself.

She is terrified of the anger.

“This way ladies— your chambers are this way!”

Y/n blinks— certain her eyelashes are singed and the blur in her vision is from the smoke in her eyes— and finds that she is no longer on the marble steps but in a long hallway. Pillars rise to her left, showcasing an expansive forest and a smudge of blue that must be the ocean. It feels so close— she can see the waves cresting with white foam so it must be. She can smell the salt, like it is right next to her. She can almost feel the surf lapping at her toes, cooling some of the burning tingle. She would do anything for it to rush up her legs. Soak her dress. Make her skin sticky. She would take the stickiness over the relentless flames. There is no time, though, to take her moment of peace. No time for stickiness. There never is.

“Are you deaf?” Estrid’s hand presses down on her spine, right where the bruises are from the last time the two came in contact. “Move! I will not take kindly to getting the worst chamber because of your dawdling.”

Are the bruises purple? She wonders. Perhaps they are red and black— like molten lava, shifting under her skin. She does not voice her musings aloud, of course. She swallows those thoughts alongside the rest of them. She can feel the precise way they fall on top of their partners, each wasted syllable mushing into the last. They fill her aching belly all the way, pressing on the hollow dip of her throat. If her thoughts were food she would never be hungry again.

Of course, she does not say any of that. Instead she bows her head, eating the flames as they rise. She is so full already though. “I am very sorry, Milady.”

Estrid scoffs. “You should be. Henry should have drowned you at birth had he known you would be so slow.”

At the sound of her father’s name her head snaps up. Estrid is already walking away again, hurrying to meet her impatient daughter. Anna taps her heel against the marble. Click, click, click. Each tap makes her head pound harder. Soon she cannot hear the clicks anymore. Her father would never do anything of the sort— her father was kind! They are not looking at her anymore. They cannot see the smoke billowing from her ears. They cannot see the blackness she feels flashing across her vision. They cannot see the hate. Just like she cannot see the bruises. Are they purple? Are they scarlet? What would her father think of them? She cannot see the bruises but she can feel them. Hot and itchy and painful. Can they feel the hatred? Are they just ignoring it like she is ignoring the volcanic bruises?

Probably. And they are not the only ones. Y/n weaves through the crowded hallway, dodging women of all shapes and colors— quite literally, she narrowly passes a woman with purple tinted skin— all of whom spare her not even a glance. It makes her feel invisible. It makes feel like she can finally breathe. It makes her angry. She is breathing the smoke again. Every face that passes her that does not look at her makes her charcoal lungs ignite even more. Her only solace is the all too familiar feeling of being split in two. The anger is not wholly her own— it is his as well. She can feel him in her chest, that aching part of her anger where he demands to be seen.

Is he mad at her?

She stops dead in her tracks. Just like that, her own anger is gone, replaced with something ice cold and unbearable. It starts in her hands. Her wrists begin aching— freezing— as the ice flows up through her veins. She thought the fire was bad. She takes it all back in this moment— she wants the flames again. The ice is in her chest now. She can feel it creeping closer to her heart. She wants the anger back. Her anger. Why would he be angry with her?

Does he hate her? She can no longer feel her heart beating— the ice has done its job. It is after her throat now, climbing higher and higher. What would it feel like to throw up shards of Ice? Nevermind, she does not want to know. She had wanted to scream before. She had wanted to burn the kingdom down with her voice and words and screams. Now she cannot even whimper. Her tongue is frozen. Her knees hit the floor— she does not feel it. Maybe it does not even happen, maybe her eyes are just frozen now and playing tricks on her. They make her feel as though she is falling— pull the ground from under her and send her vision spinning— but perhaps she is still standing. Still following. Still invisible.

Why would he hate her?

She watches as feet pass by her, heels and boots of all colors all slowing when they cross her path. Well, maybe they are slowing. Maybe that is just her mind continuing to play tricks on her though. She would not be able to tell the difference right now— if there is one, that is. She cannot look past the soles of the shoes, cannot meet the eyes of those passing her. She is stuck— her neck which was so hot only moments ago now stiff. To think that a simple thought could send her reeling in such a grand way as to literally floor her. It is almost impressive, actually. If she could feel anything other than the crushing, ice cold weight on her shoulders then perhaps she would laugh.

To think that a nameless, faceless man could make her feel such torrential and devastating emotions. Anger and sadness. Longing and desperation. It is unreal the things he makes her feel. Otherworldly things. Impossible, tragic, wonderful things. There is no way that any of it is real. She must be losing her mind. She wishes she was losing her mind. Her chest zaps where the emerald ring hits her sternum, tied to a thin strap of leather around her neck, the ice melting for a fraction of a second. It taps against her skin as her hands meet the marble floor, a gentle reminder that this— he— is real. Gods. A measure of the anger sparks back up and this time she knows that it is entirely her own.

When she was a little girl she used to watch the dust devils in her neighbours corn field. Her father would watch with her sometimes. One of those times he explained what was happening. He told her that wind only spirals like that when the cold air meets the hot air. When that happens— and the temperatures collide— they begin to fight. Imagine them like two rivals, her father had said. The cold air grabs the hot air’s hair. In turn the hot air kicks out at the cold air’s knees. They keep doing that— kicking and shoving and biting and pulling— until finally their limbs are but a blur. That is all a dust devil is, my girl— two rivals fighting. She had not thought to ask him what happens when the cold air and the hot air are not rivals— she had not thought to ask what would happen if the hot air and the cold air were actually lovers. Would the same thing happen? Those little dust devils? Would it be better?

Would it be worse?

Much like most things in her life, she does not know the answer to that. All she knows is that she can feel the air— be them rivals or lovers— punching and kicking, kissing and touching, in her chest and it hurts. All she knows is that if he is real then he better come and get her right now before her body caves to the icy fire tornado that is swirling in her lungs. She is going to implode.

“My dear—” a warm hand lands on her shoulder and it is like magic the way her thoughts are silenced, leaving behind nothing but a harsh ringing in her ears— “are you alright? That was quite the spill you just took.”

Whoever is speaking to her has a voice that is like honey and silk. It wraps around her, soothing every ache in her weary body. The hand rubs a circle into her shoulder, not letting her go, and she begins to thaw, the ice around her eyes and throat and heart melting away in seconds. Not back to the anger— no, that is long gone, a mere thought in the back of her mind— but instead to a new feeling. She is neither ice nor fire— she is springtime. She is warm and calm, her fingers flexing against the marble like small creatures emerging from hibernation. She curls them a few times, relishing in the blood as it returns to her hands and the way it does not feel as though it is burning her. It is not fire, it is just blood.

“Do you think you can get up?” The soft voice is right next to her ear now and she closes her eyes for a moment. It sounds so familiar— so gentle. She never thought she would hear that voice again. “I think maybe we should go to the healers— just in case, my dear.”

She can smell it now— the yeast. The berries. She takes a deep breath in and she can taste the strawberry jam on her lips like she is eight years old again. Her father used to always sneak her an extra pastry after dinner. They would split it on the back porch, their fingers sticky and their laughter twisting into the twilight. Her mother must have known— she was meticulous. She was so aware of the things around her at all times. She was beautiful and kind and made the best jam in the entire realm.

“Mother?” The word slips off her tongue instinctively. Naturally. She cannot stop it because, for a moment, it is as though she is right next to the woman she misses most. It is as though everything is okay again.

Y/n lifts her head— she finally can, her neck is no longer stiff with ice— her eyes landing on a woman with flowing golden hair that twists and curls against her chest. It is not her mother. Her chest squeezes. She knows that it should not— it was never going to be her mother and she knows that— but she cannot help but feel deflated. If there was ever a time for a miracle it would be right now. Preferably a miracle that makes the best strawberry pastries and gives hugs that feel like taking a warm bath. She shakes her head lightly, clearing the thought and the mist that has begun to gather in her eyes. It is not the time for sentimentality.

The woman— the woman who is not her mother— has soft blue eyes— iridescent almost— that bore into her own. There is a ring around her pupils where the blue turns to a darker coal. For a moment it looks like the ring is pulsing. The longer Y/n looks into her eyes the deeper she falls into them. It does not feel as much like drowning as one would think. It is a softer kind of falling— it is as though the woman can see every inch of her soul with a simple look. Her aroma strengthens, changing slightly. The yeast is no longer present— that was only ever her imagination— and now there is a strong, flowery scent. It is strangely intoxicating.

She has to blink a few times, turning away for a taste of fresh air, her gaze falling to the woman’s flowing silk gown. It is a delicate ivory number with beautiful embroidery all over the bust. Little flowers. Perhaps that is where the scent is coming from, wafting off the garden around her collarbone. She really is springtime.

The woman laughs and the flowers sway, moved by a breeze of breath and glee. “Oh my darling, I think you just confirmed my thoughts. Let's get you up, alright? See if we can find someone to take a look at you. Your head must be pounding.”

She is like an oasis in the desert. Y/n has never been to the desert but still— this is what she imagines it would feel like. Gentle and easy, like a cool breeze or a patch of shade. It would feel like the soothing touch of this woman’s hands as she pulls her body from its heap on the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from toppling right over again. Her legs feel unstable and her knees are shaking but everything is okay. But oasis’ are just figments of the imagination— or at least this one is. They are doomed to fizzle away eventually, taking with them the joyful shade and leaving behind the scorching heat.

As the golden woman begins to turn with her, no doubt pulling her in the direction of the supposed healers, there is an ear piercing screech.

“There you are! You were supposed to be following us you dense child.” Estrid is in front of Y/n in seconds, her narrowed eyes locked on her and the familiar, gut wrenching sneer on her scarlet lips. “It is like you never listen on purpose— you just mill about in your own little world. Always about Y/n, never about anyone else.”

The fire from before— the scorching heat— begins bubbling in the pit of her stomach. It splashes like tar, slowly coating her insides in that all consuming hate. She bites her tongue, clenching her jaw. She can still feel the woman’s hand on her shoulder. There is still a piece of the oasis and she clings to it. But even that is being consumed— the touch melting into the lightning in her veins. She is definitely going to explode.

Her step mother takes a step towards her but halts, her eyes darting to the floor where they stay for a long moment. When her neck snaps back up she is positively fuming. “You dropped our things! Why you ungrateful little brat, I—”

In less than the blink of an eye she is no longer looking at her step mother but rather at the back of a blonde head, her hand laced with a hand so soft she would think it an evening glove.

“This young woman has tripped.” The blonde woman’s voice is calm still but holds no more of that gentle tread. Her hand squeezes softly, a contrast to her firm tone. “I will be escorting her to the healers to see what has happened.”

Estrid blinks, her eyes darting away from Y/n and up to the new woman. When she does her entire face goes pale, as though she has seen a ghost. How odd.

“Your Majesty.” Estrid bows her head, her knees bending slightly in a curtsy.

Your Majesty? Y/n’s eyes drift back to the gown— the marvelous ivory silk. It is as though all the little details begin appearing in that moment. The high thread count, the intricate stitching at the waist and bodice, the gemstone bracelet on her dainty wrist. That bracelet alone must be worth more than her entire life. Sapphires and rubies and emeralds. She wears it as though she has no idea how much it is worth— as though she has no idea it is even there at all. She wears it as though she is royalty and she has many more of them in her room.

Oh no— no, no, no.

The blonde woman turns back to her, her crystal eyes softening marginally from what she can only imagine was an icy stare moments ago. “Come on, dear. I will take you to my healer.”

Y/n shakes her head, her eyes wide. Her spine aches as she does. Her mouth feels like it is filled with cotton. She cannot speak but she has to. She has to refuse.

“No, no, your Majesty—” She copies Estrid’s greeting, she does not know what else to call her— “I am alright, truly. I do not wish to burden you further. I will—” She pauses, woozy all of a sudden, the salty breeze ten times stronger— “I will be fine.”

The woman’s crystal eyes narrow but not in the sharp way her step mother’s usually do. “My child, I insist. You do not look well.”

Y/n can practically feel Estrid’s stare burrowing into the side of her face. She can feel the bruises on her back— perhaps purple, perhaps yellow. It does not matter. If she does not go now then they will surely be black in an hour. Less. There it is— there is the fear she had been missing. She wobbles slightly on her feet. The salt air mingles with the pine trees. It is intoxicating— it is deadly. She is going to pass out if she does not move. She shakes her head at the woman, hoping there is something in her eyes that conveys the danger she feels.

“I am alright,” even she can hear the pleading tone in her voice. “Please.”

The woman— the Queen— stares at her for a moment. It is only a few seconds, the coal ring around her pupils pulsing gently, but it feels like days. It feels like a lifetime. She purses her rosy lips, taking a deep breath.

A hand— one much more rough and hot— wraps around her other wrist. “Your Majesty—” Estrid’s nasally voice is high pitched, like she is attempting to hide her cruel intentions— “my daughter just needs to sleep I think. I can take over from here.”

Y/n forces a smile to her lips— one that tastes like metal and blood— like betrayal— hoping it is enough to convince the queen. She adds a little nod in there for good measure. It is all about appearances. For a moment she thinks it is actually going to work. The Queen’s shoulders sag gently, her chin dipping down in a partial nod. It is actually working— maybe she will not get punished too harshly. She will pick up the bags and hurry to their room and stay as silent as a mouse and everything will be fine. Right?

Estrid squeezes her wrist harder— enough to make her bones whine in pain— and she can feel the on her face grin falter. It is for only a fraction of a second, the corner of her lips peeling down in a grimace that she cannot suppress, but it is enough. By the time she has painted the fake smile back on her face the Queen is at her side, that silky hand curling around her shoulder, gentle but firm enough to pull her away from her step mother. Y/n does not know if she would rather thank her or cry.

“I am afraid I truly must insist. As a Queen—” She stresses the word, her title. This is no longer a suggestion; it is an order— “it is my duty to ensure that all my guests are properly taken care of. It will not take long; just a quick check up.”

The Queen’s hand ushers her a couple steps down the hallway. Estrid follows, her brows pulled together dramatically. “But your Highness, I—”

The Queen holds up her hand, an elegant and dangerous gesture, her kind face cracking under the weight of her furious eyes. She does not even try to conceal the rage swimming in the crystal pools. She does not have to— she will face no repercussion for her anger.

“But nothing. She is to go with me and that is final.” Her burning crystals glance down to the bags, all of which are still spilling over onto the marble, draping the stone with bits of lace and silk, none of which look nearly as exquisite as the Queen’s gown. “I will send someone to gather your belongings and return them to your chambers. Now, if you will kindly excuse us.”

With that she is spinning, pressing her hand gently against Y/n’s back and leading her back in the direction she had come from. She can feel Estrid’s glare on her neck, burning holes in the back of her head. If stares were able to kill then she would be laying in a heap on the marble again, she just knows it. Soon, though, they turn a corner and she can no longer feel her step mother’s lethal gaze. That does not stop her heart from racing so hard that she wonders if it will jump out of her chest. It does not stop the vomit from pooling in her throat. She should feel relieved—grateful— but all she can think about is the pain. Both the pain she is in now and the pain she will be in later.

“It was okay really,” she mutters. It is a last ditch effort, one that is destined to fail before it is even out of her mouth, but she has to try anyway. “I am okay. I think I just slipped.”

She did not slip— she lost it. She does not know quite what it is but she knows whatever it is has been lost. Her sanity. Her grip on reality. Her damn mind. Any and all of them, now gone.

The queen stops, turning her bright blue eyes on her once more. She sighs, her smile understanding. “I think if you had slipped then you would have gotten back up.”

The Queen’s tone is pitying, her fingers gentle on her hand, and Y/n drops her eyes to the ground. She resents it— all of it. She does not want pity. “I needed a moment is all.”

A hand presses under her chin, bringing her gaze back up. There is no more smile on the Queen’s face— only a firmness in her eyes. She does not look so much like a Queen here; she looks like a mother. Her mother. She can see some of her own mother in the faint lines near her eyes and the cupid's bow above her rose petal lips. She has to bite down to keep the ache from her throat at bay.

“That was not a moment, my dear. I was there. That was quite a few moments. You were ready to let those girls trample you, were you not?”

“I— I just—” she swallows hard, trying to make her words work. It seems like she cannot string a sentence together for the life of her. Like her entire vocabulary has vanished— “I needed a moment, your Majesty. That is all.” All she can do is repeat herself.

The Queen narrows her eyes, her thumb smoothing over her jaw before she finally releases her. “Frigga.”

Y/n’s heart stutters and she has to cover her cough from the way all the air whooshes out of her lungs. “Pardon me, your Majesty?”

“Please, call me Frigga.”

This time her heart does not just stutter; it stops completely. She presses a hand against her chest, taking a tiny step backwards. She cannot breathe again. The smile on the Queen’s— Frigga’s— face is too kind. Too gentle. Too much. This is not a trick, she is not trying to get her in trouble. She is not telling her to shut up or to hurry up or to grow up. She is just being kind. No one is kind to her. Not even when they want something from her. What could the Que— Frigga, Y/n, her name is Frigga— possibly want from her? What could she give her that would mean anything more than what she already has? She sucks in a breath, sounding quite like a dying animal in the middle of the thankfully empty corridor. It is too much— it is all too much.

“No, I could not. You Maj—”

Frigga grabs her hand again, her warm skin stilling her own, clammy hands. “Calm child. It is alright. You are alright” Her words are slow, her tone a low murmur. It works wonders on her nerves. It is magic. “Frigga. Please, nobody here calls me anything formal. You should hear my sons.” The side of her mouth quirks up, her tone becoming teasing, “mother, where is father? That is all anyone around here says to me. I am not used to such formalities. I would prefer Frigga, my dear.”

Y/n takes another breath, nodding her head.

“Y/n—” she whispers back, not sure what else to do besides introduce herself back— “my name is Y/n.”

Frigga’s smile grows, nodding as well. She makes it feel like this is a normal exchange— like they are just two new friends meeting for the first time. “That is a lovely name.”

The Queen turns after that, pulling her once more to continue walking down the grand hallway. They move in silence, Frigga no doubt trying to give her some room to breathe. It is surprisingly easy to just be there with her. It is serene. She stares out past the pillars as they walk, her eyes dipping back to the faraway shoreline. Now the water is sparkling in the high afternoon sun, the cresting waves catching the light and bouncing it back and forth amongst each other. It is as though each wave that passes winks at her before smoothing against the sand. She cannot tell if they are saying hello or goodbye. Perhaps neither. Perhaps they are just acknowledging that she is there. She bows her chin gently, acknowledging them as well.

She does not know how long they walk for, her attention too focused on the blinking shore, but soon Frigga is pulling open a heavy wooden door— one that has the most intricate carvings on it’s frame that Y/n longs to stare at in depth—and tugging her in behind her. She has no idea what she is expecting— maybe a herb closet and a long table for practicing healing— it is a healer’s closet after all— but whatever it is, what she sees is not it. She is not expecting the most exquisite room in all of existence.

The first thing her eyes fall to is a wonderfully large pool of water sitting in the middle of the room. It must be the size of her entire bedroom, which granted is not that large but in comparison to her own tiny tin basin at home this is pure luxury. The sides of the pool are golden and tiled with colorful gemstones. She cannot even name all them, not recognizing half of the stones. They catch the light pouring in from the expansive balcony, sparkling against each other. There are steps leading up the side, promising entry into the luscious looking water. Altogether it is hypnotizing, calling her name until she is taking a few stuttered steps towards it. As she gets closer she can smell the fragrant oils, much more rich than anything she is used to.

“Oh my.”

“It is quite something, I will admit.” Frigga laughs from behind her, meeting her next to the edge of the tub. She dips her hand into the water, submerging the expensive bracelet in the water without a care. “It was a present from Odin for our first anniversary. I was just as shocked. I did not leave this room for weeks. I even slept here, can you imagine that?”

“I think I would as well, if I were you. It is stunning.” She, too, dips her hand below the water. She almost gasps at how warm it is— at how soft the water is. “I have never seen anything like it.”

Frigga pulls her hand from the water, shaking the droplets lightly from her skin. She turns back to Y/n, her crystal eyes sparkling with joy. “Perhaps later— only if you would like, of course— you could try it.”

Her mouth falls open, her own hand, still swirling through the silky water, pausing. “Oh no, your Maj—” Frigga purses her lips, her eyes crinkling gleefully— “Frigga, I could not.”

The Queen laughs again and she can hear the way her own mother used to giggle. “Of course you can my dear. In fact, you must! But first let us eat.”

Y/n’s brows pull together— what about the healers? Is that not why she is here?

Frigga must notice her confusion because she lifts her hand to her face, the Queen’s fingers now scented like rose petals. “I have found that the best medicine is a full belly, would you not agree?”

Instantly the tears well up in her eyes again. They are not from sadness this time— nor from longing— instead they are from the relief she feels coursing through her body. It is so foreign that she does not recognize it at first. It is neither hot nor cold. There is no pressure on her chest alerting her to it. In fact there is nothing. She feels nothing. It is exhilarating.

She does not notice the first tear fall until Frigga’s thumb catches it. “Thank you.”

The Queen sighs, her smile faltering. It is still there but barely. “Come, child.”

Y/n follows Frigga to the balcony, passing under some gem coloured curtains and into the warm sunlight. She almost freezes in her tracks, the memory of the last time her back was in the sun still fresh on her mind. Her mind falls back to the man, her nose filling with salt and pine which leaks in from the gardens below. She can feel his hands on her back, crawling over her hips. She does not wonder what color her back is this time— be it purple or yellow or molten red— it does not matter anymore. For some reason the thought of him makes it not matter anymore. He makes it better.

Frigga turns on her heel, her eyes lighting up, her hands shooting out to grasp Y/n’s shoulders. It is all she can do not to reel back from the suddenness of the action, wobbling slightly but smiling. She, in turn, reaches for the Queen’s hands, steadying herself on her silken skin.

“I completely forgot my dear, I told my son to meet me here for afternoon tea. You do not mind, do you?”

Y/n’s breath catches in her throat, her memories surging again. She can taste him on her lips for a brief moment. A short, silly moment. She pushes him down, shaking her head lightly to clear her thoughts. That would be impossible.

“No, of course not this is your home.”

Frigga squeezes her shoulders. “Wonderful!”

As the blonde woman releases her, moving to sit in one of the golden chairs on the balcony, there is a voice that sounds from the door. It is deep, impossibly so, and sends shivers racing down her spine.

“Mother, are you in here?”

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Tag list: @crystal-siren

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #Loki laufeyson x y/n #loki fic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fic #loki laufeyson imagine #mcu #mcu fic #mcu imagine

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sideblogformindtrash · 4 years ago

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CW: Descriptive torture; mentions of body fluids; finger whump; whipping; branding; deshumanization; conditioning; pet/slave whump; creepy whumper; mentioned human trafficking; stress position; restraints; panic attacks; mentioning death/wishing for death.

It’s probably the goriest one I’ve written yet, so viewer discretion is advised and read content warning(?)

I think I’ll stop hurting poor baby Haru for a while after this, I’m almost feeling bad about it. And honestly mr. generic whumper here is so evil it’s boring;

He was curled up against a white, familiar wall, waiting for hell to break loose.

He had spent the night walking around the city, cold, hungry and lost. People stared at him weird, because he was disgusting and worthless.

And the more he walked the more he got lost, and all he wanted as to go back… Back to before he had done what he did.. He had run away… One of the worst offenses he could have ever committed. Useless, stupid, stupid.

It was already early morning when he saw one of the Black Coats, tall and scary, all dressed in the uniform of people he remembered so well. People who worked with… With taming and selling… those like him, who should never, ever be considered people.

He ran up to the scary person, and instinctively grabbed the side of their coat, wide eyed and desperate, pleading blue eyes. They took one look at him and looked at his collar with the contact for his owners.

The person thought he was lost and led him to the facility. Well he… He was a runaway. But telling that to the handler wouldn’t help him on any way, it would only make that handler treat him worse... And look at him with disappointment.

He knew he deserved every bit of it… But he wasn’t even sure he would survive what was planned as his punishment once he was............... home. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to survive.

He missed being in the facility. It was… familiar. It was also safer than he had ever felt at that mansion. He would never have dared escape the facility, he wouldn’t even want to. Where would he even go?

So he crawled up to the corner, hugging his knees, tired and scared. He tried to sleep, but the anxiety was too much. All he could do was cry, bracing against the comforting familiarity of those walls.

…But soon they came to take him back.

The same handler opened the cell, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the main hallway. He lifted his pale blue eyes just for a moment, just to see Young Master’s face. He was… calm, and smiling.

He lowered his head immediately, as the handler threw him to his knees and removed the muzzle. Master gave him a deadly glance, while he signed off the papers and paid the retrieval fee.

Part of him had prayed Young Master decided to give up on him and just… Let him be sold again.

But he knew he wouldn’t get off this one so easily.

…It was raining outside. He went for the trunk, but Master held his arm and pointed.

“…Go on the passenger’s sit” That calm, gentle tone was unfamiliar and dangerous. He shivered, but obeyed. He couldn’t be stupid and do things worse for himself. He looked upwards, trying to prevent the tears from falling, almost choking to swallow the sobs. He wished he had been kept muzzled.

Young Master turned the radio on, cheerfully humming the tune. He curled up on the car sit, not even interested in looking outside. He just wanted so bad to disappear. He was expecting Young Master to be screaming, furious, like he always was… But seeing him smiling like that was more terrifying than anything.

“You want to speak, little bird?” He was looking at the pet with the corner of his eyes “Well, you won’t. I’ve been wanting some really some good reason to hurt you for some time now, you know? I have some different things that I would like to try, but normally, it would make dad angry. He likes you more than you deserve…. Well, now I have a reason. Isn’t that wonderful, little bird?”

His eyes widened. Breathe. Breathe. A sob escaped. He quickly hid his face on his palms… Master kept humming the tune, driving idly trough the city.

“Oh, little one. Don’t look so sad now. If only you weren’t so stupid…” he laughed “I was just messing with you yesterday. I wasn’t really going to cut you open. Just make some markings, here and there, the usual. But today… I’ll make sure to cut off your little wings so you never dare to cross that door again.”

Young Master savored the sheer panic on his face, as he struggled so much not to beg, his heart beating like a drum, the air seeming so scarce he couldn’t breathe. Safe for his sobs and the song, the rest of the car-ride was silent.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The servants gave him some pitiful, pale looks as he was guided to the basement. Young Master wasn’t being rough with him. He was just… gently pushing him, a hand on his back, still cheerfully humming… and that terrified him far more than he would if he had just been dragged. Young Master was never kind. Kindness wasn’t free. His kindness was poison.

He closed the heavy door behind them, guiding him to the center of the room, where he fell on his knees. He had to be good. He couldn’t be dumb and make things worse.

The basement was always a bit dark, walls made of wood and a floor of stone. A lot of scary things hanging from the walls and shelves, and large hooks they could be chained to, a fireplace and old carcasses of cars.

“Hands”

He raised them as fast as he could, despite how much effort that took… they were shaking so much… So pale and so weak, against the heavy metal shackles master locked them with. Young Master lifted him without any difficulty and hang the chain on one of the hooks, leaving him hanging on his tip-toes.

He picked up a whip, first.

“Now… This one is for vomiting over my shoes” Master walked behind him. He ran his fingers over the scarred back, where bruises and marks from other beatings hadn’t healed yet, throwing the long hair over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get on his way “…Twenty. Keep count. Don’t speak, but keep count, or we start over.”

…The whip stroke hard. He whimpered, but otherwise managed to keep composure. Twenty wasn’t so bad. He could take twenty. The second one was worse than the first, and the one after that made him sob. Then again, and again, blood rushing to his back, warm, stinging.

“How many?” Master stopped hitting, he walked closer and led the whip over his back slowly, just, letting it slide over the wounds.

“F-five”

“Good” Master whispered, stepped back and hit again “You are allowed to scream, birdie”

He felt dizzy, he wasn’t strong enough to keep balance. His wrists hurt. The next hits were drawing blood. He wanted to scream but… He didn’t had the strength to do it. He let his head hang low and allowed himself to whimper.

“How many?”

“..A-a…S-six..teen..” words were hard “P-plea”

“A-ah” Master said, grabbing his cheeks, his nails digging on his skin “We barely begun. You’ll be allowed to beg later. Now you can only scream and cry. I want to hear your pain.”

Master was so close to his face now, entangling his fingers on the white hair.

“Did you understand me?” he nodded “Good. Sixteen, is that your answer?”

He lifted his head slightly. Master had a mocking, dangerous smile… he… He was sure it was sixteen. He had been counting. Had he missed one? Was Master giving him a chance? Was this so he would get it wrong?

He couldn’t begin again. Not when this was just the start. He couldn’t he-

A hard slap, turning his head to the side. Fingers marked on his face.

“I made you a question, mutt” …anger. This was familiar. He nodded quickly. He wasn’t sure but… What else could he do? There was no time to think. Master smiled again “…You are correct. Four left.”

He sighed, relieved. It was a taunt after all… The relief was gone with the next hit, more vicious than the other ones, crossing so many of the other marks. He gasped, closing his eyes shut. Three more and he was sobbing once it ended.

He… Should be able to endure more than that. He had before. Was it the fear that was making it worse? Or… the fact that he really deserved it this time? He deserved every one of the hits – and more. He hated himself for being bad, and stupid and dumb, just like Young Master said he was. He deserved it, and all that would come later too.

Young Master walked around him, admiring his work. He was still smiling, still calm, hiding… It wasn’t anger. It was excitement. Master hang the whip back on the wall. He dragged… an arm chair to the center of the room, before letting him off the hook and onto it. A chair that belonged to the dinner set upstairs, he recognized it. Young Master must have brought it to the basement before going to pick him up.

He dry swallowed, wondering how much thought had been put into this punishment.

“Now, stay still for me, will you?”

He made his best to, only slightly shivering as the handcuffs were removed and replaced by rope, so tight it dug into his skin. There was no room to move, except for his head. He let the hair fall over his face, trying to hide… But that prompted Master to pull his head back.

“Smile for the camera dear…” Camera? Was there one? He didn’t knew and it didn’t matter, really. Master pulled his hair, dragging his neck backwards so much it hurt. He whimpered, but didn’t resist. He wanted to be good. He deserved this.

He deserved this. It would help him. It would make him better.

He didn’t like pain if it wasn’t to make him better, to correct his mistakes… But this one was. It was pain he deserved. He needed to be grateful.

He swallowed hard, and tried to be grateful.

But it was too scary, and now he couldn’t really see, as tears and panic where clouding his vision. So when Master approached again, he wasn’t very sure what was he was holding. A gentle touch over his hand caught him off guard. He almost relaxed a bit as Young Master rubbed gentle circles on his hand… And then excruciating pain.

…He passed out.

…A second, equally terrifying pain brought him back to reality a few seconds later.

“Don’t you go passing out on me, darling. You know how angry that makes me”

Dizzy… Hurting. Hurting so much it made the lashes on his back seem like nothing. Trembling, he looked down, the world swirling around him, almost incomprehensible… Red.

Young Master lifted something to his field of vision. A pair of bloodied fingernails. His… His fingernails.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t breath-

Master took the pliers to the next one. He wanted to beg, he tried to lean forward… He finally screamed.

Blood. Red. Pain. No air. No air no air no air. Red. Pain.

“please”

A slap. He doesn’t care, it feels like nothing compared to what just happened. His eyes are wide, teary and shocked.

“Ah-a. No begging yet. I haven’t allowed it.”

“Mercy. P—lease. Mercy? I-it will-”

Another slap, and his head was pulled backwards. Young Master runs his thumb over his face, cleaning tears and sweat while the other hand is firmly tugging his hair.

“Now now, you crossed every single limit yesterday, dear little bird. You disrespected me. And I’ll make sure you never dare to do it again”

He lets his head go, taking some time to admire his pet’s face. He moves to the next nail, an almost childlike smile.

He is fully aware this time. No shock and no adrenaline rush to coat a bit of the pain. No feelings of being lost, just the pain of flesh tearing. He feels sick. He can’t choke his screams anymore, not when they are being pulled, exposing the tender, bloodied skin underneath. Master praises him, but it’s mocking. It doesn’t really matter; his voice is distant behind a wall of pain.

Time seems to slow down. All he has now is agony, his body trembling, pulling hard against the ropes.

“Last one now, baby” Master says “Then we move to your little feet.”

…A strangled whimper is all he can manage. At some point, his bladder gives out, much to Master’s amusement. He is mocked for it but can barely understand the words.

He stares into nothing, wide eyed, as the minutes drag themselves. Everything is red. Everything is pain. Everything is blood.

And at some point a hand… full of bloodied nails is placed in front of his eyes. He has no strength to react… No voice to scream anymore. He stares, wide blue eyes, drenched in sweat and tears, shaking so much his teeth clank.

“I should start collecting those” Master says… returning to the table. Sounds of metal. He shivers, trying so hard to just… breathe. It’s not over yet? What is it going to be now? How will he survive?

He can’t breathe, he feels like he will die, he wishes he would die.

Master comes back without anything. He holds the pets chin, gently pulling the hair off his face, using his sleeves to clean the tears, sweat and snot. He smiles.

“This was… very fun. You look so pretty now little bird. I think I can finally understand why father thinks you are beautiful” he laughs “…Now you think you have learned your lesson?”

He needs a moment to realize he has to… to answer.

“y-ye-s I-“ he sobs “P-please I, I … It will neve-r, nev-er, i-it it is… Mas-master, p-pleas-“

Master places a hand over his lips, shushing him. He tried to lean closer to Master, but is held back by the ropes. The burn they cause seems so minor in comparison to the sheer agony right now, he barely notices.

“There there, pet” Master smiles “Just one more thing, and we will be done. “

He whimpers.

“N-no…m-more…no…” His voice is broken. He mouths please, over and over and over even if his voice has given out.

“Shush, don’t discuss with me now, bird. I need to make sure you know your place” He smiles, the pet follows him with his eyes, terrified to even blink “It will be quick.”

Master moves away. He has no strength to hold his head up when Master lets his chin, but looking down is bad, he sees the bloodied fingers. Thankfully there is nothing on his stomach to throw up. Red. Blood. Pain.

“Tell me little bird” Master appears back in his vision field “You’ll never run again, will you?”

…blazing iron, held so close to his face he can feel the heat.

“i-iit w-wil n-ev-er run f-from… mas-master…ple-ase” so, so hard to speak. So hard to breathe. Nothing in the whole world exists anymore. Just Master, burning iron, the bloodied fingers and the pain. “it-is is is yo—rs f-for-e-vv-ver. M-mer-mercy…”

He can’t anymore. Teeth clank as he shivers. His tears have stopped, even. Master smiles, contempt with the answer.

“Good boy. Now let’s make sure you don’t forget”

…He presses the iron against the sole of his feet. His vision goes black, and then covered with spots of red pain. And he feels cold. A terrible shiver runs down his spine, as the heat seems to be drained from his whole body, except that one, awful burn. The smell is nauseating.

It’s just a few seconds, but it feels like hours. It’s only removed to be placed on the other one.

Everything seems to fade again, and he wishes… He wishes he was dead.

It’s all… Red. Burning. Blood. Pain.

…Cold water on his lips brings him to tears again. He barely realizes as the ropes are cut off. Young Master is speaking a lot, but he can’t make sense of it.

He is lifted from the chair, scooped by Master’s arms. He wants to grab Master’s shirt, but the bloody fingers hurt too badly. He lets his body limp, his head resting over Master’s shoulder, and the world goes dark again.

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone

#i have to write a paper on vermins im sad #whump writing #oc whump #orfeu and haru #this so big me ded #Farlan B)#pet whump #nail whump tw #finger whump tw #urination tw

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chelsfic · 4 years ago

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Unseemly Desire - Chapter 2 - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic

For previous parts and more: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Nandor is shocked (SHOCKED!) that his plan to distance himself from Guillermo fails.

A/N: The scene at the end is directly inspired (with permission) by the brilliant fic Clean Slate by uv_duv

Warnings: Crack humor, Boat loads of ANGST, Attempted unwilling hypnosis, smut, inappropriate use of a Snuggie

---

A miasma of hurt, sadness, and anger stews around Guillermo over the next week. It settles into the drapery. It creeps into the cracks between the floorboards. It sinks into the moth-eaten fabric of the furniture. All the vampires, excepting Colin Robinson, are disturbed by the foul odor that gradually invades the household. For once, Nadja and Laszlo keep wisely silent, recognizing the fragile stability of both master and familiar. Colin quietly feeds from all of them, glowing with power in the remote solitude of his basement room.

Nandor boldly clings to his aloof facade. His slip up with Guillermo and the subsequent mind-wipe had...unnerved him. And, anyway, there is no reason why things should not go back to the way they were. He gave Guillermo what he wanted, didn’t he? And he even said he was sorry about the axe thing (although he worries that apologizing may have been beneath him). There’s no reason why Guillermo should be continuing to stink up the house with his annoying feelings.

For the first few days, Nandor spends his time devising increasingly menial chores to keep his familiar busy and--most importantly--away from him. This point is key because, lately, whenever Nandor is near his familiar he’s assaulted by disturbing memories. Like the feel of the human’s warm, soft body pressed against his aching arousal. Or the way Guillermo’s frightened breath clouded so prettily in the night air before Nandor launched an axe at his head. Or how his eyes sparkled behind his spectacles when Nandor told him he was special. It’s all highly distracting!

This strategy has the added bonus of reestablishing Guillermo’s role as a servant and not some kind of...illicit...immoral...stomach butterflying...something else! The plan is going great and the house has never looked better. The mouse poops in the cellar have all been swept up. The gutters are clear. Nadja and Laszlo’s sex toy collection has finally been hygienically cleaned. But an unforeseen problem occurs to Nandor on about the third night of Guillermo’s new, stringent routine.

---

Guillermo stands beside the heavy, wooden coffin, ready to assist his master when he rises for the evening like always. Dutiful. Loyal. Devoted.

Pathetic.

He sways on his feet and his eyelids drop closed for an instant before he jerks back to attention. Ever since the night of the axe throwing contest--no, ever since the feeding, Nandor has been even more difficult and demanding than usual. And maybe Guillermo could deal with it better if he didn’t have echoes of the vampire’s careless words ringing in his ears. Disgusting...unnatural… He’d known that his little crush was doomed from the start. But to hear Nandor refer to him as so decidedly beneath his dignity was a fatal blow to his fragile self-delusion. It’s been years since Guillermo resigned himself to Nandor’s perpetual procrastination in making him a vampire. He’d stayed on because...why? Because he cared for Nandor. Because every once in awhile Nandor would do something to reveal that he cared back. But now? What’s the point?

The coffin creaks open and Nandor sits up looking unfairly handsome. His hair should at least be mussed from sleeping all day, but no, it’s smooth and gorgeous as ever and Guillermo feels a spike of anger just looking at his stupid, beautiful master. Nandor stands, wordlessly holding out his hand without even making eye contact. A long moment passes and Guillermo remains stubbornly still, staring at a spot on Nandor’s chest where, he supposes, his dead, unfeeling heart must be.

Finally, Nandor whines with a frown, “Guillermo? What is this? You’re my familiar for years, suddenly I make your wildest fantasy come true and you think you don’t have to help me out of my coffin anymore? Is this the new you?”

Guillermo breathes in and out, his eyes hardening to dark diamond points before he looks up and meets Nandor’s petulant gaze.

“I didn’t think you’d want to touch my...disgusting human hand,” he bites the words out with something close to a growl and Nandor startles, curling his fingers inward as he withdraws his hand.

“Have you washed since you cleaned the mouse poops, Guillermo?” he curls his lips back in revulsion.

Guillermo’s voice drips with barely contained frustration as he snaps, “Yes, of course!”

Nandor shrugs, laying his hand over the top of his familiar’s head for balance as he steps out of the coffin.

“There’s no need for that insolent tone. Do you want to get another demerit?”

Guillermo could scream.

---

What the shit was that all about? Not only is his familiar stinking up the house with his human emotional funk, now he’s being disrespectful?

Nandor stalks down to the cell for a quick snack, tearing into a crying man’s jugular as he ponders the problem with Guillermo. He goes through all that effort, with the music and the smelling-things, to give the guy a nice little bite on the neck and what does he get? Nothing but accusations from his roommates and not a shred of gratitude from his familiar. The little guy isn’t even appreciating all the work he went through coming up with creative chores to remind him how valuable he is as a servant!

He probably wouldn’t care so much if it weren’t for the very confusing way his body responds to Guillermo’s bad mood. He keeps feeling this ache in his belly no matter how much blood he drinks. And his heart squeezes in his chest thinking about the sad little frown on Guillermo’s lips. This symptom is very alarming since his heart isn’t supposed to be doing that. He wants to make his familiar smile at him again like he did when he’d pressed his nose into the flowers he’d got for him.

Thinking about that night, as the victim’s blood pools on his tongue, there are other things he wants, too. He wants to hear Guillermo making those little passionate, mewls as his fangs tear into his throat. He wants Guillermo’s hands to thread through his hair again. Wants to go back and dare himself to explore his familiar’s body, to see if he was as physically affected by the feeding as Nandor was.

Fuck! This isn’t helping! He drops the dead human onto the floor of the cell with a frustrated growl, stalking off and leaving a trail of sad, frustrated, horny vampire scent behind him.

He finds Guillermo without realizing that was his intent. The familiar is reaching up on his tiptoes to dust the ornaments and photographs arranged on the mantle in the library. Nandor floats into the room as a vapor, hanging suspended in the air and watching as Guillermo sinks back on his heels, leaning his forehead on the smooth, polished wood of the mantle and barely suppressing a yawn as his eyes drift closed. Guillermo’s breathing starts to steady out and he falls asleep while standing. Nandor feels that annoying heart-squeeze thing even in his vapor form! Normally he would not tolerate his familiar falling asleep on the job, but he notes the dark circles beneath Guillermo’s eyes and the look of strain on his face even as he sleeps. Perhaps...perhaps increasing his work load has been the wrong move?

Nandor transforms, coming to stand beside Guillermo and placing one large hand on his sweater-clad shoulder. Guillermo jumps awake at once, the feather duster flying from his hand and clattering to the floor in his surprise.

“I--I’m sorry, master. I was just resting my eyes,” Guillermo squeaks, hurriedly stooping to pick up the duster.

Nandor stands there regarding his familiar in silence for a moment. The bruise on his throat has started to fade, just as he promised it would. But it is still an obvious marring of light purple and sickly yellow. Nandor’s lips part as he stares down at the marks made by his own fangs. Words drift through his mind. Things he might say. Guillermo, you seem tired. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you… You looked so adorable in your sleep, I wanted to bite your face off… Why don’t I bite the other side of your neck to make a pretty matching bruise…

“Master?”

Nandor clears his throat and gestures to the mess of blood coating his mouth and beard, “Could you help me with this?”

“Of course,” Guillermo mutters, setting aside his hurt and secretly thrilling at the chance to perform one of his favorite familiar duties.

---

Guillermo holds the damp washcloth aloft in front of Nandor’s face and reaches out to cup his jaw, gently tilting his head back so that he can set to work cleaning away the blood. They’re in the downstairs bathroom. Nandor sits on the toilet with Guillermo standing between his knees, leaning forward with a look of concentration as he gently dabs away the mess.

Nandor sighs with pleasure and murmurs, “That’s very nice, Guillermo. You always get the water just the right temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.”

Guillermo feels his face flush with his master’s praise even as he reminds himself that the words are empty and placating. He’s been surviving on scraps long enough to know to take what he can get.

“Thank you, master,” he replies, smothering another yawn. His eyes are transfixed, watching the towel stroke back and forth over Nandor’s lush, full lips. He almost hates to see the blood coming away as he works, because Nandor’s blood stained mouth is like a snapshot straight out of his deepest fantasies. Fuck! How pitiful is it that he’s still thinking this way after everything his master said the other night?

Nandor is oblivious to his familiar’s internal struggle, but he notes the yawn with a dismayed frown.

“I’ve been…” he chokes on the words but forces them out, “working you a little hard these last few nights, Guillermo. You are tired. Why don’t you take a nice rest after this?”

He smiles up at his familiar, feeling that inexplicable swell of happiness that always accompanies a kindness shown to the soft, little human. What has happened to him? He used to be the stuff of nightmares and now he is getting his kicks being nice to a mortal?

If Nandor’s heart hadn’t stopped beating centuries ago then it would surely stop now at the sight of the grateful smile slowly spreading over Guillermo’s lips.

“That would be...really nice. Thank you, master,” Guillermo replies, starting in on cleansing Nandor’s beard with the smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth. Nandor can’t keep his eyes from that mouth and the happy feeling is still swirling around in his chest and he wonders if he can maybe make his familiar smile even more…

“Maybe we could...we could watch that movie you’re always harping on about. The Vampire Interview,” Nandor suggests. He waits for a reaction and is rewarded for his effort when his familiar’s face lights up with an incandescent grin.

“Interview with the Vampire!? Really? You want to watch it...together?” Guillermo sounds both hopeful and doubtful and it tugs at Nandor’s dead heart.

“Yes, as I said,” Nandor answers. And, because he needs to assert some control over this confusing situation, he adds, “I will watch the Interview with the Vampire with you. I need to supervise and make sure that you are resting properly so that you can get back to your duties tomorrow…”

---

About a year earlier all the vampires in the house went through a Home Shopping Network phase. The front stoop was piled daily with boxes of all shapes and sizes containing everything from porcelain dolls for Nadja to a Bedazzler for Nandor and Shake Weights for Laszlo (who assumed they were intended for erotic use). Even Colin Robinson got in on the craze, ordering those products he estimated would be most likely to result in class action litigation. Eventually Guillermo had to put his foot down, sitting everyone down in the library and painstakingly explaining the importance of good credit, financial literacy and the fact that the vampires actually had bills to pay. Everyone pouted for a few days but no one so much as Nandor.

Because Nandor had recently discovered the holy grail, so to speak, of As Seen On TV products: the Snuggie. And he had a powerful need. But no amount of whining, cajoling or lashing out would convince Guillermo to relinquish his hold on the vampire’s credit card.

“It’s for your own good, master! Please!” Guillermo finally begged after Nandor’s thousandth plaintive glare.

“But it’s a blanket...for snuggling, Guillermo! I need it!” Nandor whined, stomping his foot.

Guillermo shook his head, “That’s not really...never mind. Who are you planning on snuggling with, anyway?”

Nandor paused in his tantrum, darting his eyes around and looking everywhere but at his familiar. If he could have, he would have been blushing.

“No one you know!” Nandor insisted, his voice a little too loud. “A vampire. A really cool...really hot vampire that I know…”

He was the bane of Guillermo’s existence for weeks, holding onto the idea of the Snuggie with uncharacteristic tenacity. One night, while Guillermo was doing some shopping for himself, he stumbled across a display of the damn things in CVS. He couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes as he stuffed it into his cart.

Nandor was happy with the gift for a few minutes until he got it out of the box and Guillermo instructed him on how to put it on.

“But...there’s no room for the other person! How am I supposed to snuggle in this...chastity bag?!”

Guillermo hasn’t seen the Snuggie since.

---

“I made popped corn!” Nandor announces in a sing-song as he ducks into the closet-room beneath the stairs. He holds out a bowl full of blackened, burned kernels with a proud smile, “Colin Robinson helped me.”

“I bet he did,” Guillermo mutters under his breath before forcing a bright, pleased smile onto his face, “Wow, master! Thank you!”

Guillermo takes the bowl and sets it on the rickety stool that serves as his nightstand. He’s sitting a little rigidly on the bed with his laptop propped on his knees. He scoots in toward the wall and pats the threadbare blanket beside him, “D-do you want to sit? I’m sorry there’s not more space, we could go in the fancy room--”

“No,” Nandor interrupts with a wave of his hand. “This is...fine. More restful for you.”

And less of a chance that one of the other roommates will interrupt and they’ll end up in another axe throwing situation.

Nandor sits down gingerly on the bed, slotting his long legs beside Guillermo’s shorter ones and awkwardly fidgeting with a fuzzy bundle in his lap.

“What’s that, master?” Guillermo asks, tapping the keys on his laptop as he brings up the movie.

“Oh, this?” Nandor attempts nonchalance as he shakes out the fabric. “It is my Snuggie. I thought that...maybe it might help with your sleepiness problem. Get you nice and comfy cozy for the movie.”

He tosses the blanket-garment at Guillermo and stares down at his hands, fiddling with his rings as he listens to his familiar’s heart skip a beat. Nandor’s lips twitch. How he enjoys that fluttery little sound.

Guillermo gently spreads the Snuggie over himself, ignoring the ridiculous sleeves and using it as a regular blanket. He’s feeling a lot of things right now. Happiness that this impossibly cute scenario is actually playing out, like a manifestation of his most tame Nandor-related dreams. Wariness, because Nandor has been extra shitty lately and he never knows when one of his magnanimous moods will swing in the other direction. And, mostly, confusion.

He shakes his head and tries to go with the flow, “Thanks, master. Very cozy. You ready to start the movie?”

The vampire nods and Guillermo presses play, feeling that mix of anticipation and fear that comes with sharing a favorite movie with someone who’s never seen it. He squirms a bit, jostling the laptop as he gets comfortable under the blanket. Nandor remains statue-like beside him, his lips pulled back in an uncomfortable smile as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen and tries to ignore his delicious familiar and the way his soft, warm body is pressed against his side in the tiny bed.

“So you want me to tell you the story of my life?” Guillermo mouths the words as Brad Pitt speaks, falling into the cinematic magic and letting go of his nerves as the movie starts playing. Even Nandor gets into it, whooping when Louis frightens Daniel with his vampiric speed.

“That’s always a fun trick to play on mortals, Guillermo! They totally freak out!” Nandor laughs.

As the film goes on Guillermo notices that Nandor is starting to fidget. He’s lightly stroking the fleece fabric of the Snuggie with a look of poorly concealed longing. Guillermo watches from the corner of his eye and wonders to himself. Hadn’t he originally though it was meant for two people? Did he want…?

Guillermo clears his throat and goes for it. What the hell. This has been a week of revelations already.

“Are you cold, master? There’s room under the Snuggie,” Guillermo casually suggests, lifting the end toward Nandor invitingly.

Nandor darts a look at the closed curtain that acts as Guillermo’s door, as if he’s worried Laszlo or Nadja is about to jump out from behind it and cry, “Gotcha!”

“It is a little nippy in here…” Nandor trails off, hesitating for another beat before taking the edge of the blanket and pulling it over him. It’s more than large enough to fit over both of them comfortably.

Nandor smiles with glee and slips his arm through the draping sleeve on his side, “Guillermo! Put your arm in the sleeve.”

Guillermo smiles in bemusement and does as he’s told, pushing the fabric up to free his hand and looking over at Nandor expectantly.

“Look at us, Guillermo!” Nandor grins. “We look like one of those poor wretches in the human freak show.”

Guillermo’s smile falters and he knits his brows in confusion for a second, “You mean...conjoined twins?”

“Yes!” Nandor laughs. “We are like the rejoined twins.”

Guillermo giggles. He’s feeling almost lightheaded with how...nice this is. He turns back to the screen, shifting down the mattress a bit and ever so slightly leaning into his master’s solid bulk. Nandor looks down at the top of Guillermo’s head, admiring the curly waves of hair pressed against his shoulder. He decides to allow it. For the sake of Guillermo’s rest, of course.

Now that the Snuggie covers them and Guillermo’s attention is fixed on the movie, Nandor lets himself relax. He loosens the set of his shoulders and his legs splay out more naturally beneath the folds of fleece. He lets his left hand, the one thankfully concealed by the blanket, fall to his side, the back of his hand brushing Guillermo’s. The human’s hand twitches in response and he feels his familiar’s fingers reach out experimentally, grazing over Nandor’s knuckles.

Nandor releases a soft, startled breath and he turns his wrist, capturing the soft little hand in his own and entwining their fingers in the safe, forgiving darkness beneath the blanket. Both men keep their eyes glued to the laptop without truly seeing anything playing on the screen. Nandor thinks this will be okay as long as neither of them acknowledges what’s happening. Guillermo’s heart is in his throat. He’s elated and also petrified to do anything to break the spell of the moment. He feels like a teenager holding hands for the first time in a darkened movie theater.

Nandor’s palm is cool against his warm skin and his hand is absolutely giant, completely engulfing Guillermo’s smaller one. It’s Nandor who finally breaks the fragile tension, squeezing Guillermo’s hand so, so carefully. He’s mindful, as he always is when he touches his human, of how easy it would be to slip and break something, accidentally turning Guillermo’s perfect little hand into a fistful of pulp and bones. Guillermo squeezes back and slides their palms together in a soft caress. Nandor can’t see his face from this angle, but he thinks he sees the tell-tale dimple in Guillermo’s cheek that means he’s smiling. Again that strange, overwhelming joy in his chest. He wants to make Guillermo happy like this always. But...how?

Guillermo nuzzles his face into Nandor’s shoulder and the vampire lets out an involuntary purr that rumbles through his chest. Guillermo squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into the fabric of Nandor’s sleeve and giving up all pretense of watching the movie. He breathes in his master’s scent, cold and earthy with hints of argan oil and lavender. His chest hitches with each breath as he works up the nerve to do what he wants to do. Nandor’s words from the garden float back to him. He’d curled his lip at Guillermo. He’d practically spit at the very idea of touching him. But here he is in bed with him, with their fingers twined together like young lovers, with Guillermo clinging to his side for dear life and he’s not shrinking away or scolding him. He’s responding…

Guillermo opens his eyes and peeks up at his master. Nandor stares down at him with an unreadable expression in his bottomless dark eyes. If he doesn’t at least try this now then he never will. Guillermo parts his lips, flicking his gaze down to Nandor’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. He sits up, bringing their faces so close he can feel Nandor’s cool breath on his lips. Nandor hasn’t moved, his face is still unreadable. Guillermo’s brows draw together in a silent, pleading question and then he leans in, dragging out the movement so that Nandor will have every opportunity to pull away if that’s what he wants. But he doesn’t.

Their lips touch in the briefest, softest kiss. Guillermo pulls back almost at once, his breath stuttering in his throat and his lips tingling. He looks up at Nandor with frantic, desperate hope.

“Is this…?” he starts to ask but Nandor presses his fingers to his lips to stop the words before they can ruin everything.

“Don’t. Speak,” he commands.

Guillermo nods, his eyes going wide and plaintive as Nandor’s fingers fall away. For a moment they are immobile. Neither one of them is capable of bridging the gap between them nor of pulling away. Nandor’s breath may be nothing more than muscle memory, but it is ragged and torn from his throat as he contemplates the damage done to his great, wise plan by the merest touch of a hand and a kiss from this dear, precious human.

Then Nandor falls forward, knocking the laptop off of Guillermo’s legs and covering his familiar’s body with his own as he latches onto his mouth. He sucks Guillermo’s lower lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the plump flesh and nibbling carefully. Guillermo moans and Nandor reaches up and wraps his hand around the human’s throat, squeezing softly in warning. Guillermo mutters under his breath, sorrysorrysorry.

Nandor’s hand moves from Guillermo’s neck and instead cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over the cheekbone before burying his hand into the soft curls at the back of his neck as he plunges his tongue into Guillermo’s mouth. He plunders, conquers and pillages his human. And why not? Why should Nandor the Relentless, conqueror of thousands, who once boasted a harem of 37 wives and hundreds of concubines, be afraid of claiming one, silly human for his own pleasure? Why should he worry what others will think when he could be enjoying the sweet, hot feeling of his familiar’s mouth every night? Why deny himself? Why worry about Guillermo’s constant, complicated and exhausting human emotions? He belongs to Nandor not the other way around.

Nandor is riding high on these realizations and he lets himself give in, letting go of his control more than he’s ever allowed himself to in Guillermo’s presence. He presses his body down more firmly against Guillermo’s and he hisses in pleasure when he discovers his familiar’s rigid erection pressing into his thigh. Yes. Yes. He can have this if he wants it. He can have this and he can have Guillermo as his faithful, obedient slave. He can--

Guillermo whines with need as Nandor rolls his thigh against his aching arousal. This is everything he’s ever wanted from the vampire and more than he’d ever dreamed of receiving. He wraps his hands around his master’s shoulders, tugging on his luscious mane of hair and thrusting upwards to increase the friction on his crotch. Guillermo’s single, disappointing high school handjob is the extent of his sexual experience and he’s absolutely overwhelmed. Nandor is everything...he’s never felt so--

“I...ngggh...fucking love you, Nandor,” Guillermo cries as he comes in his pants, falling back into his single, sad pillow with a broken whimper.

Nandor hovers over his spent familiar, staring down at him with a shell-shocked expression in his eyes. It takes a moment for Guillermo to register the words that fell from his lips only seconds ago and then he’s sputtering, eyes wide and trying to take it back.

“I didn’t--I mean, I don’t...I…” he can’t say it. He can’t lie about this, not now that the words are out there. He looks up at Nandor and his heart sinks as he watches his master’s face smooth over into an impenetrable mask. “Please don’t, master.”

Don’t retreat from this. Don’t go back to pretending. Don’t reject me now that you’ve cracked open my rib cage to reveal the beating-heart truth of my feelings. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

Nandor shakes his head minutely and brings his hand up to smooth down an errant lock of Guillermo’s hair. It feels like a block of ice has settled in the vampire’s stomach. He’d thought he could have this but Guillermo had gone and ruined it. He’s silent for a moment, tracing the lines of Guillermo’s face with his eyes as if he’s burning this moment into his memory. A single tear leaks from the corner of his familiar’s eye and Nandor wipes it away before it can fall into his hairline. He sighs.

“Guillermo…” he leans back a bit, looking sad but resolute, “I...I shouldn’t have let this happen. And you! You disobeyed me. I asked you not to speak. Why couldn’t you obey me, Guillermo?”

The question comes out choked and angry and Guillermo can only shake his head and mutter, “I’m sorry, master…”

Nandor shakes himself, taking control of these unwieldy emotions and answering with an approximation of calm, “It’s alright, Guillermo. I...I won’t let you remember this.”

He brings his hand up between them and holds it before Guillermo’s face. The human blanches, struggling pointlessly to get out from under Nandor’s solid weight. But Nandor presses down, pinning him against the mattress as Guillermo starts to cry.

“No, master, please!” he screws his eyes shut, turning his face away in an attempt to block Nandor’s hypnotic power. “Please don’t do this to me, Nandor. Please let me...let me keep this. We can never talk about it again. I’ll go back to how it was before. I’ll be your familiar and I’ll never ever leave you, please. Just...don’t…”

Guillermo’s voice breaks and he sobs, burying his face into Nandor’s chest and clutching his hands in the heavy fabric of his vest. Nandor has never felt worse. The lingering taste of Guillermo’s kiss on his lips turns to ash. How has he managed to ruin everything again!? He’d nearly succeeded building up the strict walls between them, knocking Guillermo back down to his rightful place. But then he’d let his stupid addiction to making the human happy cloud his judgement and now he’s made Guillermo more miserable than ever!

“It will be better if you don’t remember, Guillermo,” Nandor whispers, bringing his hands up to cradle the back of his familiar’s head. “Less painful.”

“Why?” the word is muffled. Guillermo speaks into his chest, too afraid to pull away and risk being hypnotized.

Nandor strokes his fingers through the dark curls and answers, “Because this cannot be...between us. It’s--”

“Disgusting? Unnatural?” Guillermo prompts angrily.

Nandor sighs, “You’re not...disgusting to me, Guillermo. I should not have used that word.”

“Then what!?” Guillermo asks and he pulls back to glare into Nandor’s eyes, forgetting the danger in his fury.

“It...simply cannot be…” he brings his hand up between them once more and Guillermo stays frozen in place, tears spilling down his cheeks and his lips quivering.

“Don’t,” he pleads one more time and Nandor’s heart does the squeezy thing again. Are human emotions contagious?

His hand drops and Nandor turns away, baring his fangs in a furious hiss. He stands up abruptly, awkwardly disentangling himself from the Snuggie and throwing it down onto the bed. He straightens his clothing, determinedly looking away from his familiar as he speaks, “You really should turn that silly movie off and go to sleep, Guillermo. There’s still many chores left for you to complete tomorrow…”

With that Nandor flees the cramped room under the stairs, almost running down the hallway to his crypt as things that are definitely not tears sting at his eyes.

#guillermo x nandor #nandor x guillermo #nandermo #nandermo fanfic #guillermo x nandor fanfic #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

Text

As Above, So Below Ch. 22

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3165

A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me. I’ve been working on this chapter for a couple of weeks now, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations (yes, there’s smut). Feedback is always appreciated, and I would love if you liked, commented, and reblogged if you enjoyed this.

Although the news that the golden apple that will grant you immortality is on its way to the Underworld should cause you to hurry back home, you and Michael take your time in gathering your belongings. Cassius had left just as quickly as he arrived, the demon having nothing more to do than to serve his master. After fulfilling his duty of telling Michael the news, he had no reason to remain Above. Michael’s right hand preternatural being had given you both an odd look upon your lack of haste, but wisely chose to remain silent on his opinion of the matter.

“Are you nervous?” Michael asks, watching as you fold the picnic blanket up before deciding that it’s not even and starting again.

“No, not nervous.” You’re certain that you’re not nervous. The ball of nerves that settles in the pit of your stomach and refuses to go away is nowhere to be found.

Michael tilts his head, examining you as you pack away the rest of the supplies and carefully shut the basket. “You’re scared.”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at him. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Why would I ever make fun of you?”

“I don’t know, because it’s dumb to be scared in the first place?”

“My love, nothing you could ever say, do, or feel is dumb.”

“Not even when I ran away and nearly got eaten by that monster?”

Michael rolls his eyes at the reference of your first night dining with him. “Okay, I amend my previous statement. Nothing that you could ever say or feel is dumb. Some of the situations you get yourself into, however…”

“Okay, I get it! I do dumb stuff.”

Michael chuckles, gently removing your hands from the basket that you’re about to pick up and wrapping his arms around you. “Why are you scared? You know that there’s nothing to be scared of, right?”

“I worry that I’m going to end up rambling if I start to list the reasons why.”

“Ramble away.”

That’s all the encouragement you need, your fears spilling out of you like your mouth’s a broken dam. “Just...what if it doesn’t work? Or what if I die in the process? What if I eat the apple and you decide that you don’t love me anymore? That I’m not the girl in your prophecy? What if it does work, but immortality makes me a completely different person?”

Michael frowns as you brokenly finish listing your worries, eyes shining with tears when you look up at him. He had known that this was weighing on your mind, but not this heavily. “Hey, please don’t cry. It makes my heart ache to see you cry.”

“I’m sorry--”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Pulling you into his lap, he strokes a hand through your hair as he holds you to him. “I wish that there was some sort of precedence for me to draw on that would help to rid you of your fears. All that I know is that Violet would not have agreed to this unless she was absolutely certain that no harm would come to you. As for your fear of me not loving you anymore, I can assure you that that is impossible.”

He looks at you with a tenderness that would shock anybody who knew Michael as the God of the Dead. All that he wants is to make sure that you’re okay, even if that means shedding his stoic persona in order to reassure you. When you finally nod, wiping the tears from under your eyes, Michael slowly smiles.

“I hope that made you feel at least a little better?” Michael asks.

“It did. I’m still scared, but I’ll be okay as long as you’re next to me.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t leave your side unless I was forcibly dragged away from you.”

“I love you,” you mutter into his shoulder. Regardless of the barrier, Michael hears your words loud and clear.

“Not as much as I love you.” Pulling you up with him, Michael runs a hand across your cheek and assesses you. “Are you ready?”

“No, but we’re doing this regardless.”

“That’s the spirit.” Before you can protest, Michael throws you a wink and transmutes with you back to the Murder House.

Your jump with Michael into the Hellmouth is much more willing than the last time you made this journey with him, neither of you wasting any time before stepping off the ledge and falling through dimensions. He lands gracefully, although everything that your fiancé (it’s going to take a bit to get used to being engaged to this literal god of a man) does is graceful. You, however, have to grab Michael’s arm to keep from stumbling to your knees upon landing. He bites his lip to keep from laughing, dutifully making sure you don’t fall over.

“I hope clumsiness is something that I lose in immortality,” you mutter as you straighten yourself up again.

“I don’t.” You look at Michael questioningly, and he elaborates. “I love how you trip and stumble. It’s...cute, and very uniquely you.”

You stare at the ground to avoid Michael seeing the bashful expression on your face, waiting for Michael to give the guards the signals to open the doors to the Great Hall. He chuckles beside you, amused at your silence, but nods at his servants and leads you into the room.

The dark shades of red and black that decorate the room makes it difficult to fully light up the room, which is probably why the Inferno that Dante had so famously written about is conveniently located on the other side of the room. The flames provide more light than 30 bright overhead lights, but still cast ghoulish shadows on the walls. Somehow you’ve managed to get used to seeing the entrance to the nine circles of hell whenever you need to visit Michael officially, but you don’t think you’ll get used to the screams the echo from the pit and the ever-present smell of brimstone that permeates the air.

A woman with coiffed blonde hair stands at the foot of Michael’s throne, her pastel Easter dress a stark contrast to the doom-and-gloom of the Underworld. She holds a cigarette in her grip, the paper stained with the pink color that’s painted on her lips. As you and Michael ascend the steps to his throne, she appraises you both with a cool gaze.

“Lord Hades,” she greets, curtseying to the man now sitting on his obsidian throne.

“Hermes.” You’re only mildly surprised to learn that Hermes is not a man, as has been depicted for centuries. If this was the information you were learning prior to meeting Michael, you would be freaking out right now. “As always, you are welcome in my realm.”

She smiles at him, the conventions that the gods and goddesses must engage in upon meeting melting away. “I bring a gift, although I’m sure that you are already aware of that.”

“Thank you for being so prompt with this matter.” Michael looks up at you and takes your hand, meaning for you to step forward. “I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to meet my beloved. (Y/N), this is Billie Dean, god of border crossings and guide to the Underworld, among many other patronages.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say softly, shaking her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine. After all,” she casts a wry glance towards Michael, “we’ve only heard stories of what the Fates had told Michael about you for centuries.”

“I hope I live up to those stories, then.”

Billie Dean smiles at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “You’ve already surpassed them, my dear.”

Your cheeks heat up as the two mythical beings get back to business, Billie Dean producing a small package from the bag on her hip.

“That’s it, then?” Michael asks, staring at the box.

“Violet requested that I transport the apple as inconspicuous as possible. This was the best I could come up with.”

“You’ve done well.”

“And with that, my work here is done.” Billie Dean nods to both of you, backing away so she can transmute without any collateral damage. “I assume I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, (Y/N). I look forward to it.”

With that, she’s gone, and you look at Michael as you process the whirlwind interaction with a woman who manages to embody the American South. “Wow, she’s…”

“She’s definitely a character,” Michael agrees.

“Why has she always been portrayed as a man?”

Michael gives you a look that says you already know the answer. “Surely a woman would not be able to lead others, even if it’s just to the Underworld.”

The sarcasm is evident, and you roll your eyes. “Thousands of thousands of years of sexism, all wrapped up into one goddess.”

“Discouraging, isn’t it?”

“So she’s the only being who can come and go from the Underworld as she pleases?”

“Besides me, yes. Otherwise, it becomes impossible to find. Many have tried and failed to find a way into the Underworld, but the magic that surrounds this realm means that the mortal plane’s entrance seems to always be moving and changing.”

You nod, already appraising the box with a calculating eye. “Should we...open the package?”

“In my chambers. That will give us more privacy.”

It doesn’t even register that Michael’s standing and leading you to his rooms, your attention so focused on the literal life-changing fruit that’s contained without its small cardboard home. As he closes the bedroom door behind you, you realize that you’re no longer scared. Indeed, you only feel fascination, a determination to get your hands on the legendary apple and see just what’s made so many of Ancient Greece’s heroes lose their lives in the process of earning.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen one before,” Michael says as he sets the package down on the bed.

“Seriously?”

“After what happened with Heracles, she nearly burnt the orchard down. She thought nobody was worthy of earning the gift of immortality.”

“What convinced her not to go through with it?”

“The thought of forsaking such a powerful and rare gift directly contradicts everything she stands for.”

“No offense, but if I were her and my husband, who had cheated on me, told me to grant his son immortality, I’d burn the tree to the ground.”

Michael grins, pulling you onto him as he sits on the bed. “And that’s why you’re my perfect match. I’m not interested in people who would savor the fruit of that tree. I look for people who would cut down the fucking tree and use it for firewood.”

The dark look in his eyes makes arousal pool in the bottom of your stomach, and you hungrily kiss Michael as a result. He’s more than happy to reciprocate, but pulls away far too soon for your liking. You want to complain, but his pointed look reminds you of what needs to be done.

A flick of Michael’s wrist has the sides of the box falling open, revealing the prize hidden inside. For all intents and purposes, the apple looks like a normal apple. Besides, of course, the fact that it appears to be solid gold. The light of the chandelier reflecting off of the surface confirms that it is what Violet described it to be, and you can feel the intoxicating call of immortality wafting off of the fruit. Michael holds the apple up to you, and you take it from him wordlessly. What is there to say when your entire life is about to change with a single bite?

“I’m right here next to you the entire time,” Michael says, grasping your free hand tightly.

Taking a deep breath, you lock eyes with Michael as you bring the fruit up to your mouth and pierce your teeth through the skin. It’s sweeter than any normal apple that you’ve had before, and you savor the taste as you take another cautious bite. Violet didn’t say how much or how little to eat, so you figure that means to just eat until something happens.

You let out a gasp when your heart starts to speed up, body going limp as you fall back against the mattress. Although your eyes are open and appear to be staring at the ceiling, your vision whites out and stars flash in front of your eyes. Liquid gold runs through your veins, the warmth coursing through your body sending you into a euphoric state.

Michael watches you intently, studying you to make sure that nothing bad will happen to you. He doesn’t see any physical changes, which doesn’t surprise him. However, he can feel the changes that are happening. The air seems to spark around you, like you’re a live wire ready to electrocute whoever may touch you. It’s almost like he can see the change occurring inside your very cells, fortifying themselves in the eternal youth that eluded history’s greatest conquerors.

The ecstasy clouding all of your senses reaches a fever pitch, the sensory overload making it difficult for you to even feel Michael’s grip on your hand. Your heart beats at a pace to rival that of a jet engine, chest heaving as you try to remember to breathe. When the fog starts to clear, it happens sense by sense. First your thoughts, followed by your nerves and your hearing.

Michael can tell that you’ve fully completed the transition when the glaze over your eyes disappears. You blink rapidly, pupils dilated as you try to adjust. Everything’s the same, and yet nothing’s the same. Everything seems so much clearer, as if you’ve just had Lasik surgery. You’re marvelling at how the fabric of the bed feels against your skin when Michael’s chiseled face appears in your line of sight. You had been so enthralled with experiencing everything as if for the first time, that you had nearly forgotten who was sitting right next to you the entire time.

“(Y/N),” Michael whispers, and you could nearly cry at how heavenly your name sounds on his lips. “How are you feeling?”

Your lips part as you try to come up with the words to answer Michael’s question. Finally, after a long minute, you manage to breathe out a simple, “radiant.”

Michael smiles at you softly, which proves to be a surprising trigger for you. All of your emotions are running haywire, and each emotion that you feel is experienced on a level that you’ve never felt before. When Michael’s piercing blue eyes deftly analyze your face, an intense feeling of lust overcomes you.

You catch him off guard when you surge up to kiss him, a soft gasp escaping him as your lips meet his. Using the upper hand to your advantage, you hook your legs around Michael’s waist and flip your bodies over so you’re on top of him. He stares up at you, a delightfully bewildered look on his face.

“This is...new,” he comments, threading his hands through your hair.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never.”

Rolling your hips against his, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth upon feeling his bulge against your clothed core. Although you’re both used to Michael being in charge, the new position is a welcome change for Michael as well as you, if the sparks of arousal forming deep in your abdomen are anything to go by.

“You’re a tease,” Michael mutters as you kiss down his neck, sucking purple bruises onto his beautiful porcelain skin.

“Mm, I learned from the best.”

His hands loosen around your hips so that he can remove your shirt before returning to their designated spot, helping to guide your pace. You have no time for the tedious removal of the rest of your clothes, and a wave of your hand leaves you and Michael bare.

“Never the patient one, even in your newfound immortality,” Michael remarks.

You roll your eyes, kissing him harshly to shut him up. Michael lifts your hips, making sure you get the message as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slowly sink down on his cock, both of you groaning as he stretches out your walls. Wriggling your hips to get comfortable, Michael stares up at you with blown-out pupils, biting his lip while he waits for you to start moving.

You begin to slowly ride him, rolling your hips against his and delighting in how wrecked he already looks. Tossing your head back to rid yourself of the hair that’s fallen in your face, you lift yourself up until just the tip of Michael’s cock remains sheathed inside of you before sitting yourself back down. Michael’s hand moves up from your hip to caress your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers before wrapping his lithe fingers around your throat.

Shuddering in pleasure, you ignore the burn in your thighs as you begin to ride him faster. Michael’s eyes darken even more with lust as your own hands trail up to fondle your breasts, soft gasps escaping you as you tweak your nipples harshly. Beads of sweat begin to pool along your collarbone while you bounce on Michael’s cock, your walls fluttering around him as you begin to lose your rhythm.

“Are you close?” Michael coos, giving your neck a harsh squeeze. “Are you going to cum from riding me, my queen?”

“Yes, my king,” you gasp, grinning when Michael lets out a surprised moan.

“Fuck,” his hands grab your hips tightly again, beginning to harshly thrust up into you. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you tease, crying out when he hits your g-spot. “My king?”

Michael’s jaw goes slack, and you lean down to kiss along his jaw. “Yes.”

“You fill me so well, my king, better than anybody ever could.” The praise starts a fire within Michael, and he starts to rub his thumb against your clit as he works to bring you to orgasm. “Fuck, I love you. You’re an amazing king and you’ll be an even better husband, I-oh!”

You cum suddenly, hips stuttering to a stop as the pleasure that had been building in your abdomen explodes throughout your body. Michael’s eyes are alight as he watches you lose yourself to the pleasure that he brings you to. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he finally reaches his own, cock pulsing as he releases inside of you.

Michael pulls you to his chest, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. His bedroom is silent, the sheets a mess around you and the half-eaten apple lying discarded on the floor. You lock eyes with Michael before dissolving into giggles, the sound of your laugh leaving him no choice but to laugh too.

“Welcome to immortality,” Michael says against your bare skin as you nuzzle into his neck, more than satisfied with this welcome party.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines #AHS #ahs imagines #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon au #hades and persephone au

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demialwrites · 5 years ago

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Just Two Kids

Note: I really wanted more of Solomon/Dr. Roman, so here is something based on him not being erased from the Throne of Heroes and subsequently being summoned a servant. Also, I made up the idea that bonding to your Servant could be done by having sex with them.

Solomon tapped his black-painted fingernails on your bedroom furniture as he waited. Tap, tap, tap across your wooden desk. He wondered what you did here every day. Tap, tap, tap across a shelf on your tall bookcase. He wanted to crack open a book and read it. His steps led him to the closed doors of your closet and he stopped there. Looking at your clothes was too intimate and you might not appreciate that. Because he was a guest here. A guest here in this decade, actually. And you did not invite him, which made him wonder if he would be dismissed at any time. No, your parents had summoned him as a Caster servant for you. Solomon sighed and sat on your bed, before arranging his red, black, and white robes under his butt to avoid wrinkles. Maybe you would let him wear something more modern if you let him stay. Your voice rang distantly through the house as you argued with your parents. "Where are they?!" you suddenly screamed. That was anxiety-inducing. He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck beneath his long, white hair. Bringing his hand down, his hair got tangled between his fingers. He pulled them out, itching to put all of it up in a ponytail. Or a bigger braid or something. You threw open the door then slammed it shut behind you, angrily sighing. "Master!" he greeted you, standing up. You walked past his innocent smile and began to pace at the foot of the bed. "T-they hid my suppressants!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air. "Ugh." He frowned, confused. "What do you mean? Also, maybe you should sit...?" He gestured to the bed. "I guess," you replied, sitting. Solomon sat next to you. He nervously turned one of his ten gold rings around over and over. "So I'm an omega," you blurted, apparently needing to get the situation off your chest. Your servant seemed nice enough to talk. "And my parents hid my suppressants. Because...they want me to have sex with you." He began to sweat. "What?" "Well...they said it would bond us since I wasn't raised as a mage because of the omega thing and..." You continued to ramble as his ring picked up speed around his finger. The sweat didn't stop coming. You explained that your parents were terrified that another mage/Servant team would track you down and kill you without protection. Which was a solid concern, he agreed inwardly. And your parents were banking on Solomon being an alpha, as most Servants were. You stood up near the end of your spiel. "You must have had sex right? As king? I heard you had a big harem. Just do it. Let's get this over with!" "Ummm..." The man Solomon was when was first alive seemed like a lifetime ago since he worked for Chaldea. Which it was. It was even weird being called Solomon, not Dr. Romani Archaman. "Ummm," he repeated, inwardly sifting through his knowledge for another way to bond Master to Servant. He visibly deflated when he found nothing and you appeared to panic. "B-but we can't do that yet! You're not even in heat!" he hurried to add. "I will be," you said in a decisive tone. Solomon suddenly stood. "Can't you take refuge with the church? Wouldn't you be safe there?" "No, my parents say they don't trust them. They're convinced I'm as good as dead if I leave this house without you." "I see," he replied, sitting back down. A thought popped into his head then; that he wished he'd never been born an alpha. Then maybe he wouldn't have had to be king against his wishes and...that's when he usually dismissed that thought. He never would have worked at Chaldea and met everyone. That time was something he would never give up. "Okay," you said, "but you can do this right? And be gentle...?" You looked like you were drowning and hoping he would throw you a lifesaver with what he said next. "Yes!" he blurted. He patted the bed. "Sit, please. Try to calm down." You did. He made an attempt to talk you through it but there wasn't much to say. Things were decided for the both of you. You didn't truly feel your heat coming on until Solomon started glancing down towards your pelvis area. He nibbled his bottom lip, smelling it on you. "It's time," you stated. "You make it sound like you're about to give birth," he tried to laugh. Your eyes flew wide. He rapidly waved his hands in front of him. "No, no! Servants are sterile!" "Oh. Good." He would not be getting you pregnant. "Not ready to have kids yet, then...?" "Umm, no?" Lust was taking over his mind, along with the intense desire to put pups in your belly. Even though he wasn't technically able to. His judgement momentarily clouded, he reached for you with two open hands. Come sit on my lap, was what he wanted to say but he lost confidence at the last second. Scratching the back of his neck and sweating some more. "...Solomon?" The layers of his clothing were weighing down his erection. His head pounded in time with his cock. He forgot his nervousness, fisted his hand in your shirt, and pulled you in for a kiss. "I want to...my knot...you," he breathed when you broke for air. "Yes. Please." You chased his lips for more and grabbed at his sleeves, looking for guidance. Solomon chose to guide you back onto the bed instead of having you on his lap. "Leave this to me, okay?" he said, kissing your forehead. He gathered his hair in one hand and threw it back over his shoulder. "I want you, Solomon," you said, tugging on his clothing. "That's the heat talking," he joked, "but that's okay." He gently pried your fingers off his clothes to undo the front of them and let them slide down to pool at his knees. Though practiced at taking that outfit off, it still took too long for his throbbing cock. He could smell your slick soaking through your panties and nibbled his lip again just imagining what your pussy looked like. He left his gold jewellery and tattoos adorning his pale brown body. Your heat must have loosened your tongue because you purred, "Beautiful," eyes roaming all over him. He blushed. They stopped at his dark brown cock, standing up from a puff of white hair. You reached for it immediately. "Not yet," he said apologetically, taking your hand away. You whined and he shook his head with a smile. You were pouting and cute. He could have kissed that cute face but you looked like you were about to turn the tables on him for slowing down. "Your clothes, first," he said, pulling on your bottoms. He helped you take off your clothes, to which you said, "Thanks," awkwardly. Solomon's pale gold eyes were wide at how wet you really were when he pulled your panties from your pussy. His lips parted, tongue poking out. He could have started drooling. "Solomon?" you begged, hot with embarrassment and also because of your heat. "Right, right!" There was your leaking slit, empty and aching. Keeping one hand on your thigh, he pushed a finger inside you. More whining, as you bucked against the finger. Only getting a taste and needing more. The ring rubbed your entrance in just the right way and your mouth relaxed open with a moan. That face had him kissing you, hard. You broke the kiss just to demand, "More." He gladly gave you another finger. And a third slipped in easily. You were already so open to him. His cock throbbed hard in response so he pulled his fingers free to crowd you into lying back. He covered your body with his, lining up his cock, and slipping it inside you, his knees edging your thighs open. Solomon groaned loudly at finally being sheathed inside. "Fuck, Solomon," you gasped, one big step closer to getting the knot you craved. "Feels good?" he asked, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah." "Please let me know if it hurts. I'll stop." Solomon's hair fell around you in curly locks, framing his concerned expression. "I trust you." He locked lips with you after hearing that and began rocking his hips against yours. You puffed into his mouth but he refused to stop kissing you, demanding entrance. He sped up, causing you to moan so he finally left your mouth to keep his forehead pressed to yours. You both closed your eyes and lost yourselves in the act. You opened your eyes when you heard his soft moans. Then he groaned, lips stretching wide in an O-shape. His hips stopped. You frowned in concern. "Um?" Solomon explained with an embarrassed smile that his knot had already expanded. To which you tested in response, wiggling your hips back and forth. Your walls tugged on his knot, causing him to hiss in pain. His seed dribbled from around his length and tickled its way towards the bed. He thought he saw disappointment in your face so he distracted you by having you rub your clit. You weren't disappointed at all. His knot rubbed pleasurably inside whenever one of you moved. He had been a gentleman the whole way, keeping your comfort in mind. You didn't expect your orgasm to hit as hard as it did, with Solomon crying out in pain as your walls clenched around his spent cock. "Solomon?!" you asked in panic. "It hurts. B-but that's okay!" he was quick to add. There was some pleasure with the pain but that was an extra detail he felt best left out. Most alphas can go multiple rounds but now was not the time. Pregnancy had never been the goal. He held your hips, keeping where you were joined still, as he lay next to you on the bed. To let you both rest. He sighed. The silence left space for your mind to wonder, What now? Maybe that could be decided later. With a yawn, you closed your eyes to relax with the pleasant drowsiness. Your Servant was silent or so you thought. Did you enjoy yourself? You were startled, hearing Solomon's voice but dreamily and not through your ears. We are bonded now. I can speak to you in secret. Telepathically. You opened your eyes to find him smiling, pleased with himself. It was cute. He brushed all his curls back from his face and snuggled closer into the pillow. Still smiling at you. He reached over and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. Your Servant couldn't believe he got a Master as lovely as you. He was foolishly falling for you and you weren't far behind.

#fgo #solomon x reader #romani archaman x reader #smut #a/b/o dynamics #romance #my shit

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malereflections · 5 years ago

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Thumbnails of My Edgy Interests

Occasionally, my interests and fantasies include some things at the margins of the sexual landscape. Here are some thumbnail sketches of a sampling of these. The post is rather long, and is divided into subsections with appropriate subject headings so you can pick what you want. You will probably be surprised by what you read.

Initiation - I am being initiated into an all-male secret society. The initiation is carried out at night around a raised alter deep in the dark woods. There are a dozen or so hooded, robed figures surrounding the altar. They pass a metal goblet into which each contributes a small amount of urine. As the initiate, I am led to the altar where my robe is removed by the high priest, exposing my nakedness. I am given the goblet to drink. Then, I am laid out on my back on the altar so that my head bends down over the side, and my legs are spread and my ankles are secured in stirrups. The high priest offers up some incantations, then loosens the front of his robe revealing a massive hard cock. He takes me deeply and pounds me mercilessly until I feel his hot seed deep inside me. He walks around and inserts his ass-fresh, cum covered cock into my mouth for me to clean. Another member steps up and also takes me with his cock until he too, fills my bowels. He also uses my mouth to clean him, and the process repeats itself until all members have had their turn. A large butt plug is then inserted into me to retain the cum.

Jacuzzi - I enter a specially-designed Jacuzzi with three other guys that has knee pads and seat-belt like straps on the sides centered on a nozzle jet. Two guys face the jets, two face away. I start out facing toward the jet on my knees. The knee pads are adjusted so that my sensitive cockhead is right in front of the nozzle. I am then strapped tightly to the side, as are the other guys, and the pump is turned on. I cry out at the exquisite pleasure caused by the jet. It is so intense that I practically lose control of myself. It is not too long until I am shooting ropes of cum into the boiling water. I am moved to another station, standing in a deeper part of the pool, facing away from the nozzle, and bent slightly forward. I am positioned such that the jet is aimed right at my anal orifice, and I am again strapped tightly in place. The pump is started, and the jet blasts against my opening. I hold my anal sphincter tightly closed against the liquid assault as long as I can, buy eventually, it tires and relaxes. I groan as the high velocity jet blasts into me and floods my bowels. Soon I am distended, and mercifully the pump is turned off much to my relief. I realize that the water in the tub (and inside my ass) is now mixed with cum from the other guys.

Donkey Ride - I visit a special dude ranch, catering to male only clientele. One of the activities involves a private, guided burrow ride down into a deep canyon over a steep, rough trail. The saddle has a large, erect male dildo affixed to its center. When I mount up, the dildo is lubricated, and I am assisted in lowering myself (totally naked) slowly down onto the 8-inch long phallus until I am fully impaled. Once in the saddle, my feet barely reach to the stirrups such that I am unable to stand and raise myself up off the saddle. We move out, and I try to suppress my groans as the motions cause me to rock in the saddle with each step. As we descend the steep trail, the motions throw me violently back and forth and up and down in the saddle. I can contain my pleasure no more, and I moan aloud as I reach my first of several anal orgasms. That evening, I am taken to the barn where the burrows are kept, bent over a bale of hay on my stomach and restrained, then mounted and penetrated by a male burrow, who extracts his reward for a day of service. Now it is time for the burrow to signal his pleasure with loud baying that echoes down the canyon. All of those in the camp recognize this bay.

Symphonic Stimulation - I am restrained and blindfolded, and connected to an electro-stimulation device, with one electrode connected to a conductive anal probe, and the other to a rod inserted several inches into my urethra. The control unit is synchronized with music, with the intensity of the electric pulses proportional to loudness, and the frequency of the pulses proportional to tempo. It is turned on and I am left alone to enjoy the music from a long symphony, and the indescribable pleasure. My unintelligible groanings are drowned out by the music.

Canine Encounter - I am dressed in animal skins, with only my head and my ass uncovered. I am made to get on my hands and knees with my stomach and chest resting on a short padded bench, to which I am restrained. Concentrate of urine from a female dog in heat are liberally applied to my shaved asscrack. I am blindfolded. Shortly, the door opens and I hear what sounds like a large dog enter the room. I hear panting behind me and feel the touch of a cold nose to my ass. Suddenly, the beast is on my back with his legs locked on my sides. I feel the stabbing of his hard wet organ, probing, searching…then he hits home, and I moan aloud as I am deeply and relentlessly impaled by the rapid thrusts of his massive red phallus. His large knot forms inside me, and we are locked as he floods me with his canine seed.

Bed Boy - I am the guest of an important official in a far-away land with a different culture, and have been invited to spend the weekend at his secluded estate. Upon retiring to my room for the night, there is a quiet knock, and I open the door to find a servant with a scantily dressed, young prepubescent boy. The servant urges the lad into my room and tells me he is compliments of the master, for my companionship and enjoyment. Without saying anything, the boy removes his short robe, climbs onto my bed, and strikes a seductive pose. He is small but beautiful, with long blonde hair, smooth hairless body, and undescended balls. He would be known as a catamite or puer delicatus, an exquisite or dainty boy-slave selected by his master for his beauty as a sexual partner, dating back to Roman times. I know for me to refuse such a gift would be to insult the master.

I remove all my clothing and join him on the bed. He has obviously been coached on what to do to please a man, in every way possible. His little cock stays hard, and even though he is too young to ejaculate, he can experience intense boygasms. I give him many of these with my mouth. His bubble butt and puckered orifice are what dreams are made of. My mouth waters for the taste of his hole. I take him into my arms and proceed to ravish him repeatedly, filling his mouth and his tight ass with my semen, and enjoying the pleasures of man-boy love throughout the night. He quietly slips away at daybreak. In the morning my host asks how I slept. I smile, and try to hide a yawn. He knows, and says he is glad. The next night there is another knock on my door. It is a different young boy, but same outcome. This continues every night of my visit.

Hungry Calves - I have heard that nothing sucks like an hungry calf. I make arrangements to visit a special farm, and in one of the barns there is a sling suspended from the rafters. I climb into it and lie on my stomach, and my host secures me to the sling so that I am immobilized. There is a small opening through which my cock (now hardened with Viagra) and balls descend. I am suspended with the bottom of the sling about 4 feet off the ground. My host applies dairy crèam to my genitals. He leads several hungry young calves are led into the room, then locks the gate, leaving me alone. I moan aloud as am relentlessly milked by the calves until I empty my hot milky nectar into their incredible sucking mouths. Unsatiated, they continue to suck me to a multiple orgasms.

Quenching Thirst- I lie on the bed slightly propped up by a pillow against the headboard. My nude lover climbs up over me, straddling my head on his knees. He inserts his semi-erect cock into my willing mouth. Our eyes lock as I await his special present. Suddenly, my mouth is flooded with hot salty liquid and I consume the entire contents of his distended bladder. Not a drop is lost. Then, I suck him and drain his manly balls of their pent up load.

Polishing the Knob - I am stripped naked, and tied spread eagle on the bed on my back, blindfolded and gagged. Several large pillows are placed under my hips to elevate my middle so I am in a reverse curve. My Viagra fortified cock is constricted by cords tightly wrapped around the root and balls to keep it swollen and rock hard. My partner climbs onto the bed on his knees, grasps my shaft, and using the lubricated palm of his other hand, proceeds to “polish my knob” with much energy. He uses several motions, all of them aimed at my sensitive swollen cockknob. I writhe uncontrollably on the bed at the intense pleasure, pulling against my restraints, screaming into my gag. The sensations are too intense to bring an orgasm. But, he gives no relief, other than to vary the motions, teasing me. Finally, he changes to a stroking motion and gives me a much needed climax. But instead of stopping after I ejaculate, he goes back to polishing my knob, using mu cum as a lubricant. Once again I am writing and screaming as he continues to stimulate my cockhead, which is now very sensitive.

Fist and Arm - I am naked and positioned on my back in a sling suspended from the ceiling. My wrists and ankles are secured up above me with my legs spread wide. A small boy, also naked, stands between my legs. A lubricant has been generously applied to his hands and arm. He slowly begins to force his hand into my rectum. I groan and grimace from the discomfort as my anal muscles are stretched. He does not relent until my ass has consumed his hand. He makes a fist and continues his forward motion until he is up to his elbow. He then begins to plunge his fist and arm in and out like a piston while he strokes my cock with his other hand. I am crying out in pleasure and straining at the harness. I am completely out of control as my orgasm builds. Suddenly, I explode and my anal muscles contract in powerful spasms, gripping his arm as my cum shoots all the way up my chest.

Exposure - Periodically I have to feed the exhibitionist in me. I stay at a somewhat sleezy motel with external corridor access, when family vacations are not in season. Late at night, I crack open the window curtain, just enough to see into my dimly lit room. I then shamelessly exhibit myself engaged in sensual play on the bed wearing erotic black lingerie, impaling myself on a large male dildo. A shadow passes by the window, then returns and briefly lingers. I know he is there, watching me. He vanishes. In a few moments I receive a room-to-room phone call. I know it is he, even before he speaks. I ask him if he saw anything he liked. Of course he did. Want to see it up close? Yes. Then, come on by, I’ll leave the door ajar. He wastes no time. I return to the bed, continuing my shameless show. He is quickly naked, and joins me on the bed. I give myself to him. No more words are exchanged, except for my moans and sensual whispers, begging in the most explicit language for him to take me.

Anonymous - When I engage in receptive anal sex from a guy, I take him bare, all the way to his ejaculation, for all of the typical reasons. In the heat of passion, we don’t want to stop to take time to cover up. He may lose his focus and erection when doing so. Also, the pleasurable sensations are much greater with bare skin. But, more importantly, it is the indescribable satisfaction of taking a man’s hot seed deep inside. Of course, understanding the risks, I try to be selective and careful when engaged in such activity. This caution is usually not possible in certain settings (adult bookstore video booths or gay spas) with multiple anonymous partners.

In a typical scenario, I am in a booth with a sizeable, elongated opening in the partition with the adjacent booth. Of course, I am naked, as I always am in such a setting. I check out the guy in the next booth, who is also naked. He is muscular, tanned, bald, heavily tatooed and pierced, with goatee. He is stroking his cock, which is unusually large and fully erect, and has a thick cock-ring piercing the flanged head. I beckon him over to the partition, and he slides his magnificent member through the opening. I immediately take him into my mouth, as much as I can, and begin to suck him. Anonymous cock is so good.

I stop briefly and slip a very sheer and thin condom on him. I turn around and back up to the opening, bending over and positioning his engorged knob at my hungry, pre-lubed opening. I back up further, my sphincter yields, and he penetrates deeply until he is bottomed out. I back up so my ass is against the partition, and he begins to thrust his cock into me like a powerful piston. There is no stopping. I want it, and he knows it. I am groaning, and the partition is shaking, so everyone in the hallway would know what is happening. Finally, he slams into me, and I can feel his hard phallus jerking in uncontrollable spasms, over and over, as he ejaculates a flood of hot manseed.

When the spasms cease, he slowly withdraws, I turn around, and to my utter surprise and shock, the end of the condom is torn open, and his large cockhead is bare and uncovered, still dripping with cum. He has bred me in stealth. As he backs away from the opening and turns around, I see among his many tatoos one in the small of his back depicting a toxic symbol, that of a poz gay man. I have not only been bred, I have been seeded with toxic fluid.

Stepdaughter - I generally consider myself mostly gay, except when it comes to my stepdaughter, who is drop-dead gorgeous. I think she likes to tease with her tight, skimpy clothes. When she is at home, she sometimes leaves her underwear on the bathroom floor. This time I have a rare find of a thong that has a heavily stained, crusted crotch and skid marks. I am alone, so I strip and lie back on the bed with her thong over my head and face so I can inhale her pungent scent and suck in her heavily loaded vaginal and rectal secretions as I jack off. My orgasm is particularly powerful as I imagine myself eating out her wet pussy and tonguing her tight asshole. I shoot my load into the padded crotch of one of her clean panties, so that she will wear my cum against her hot little cunt.

Punished

- I am a member of a Satanic male coven. As part of my usual obligations I must visit the local temple each week and go to confession and take part in expected rituals, including the sacrament of sodomy and the sacrament of communion (shared chalise containing cum and urine). Confessions take place in a confessional booth with the supplicant naked. Depending on the nature of the offence (sin) and the degree of contrition, the priest will pronounce absolution, and require an act of penance. Usually, this act of piety involves giving oral sex to and receiving anal sex from the priest through an opening in the wall of the confessional. The act is concluded when the supplicant receives holy demonic semen from the priest. In the event of a mortal sin (such as participating in a Christian service), severe punishment is needed to restore the offender’s place in the coven.

Having committed such a sin, I am led naked before the brotherhood to a raised platform. I am placed on my back, and my legs are pulled up over me, then spread wide apart, fully exposing my genitals and ass. My arms and legs are secured in place, so I cannot move. I am completely vulnerable. A thick towel is placed over my face. The priest recounts the sin and pronounces the sentence. I am to receive six lashes, one each from six different brothers. The first is handed a multi-thonged leather whip (like a cat-o-nine tails). He stands before me between my wide-spread legs with my ass facing him. He brings the whip down between my legs with great force, aiming at my genitals and asscrack. I scream as the thongs tear into the sensitive flesh of my cock and balls. At first I thought I would try to contain my screams, but soon find I have lost all control of my utterances as well as my body. I writhe uncontrollably against the restraints, to no avail. As one after another brother repeats the punishment, I continue to cry out at the searing pain. Between each lash of the whip, I must recite the words, “Satan, forgive my sin.” My asscrack, cock, and balls are soon covered with beet-red lash stripes.

By the end, I am reduced to a whimpering, shaking, form. Then, to finish the punishment, each brother in turn stands between my legs and pisses on my fiery genitals and ass. The hot salty liquid only makes my wounds burn even more. I am eventually released and allowed to recover.

Gloryhole -- I manage a small rental house with semi-detached garage. Just inside the side door of the garage is a closet with a door. I cut a hole in the door of the appropriate size and at the right height for a gloryhole. Occasionally, when the house is vacant, I advertise on Craigslist, offering anonymous blow-and-go services after dark, and continuing into the night. There are no longer any adult bookstores with video arcades having doors and gloryholes, so mine is the only option for those who have an interest in such activities. The responses vary, but I end up orally servicing several guys on any given evening, of all ages and sizes. Of course, I eagerly swallow all their cum (the best part, and my reward). Usually, at least one will put his finger through the hole, indicating a desire to reciprocate. Depending on the lateness of the hour, I will usually accept the offer, and slip my drooling cock through the opening and into the warm, wet mouth of the one whom I had just sucked off. I love emptying my pent-up load of semen into the mouth of a complete stranger, almost as much as I love taking theirs into mine.

Forced 69 - I am placed on my side in a 69 position with another guy. We are each made to take the other’s cock fully into our mouths, with our lips around the root and our noses against the other’s ballsack. Our bodies are bound together (chest to chest), and our arms are wrapped around behind each other and tied at the wrists. Our legs are pulled up in a fetal position with our heads between the insides of each other’s thighs, and our thighs are then bound together just behind our heads. In this way, it is impossible to pull away from the other’s cock. We have been fully hydrated, and given full strength Viagra. An electro-ejaculator is inserted in each of our rectum’s, with the bulbous probe resting against our prostates. These devices are designed for use with stockyard male animals, including bulls, to obtain semen. The anal sphincter muscle clamps down on the small extension just behind the enlarged probe, locking it into place. The probe features electrodes through which flow electricity at a special frequency and intensity. When energized only slightly, the tickling current produces an erection. When fully energized, the device lives up to its name and causes the animal to experience a powerful and prolonged orgasm with ejaculation. It is 100 percent effective (guaranteed), and cannot be resisted.

The first electricity begins to flow, and the sensations are so pleasurable that our cocks quickly become aroused. With our lips held firmly against the base of the other’s cock, there is no where for our erections to grow except into the back of each other’s mouths, eventually resulting in a deep throat condition. We have to be careful with our breathing so as not to gag as the other’s cockhead enters our throat. The Viagra ensures that our erections and full and sustained. The electrical energy flowing into our sensitive prostates is gradually increased, ultimately causing us to groan and go into uncontrollable orgasmic spasms as we explosively ejaculate copious amounts of hot semen down each other’s throat.

This process will be repeated several times over an extended period as the electrical current is cycled up and down. Of course, by this time, the hydration has worked its way through our systems, and our bladders feel like they are near the point of bursting. We hold off as long as we can, but finally, following another ejaculation (which by now is just a dry heaving orgasm, since our seminal vesicles have long since been emptied), the floodgates burst forth and we drain the hot, bitter contents of our distended bladders into each other’s stomachs.

The Apes - While on a business trip to sub-Sahara Africa, I have been taken and held prisoner by a group of native exotic animal smugglers. As a past-time, they have raised a group of male apes with a special talent. These apes have been selectively bred to have larger than average penises (most apes have rather small cocks). In addition, from adolescence, they have been trained to copulate with a naked white human, first with dolls, than with the real thing. Upon successfully mating, they are generously rewarded with their favorite foods. Any attempt to harm the victim is severely punished.

The behavioral modification is so strong, that as soon as they see a naked, white human, they immediately respond with powerful erections and precum, which drools from the tip of their cocks, much like a dog will drool in anticipation of food. The dominant male ape, usually the largest, has first claim to the prize. When he is finished, the next highest ranking ape takes the victim, and so on. After the second one mates, it becomes a free-for-all, with the remaining junior apes all vying for a chance to breed the human. Adult apes are much stronger than any human, so physical resistance is useless. Crying out only urges them on.

I learn that I am to be the weekend entertainment, both for the apes, and for the natives. I am led to the ape compound, up some steps, and out a narrow bridge to the center. The apes look on with interest, together with a gallery of natives seated around the top of the wall. When my clothes are removed, the apes become very animated and vocal. I can see their large, red-colored erections projecting out from their black fur. I am put in a basket, and lowered by rope to the floor of the compound.

The apes gather around, looking at me with lustful stares. Suddenly, I hear sounds behind me and in an instant, the powerful furry beast is upon me. He pushes me to the ground face down, spreads my legs, raises my bare white ass, and begins to hump me, stabbing my furrow with his drooling phallus. After a few misses he hits home, and plunges his massive member deep into my virgin ass as I cry out in pain. The crowd of natives cheers upon hearing and seeing my deflowering. His powerful hips thrust against me, impaling me repeatedly on his hard rod. His loud grunts are mixed with my own moans, partly of pain, but more and more of pleasure. Finally, with a loud roar, he drives forward and floods me with his hot animal seed. This again brings cheers from the gallery of spectators. He pulls off, and I roll over on my back.

The second ape wastes no time, and he is quickly upon me. He climbs over me, spreads my legs, and begins humping me as the first had done. I wrap my legs around his stocky waist and lift my hips to him. His shaft finds my oozing orifice, and he drives it fully into me in one swift motion. The cum of the first ape is a natural lubricant, and I am once again uttering groans of pleasure as the ape fucks me with much passion. I find myself responding to the pounding with a series of anal orgasms. He signals his own orgasm with a powerful thrust and loud bellow. He withdraws, and I feel warm cum running out of my now-gaping opening.

As soon as he pulls off, two junior apes are over me, pushing and tugging for the opportunity to mate. I end up being sandwiched between them, and they continue their humping until both their cocks are inside me, causing me to cry out as I am stretched, much to the delight of the crowd. After the apes finish breeding me, they withdraw, leaving me as a helpless form on the floor. A couple of natives gather me up and help me from the compound. This is to be the first of many such events during my captivity.

The Church - I visit a church that is known for its services to the gay community. I choose a time that is set aside for confessions, and enter the private confession booth. I introduce myself, and tell the priest (hidden from clear view on the other side of the partition) that I have sinned, and I briefly explain my recent sexual encounter with another man. He wants to know more, so I give him a description of my experience, all in very explicit detail. He tells me that I will have to do penance, and that I will have to make a daily offering for seven days to demonstrate suitable contrition, after which I can be absolved.

I am to come to the church before sunrise each day, go to a room where I will disrobe and don a robe, then go to a small darkened chapel. There, I will approach the altar, light a candle, remove my robe so that I am completely naked, and kneel on the bench. I am to stroke myself while reciting a prayer until I ejaculate my offering of semen into a small challis that will be provided each day. I do so for six days.

On the seventh day, I approach the altar, remove my robe, and drop to my knees as usual. Only there is no challis. Instead, out of the shadows steps a robed hooded figure, who approaches and stands in front of me. He parts his robe to reveal a semi-erect phallus, which he begins to stroke right in front of my face. He tells me that my offerings have been accepted, and that he will grant absolution by giving me the consecrated holy seed of mother church, which I am to consume before him in a sacred ritual. After a few moments, he reaches behind my head with his free hand, and pulls me with open-mouthed onto his throbbing drooling rod, just in time to hear a gasp and taste several spurts of hot priestly seed, which I dutifully swallow. It’s good to feel forgiven.

Call Home - I am in the motel room on a business trip with a good friend who is a virile, insatiable top. I have enjoyed the last ten minutes on my stomach with my hips raised up on a pillow, being impaled from above and behind by his throbbing 7-inch mancock as I moan and grasp at the sheet. I roll over, spread my legs, and lock my ankles behind his neck as he mounts me again. Only now, we can enjoy prolonged kisses as he makes passionate love to me, pausing only to keep from cumming too soon. We are interrupted by the phone by the bedside. I have been waiting for a call from home, and I have to take it. I break off our kiss, and try to converse with my wife without moaning and gasping. My lover slows his thrusts, but continues unabated. When my wife begins a long description of some happening, I rotate the phone away from my mouth and turn back and resume the deep kissing. I break off our kiss occasionally to get in a quick “oohhhhh…” or “”hmmmm….”, just to hold up my end of the call. When the call finishes, I tell her goodnight and that I love her. After I hang up, my lover resumes with heightened enthusiasm, ravishing me with raw animal passion. There is no stopping now. His body motions between my legs bring me to a hands-free climax, which in turn triggers his own powerful orgasm, flooding me with his hot seed.

Frozen Cum - I have a newly retired friend and widower who is a habitual, compulsive masturbator, often jacking off three or four times over the course of a day. Due to my home situation, it is difficult for me to get free to meet him very often as I would like. So, he saves up his cum, freezing it until he has 4 to 6 ounces. When we meet at a restaurant for coffee or lunch, and he will slip me the frozen cum. When I have some private time alone. I will strip and inject the thawed cum into my ass using a large syringe. I will then vigorously fuck myself to orgasm with a large male dildo, using his cum as a lubricant and pumping it deep into me. The dildo is covered with a white, sticky lather as it plunges repeatedly into my hungry ass. After I climax, I slowly withdraw the dildo, bring it to my mouth, and suck off the cum residue.

Coming of Age Ritual - I am researching a lost tribe in a remote area of Africa. I make contact, and speak to them through my interpreter/guide. I am particularly interested in coming of age rituals for young adolescent males of the tribe. The boys of the tribe wear little clothing, only a small loin cloth. The are friendly, but are most curious about me. I am larger than the natives, and stronger, probably because of nutrition.

As night falls, I observe an older native departing the camp on a path, followed shortly thereafter by a boy. After a brief time, my guide beckons me to follow him along the trail. It is getting dark, but in the moonlight, everything is still visible. We stop just short of a clearing, In the center of it is a post to which the older native is tied. He is blindfolded, on his knees, with his back against the post and with his hands and ankles tied behind the post. He is aroused, and his erection is enhanced by a tight cord around the base of his balls and cock. A young boy (looks 10 or 11, but probably older), also naked, approaches him on his hands and knees, and without touching the older native, takes the cock into his mouth and begins to suck. It is clear that he has been coached, since the older native is moaning with pleasure under the oral assault. Soon, the native strains against the restraints, cries out, and his cock begins to spasm as he unloads his African manseed into the boy’s mouth. The boy swallows, backs away, and stands up. He is very aroused as well. My guide quietly leads me back to camp, and explains the ritual to me.

The members of the tribe believe that desirable qualities of strength, prowess, and manliness (i.e., cock size) are passed on from older to younger male members through exchange of semen. Men of the tribe who exhibit these qualities are highly prized by the boys, and as a consequence are in demand. Passing of the semen is usually accomplished through fellatio (as in the witnessed case), but for more effect, it is sometimes passed through sodomy. A young adolescent male will repeat this ritual many times until he is admitted as one of the adult members of the tribe.

I ask how this happens, and my guide tells me that the youth will have a courier (a go between) deliver a leather necklace to the object of his desire. The recipient, who should be honored, will then go to the sacred clearing at dusk, accompanied by the courier, who is a eunuch, sworn to secrecy. It is considered very rude to refuse an invitation, unless the recipient is ill. In the clearing the man will disrobe, place the necklace around his neck, and kneel at the post. The attendant will secure him against the post on his knees and blindfold him. The man will therefore be unaware of who is servicing him, as it could be his own son. He will then rub the extract of a very irritating plant on his penis and scrotum, stroking his member until the irritation has the desired effect of producing a hard erection. The attendant then ties a cord tightly around the base, locking in the erection.

When the boy arrives at the place, the attendant disrobes the boy, has him get on hands and knees, and approach the man, facing the man for oral, and facing away from him and backing up to him for anal. Of course, for anal, the attendant also applies a natural plant lubricant to the distended and throbbing cock. The rest is as witnessed earlier. My guide pulled me close and whispered, that because of my physical size and shape, I would be desired by the boys as a potential semen donor. And, if my body size was any indication of my cock size, all the boys would want to take me to the clearing, multiple times.

The next day, while working on my notes, a native approaches, and without speaking, hands me a leather necklace. I am a little shocked, but not totally surprised. That evening, I go out the path to the clearing, and see the courier by the post. He has me strip completely, and get down into position. As described, I am bound, blindfolded, and prepared with the irritating extract. He strokes me, making me hard as steel. In a few moments, I hear some rustling, and the sounds of someone slowly approaching me from the front. Anticipating what is about to happen, I am very aroused, and my cock is standing up at a 45 degree angle. A thread of clear pre-cum streams down. The touch of a tongue on my oozing cockhead is electric, and my cock jumps in response. I then feel the tongue at the base of my cock, licking upward. I gasp as it slides over my knob. I’ve never wanted something so much. I groan loudly as my cock is consumed by the unseen boy’s hot, wet mouth. He takes me deeply, and starts to suck me with powerful oral movements. God, he is good. He continues his skillful art, unrelenting. Soon, I am there, and in a long deep groan that echoes through the forest (and probably back to the camp), I blast an avalanche of hot cum into the youth’s hungry mouth. He keeps sucking and swallowing, not wanting to lose a drop. Finally, my cock slips out, and I almost collapse, if it were not for the bindings. My legs are weak and quivering as the attendant loosens my restraints and helps me to stand up. When he removes the blindfold, the boy is gone. He gives me my clothes and goes with me back to camp. I try to hide my continuing erection as I pass by a few of the inhabitants and go to bed.

In the morning my guide greets me and tells me that word of my manly performance has spread through the camp, and there is considerable excitement among the young boys. Apparently there is a lottery system to select the next recipient. As soon as he informs me, the courier arrives, and hands me the leather necklace, with a wry smile. Everywhere I go that day, I am greeted with coy looks and smiles, as though they all know.

When evening comes, I once again make my way to the clearing, where the attendant awaits. I go through the same preparations as before as I await the next youth. I hear rustling, and someone approaching. I am startled by the touch of the attendants hands, applying a slippery cream to my distended cock. The rustling if much closer, and my cock touches what I suspect is the fleshly part of a boy’s ass. A small hand grips the base of my cock and guides my drooling knob to the special place. He backs up slowly until his tight sphincter yields and my cockhead penetrates his hot rectum. I gasp as he continues to push against me, and his tight ass consumes more and more of my length. I suspect that he has never had a cock of this size before, and it takes a while to adjust. But, he is up to the task and eventually, I am bottomed out, with my balls against his ass crack. He then begins to move, slowly at first, then increasing in speed and penetration. I moan with each wonderful thrust of his ass. His anal muscles are massaging me like nothing else, and I know I must be rubbing against his sensitive prostate. He can be quiet no longer, and he cries out using foreign words, but I know exactly what he is communicating. Both of us are approaching a climax, and he goes first, screaming in pleasure as his ass goes into uncontrollable spasms around my cock. It is too much for me, and I soon follow with a powerful, gut-wrenching orgasm, blasting hot Caucasian seed deep in his bowels. Once again, my loud, orgasmic groan carries through the forest, signaling the consummation. I am totally drained, once again.

This amazing and wonderful ritual repeats itself every night. Surprisingly, most of the boys want it in the ass, which thrills me to no end. I arrange to make a return trip in a few months.

Incubus Visitation

- I am fascinated by legends of erotic, spirit beings who come upon unsuspecting, sleeping people at night, male or female, and after rendering them powerless, mercilessly raping or sodomizing them. Though fascinated, I really never actually believed these things to be true. Anyway, I decided to go to over a long weekend a remote cabin at the edge of a swamp known for accounts of various ghost-like encounters. The cabin was rustic – no electricity, no running water, and no cell phone coverage. The nice thing is that I could enjoy being completely naked, indoors or out, and engaging in unlimited, kinky erotic play, vocally expressing my pleasure with no one to hear. I filled my ass with all sorts of dildos and prostate stimulators.

The first night was uneventful (other than my sensual play), and I was thinking even more that it was all hokey. The next day I went to the edge of the swamp and continued my sensual play, impaling myself on the phallus-shaped cypress knees, letting my load moans echo out through the swamp. During the second night, I awoke, realizing I was not alone, and feeling the weight of someone on top of me. I was face down on the bed, with my wrists spread and tied to the headboard posts, and a pillow under my hips. From what I could tell by touch, the being was hot, furry, and very muscular. I felt what I surmised was a rock hard and incredibly long sexual organ sliding up and back along my shaved ass furrow, lubricated by a thick, sticky sounding substance. It dawned on me what was about to happen. The slippery head pushed up against my puckered anal orifice, which yielded to the powerful invader. I moaned loudly as the beastly organ slid deeper and deeper into me until it bottomed out. The alien being began to thrust, slowly at first, then with animal passion, his powerful hips slamming up against my ass with each penetrating thrust. I was lost in erotic passion and pleasure, raising up my ass to meet his thrusts, feeling his hot breath on my neck. With an evil groan, he drove deep and began to spasm, releasing a flood of otherworldly seed into me, causing me to cum as well.

That’s the last I remember until morning. When I awoke, I thought it had surely all been a dream, until I noticed that my sore ass was still oozing cum, and saw rope burns on my wrists. I now believe.

Milked - I had discovered that my semen contained a very rare hormone that, when concentrated, purified, and taken, would contribute to one’s longevity. Obviously, such a chemical is extremely valuable, and potentially profitable. Despite medical records confidentiality, word of my test results leaked out to those who would stop at nothing to have this. I was subsequently kidnapped and held a virtual prisoner by the leader of a powerful drug cartel. Although I was well cared for, and lacked nothing physically, I was kept solely for semen extraction, and was subjected to once daily milking sessions.

In these I would be stripped naked, placed face down on my knees with legs spread and my chest resting on a low padded bench. I was then secured in place using Velcro straps. Over my hanging cock was slipped the receptical sleeve of what appeared to be a dairy milking machine. It was held in place by a cord back to a tight cock ring around the base of my cock and balls. Behind me, attached to an adjustable frame, was the probe of a bull electroejeculation unit (a contoured, elongated probe about 2-inches in diameter that is used to cause a bull to ejaculate for semen collection). The probe was lubricated, and slowly moved forward into my anus until I was fully impaled on it and it rested against my prostate and seminal vesicules, then it was locked in place. A video camera (with audio) was turned on, for the entertainment of anyone who wanted to witness the action on closed circuit TV.

The milking machine was turned on, and the sleeve started a reciprocating action on my cock as the vacuum was alternately applied and released. The electrical unit attached to the probe was energized, and the electrical pulses began to radiate through my groin as the intensity was gradually increased, bringing loud groans from me. The electrical pulses caused my anal and rectal muscles to go into uncontrollable spasm, and I pulled against the restraints. I was unable to resist my quickly growing arousal, even if I wanted to (which I didn’t). It only took a matter of 3 or 4 minutes for the equipment to accomplish its intended purpose with exquisite results, and I gave a final load moan as I went into a powerful, extended orgasm, filling the receptical with my sought-after liquid essence.

Often, after the equipment was removed, but while I was still strapped in place, the male attendant (who had won a wager among other attendants on how long it would take me to orgasm) would strip, lubricate his cock, and fuck me until he emptied his cum deep inside me, all captured, of course, on video.

Tentacle Creature - While on a field research trip in a remote tropical setting, I am taken prisoner by a band of ordinarily friendly natives. I am stripped naked, and about dusk I am taken to a small clearing where I am tied at my wrists and ankles between two trees with legs spread and arms outstretched. A native holds a spider (Brazilian wandering spider) between my legs against my perineum just behind my ballsack. I cry out as I feel a wasp-like sting. After a few moments, my cock begins to grow into a throbbing, steel-hard erection that will last at least 4 hours (effect of spider bite).

The natives seat themselves around me in a circle a short distance away. I notice on the ground all about me there are a number of small, rounded, stump-like growths. As the first shadows of nightfall darken the area, the tops of the growths split open, and a light brown, eel-like tentacle slowly emerges from each one. They move slowly, pausing frequently as if to sniff the air for prey (me?). They have no eyes or facial features, but they do have what appears to be some kind of mouth. One type of tentacle has a toothless mouth that rhythmically opens and closes. Another type of tentacle has an opening in the tip through which a red, wet, probiscus-like tongue alternately emerges and retracts, much like the penile sheath on a dog. At its maximum extension, it projects about 8 inches.

The tentacles, having detected my presence, approach my helpless body, and encircle my legs, then my hips, chest, and neck. The tentacles with protruding tongues focus on my orifices, my mouth and particularly my vulnerable ass. I cry out as a muscular tongue burrows deep into my bowels, only to be joined by at least two others, all taking turns. My cries are quickly muffled by another tongued tentacle that slips inside my mouth. The tentacles with mouths search out anything to suck – toes, nipples, balls, and what appears to be their favorite organ – my rigid, throbbing cock. I am being mercilessly milked as I am repeatedly impaled and raped by the swirling mass of tentacles.

I hear cheers and whistles from the surrounding native audience. The beast seems to sense my impending orgasm, and reacts with increased activity and intensity. I choke out a guttural moan as I erupt and flood the cocksucking tentacle with my cum. The mouthed tentacle, now satiated, pulls off only too be replaced by another hungry tentacle. My cock remains hard, and the beast resumes its simultaneous sucking and anal and oral assault. Only after four orgasms in succession does the creature finally withdraw and leave me, totally drained and limp. The natives cut me down, and carry me back to a hut.

The Initiation - I am being inducted as a member of a phallic temple. The initiation ceremony is conducted by the high priest in the presence of the male membership. Everyone is nude, except the priest. Most all are in various stages of arousal. The air is thick with incense and the scent of male sexuality. As the initiate, I kneel before the most recently inducted member, take his hard cock in my mouth, and suck him until he offers up his drink offering, which I eagerly consume. I am then led to a sculpted nude figure of a large, masculine male positioned in the center of the room. The figure is seated with crossed legs, and a massive erect phallus. I am led to the figure, and its oversized organ is lubricated. Several members take me and raise me up, then slowly lower me onto the instrument of worship. I groan as I am impaled and filled with the object of lust. I am lowered until I am resting on the figure’s lap. My legs are wrapped around the back of its body and my ankles are bound together. My arms are wrapped around its neck and my wrists are likewise tied together. I am unable by design to lift myself off of the devilish, phallic rod. I am told that I must in an act of worship bring forth my cum offering to the male idol. I cannot touch myself. Rather, I must engage in sensual movements on the shaft, writhing and moaning as the hard rod drives against my prostate. I move my body on the object of my lust with wild abandon, giving myself over to the power of the image. My orgasm builds, then erupts in an explosion of cum, drenching myself and the male statue with the evidence of my devotion.

The Ranch I have stumbled onto a private, posted ranch by mistake, and have been taken captive by several ranch hands. They lead out a mature male horse, and place a canvas sling under his belly towards the rear. They take me, strip me naked, and force me into the sling face up with my head forward, and tighten the sling so I am pressed up against the horse’s lower belly. My wrists are tied and pulled up by a rope over the horse’s back. My spread legs are similarly tied up by the ankles. They begin to rub the horse’s cock with an ointment that soon makes the horse’s reproductive organ very erect. They lubricate the cock, and put the large flanged head up against my anus. I groan as they push the sling back and the massive cockhead enters my rectal cavity. They then tie another rope around the rear of the animal to the sides of the sling, so that I cannot slide forward and slip off of the cock.

They get on their horses, and lead my horse into a slow walk. The walking motion causes the sling to move forward and back in a rhythmic motion. As it does, I am repeatedly impaled on the arms-long phallus, making me cry out in a combination of pain and pleasure. They speed up to a slow trot, turning the sling into an incredible, natural fucking machine. Soon, I am experiencing almost continuous anal orgasms. The horse eventually stops, neighs, and erupts inside me, filling me with what seems to be gallons of hot equine semen. They leave me impaled on the horse for a while as he grazes, finally releasing me.

The Prisoner - Because of a minor infraction, I have been sent to a prison camp in a developing country composed of predominantly black men. There is an unofficial structure to the prison population, and as long as the informal inmate leadership keeps things quiet, the guards don’t usually interfere.

When new prisoners are introduced, especially thin white prisoners like myself, the inmate leadership has a way to make sure they toe the line and stay in their place, so to speak. The method is similar to what was known as “buck breaking” during the slavery era. This was used to set an example for uncooperative male slaves. First, the victim is stripped naked, then his hands are tied and the victim is hoisted up by the rope over a beam so he is suspended with feet hanging. He is gagged so his screams will not be noticed. He is then whipped with a leather whip, focusing of course on his genitals. Soon, his cock, balls, and ass are covered with red stripes. Next, he is taken down, laid face down on a bench (breaking bench) and bound in place, then mercilessly and repeatedly sodomized (barebacked) by hung black males selected by lot from the prison population. All this is done in view of the other prisoners.

He is then assigned to one of the inmate leaders (again selected by lot), to be used as his personal bed boy, and sometimes loaned out to others in return for special favors. Rarely a night goes by when he is not ravished by some large black male. Occasionally, he is released into the gang showers, where it becomes an all-comers orgy for the general prison population, with sperm-laden black cocks filling both his mouth and ass. His almost feminine cries incite their animal passions even more. Rarely, has so much cum been deposited into the openings of one individual in one session. As a white bed boy in a black prison, this is my lot in life for the duration of my stay, and I love it.

Special Farm - As a male with an almost entirely gay orientation, I have little use or desire for female pussy. The sight of it really does nothing for me, unlike the sight of a manly hard cock or ass. However, there is one exception. The pussy of a female horse (a mare) turns me on like no other. The thick labia surrounding a pink orifice, the clit that inverts itself when stimulated, the puckered anal orifice above (inviting in its own way) - all is exciting.

I locate a special remote farm (through a tip from one of my kinky male friends), and make arrangements for a discrete weekend visit. Understandably, they don’t advertise their special services, and the only way to learn about them is through referrals from trusted clients. Interspecies sex (bestiality) is still taboo, and illegal in most places, but my desire for sex with animals has been kindled, and I feel compelled to pursue it. I meet the owners, a backwoods looking couple in their late 50's. She is trim, with long graying hair. He is heavy and hairy, with a big pot belly and long gray beard. He wears a t-shirt and coveralls. Both have missing teeth. When I made the arrangements, there was nothing said about payment, and upon later inquiring, he simply responded that the compensation would be in other ways.

Before dinner, they show me the barn, which contains stalls for horses and donkeys. After dinner, as it is just getting dark, we return to the barn. They introduce me to a mature mare horse in one of the stalls. They tell me that they have her all cleaned up for me, and that if I would like to enjoy her company, I should disrobe and slowly approach her from her rear. The wife will stand at the head to comfort the horse and keep her at ease, while the guy will assist me with what to do. I feel a little self conscious, since I am the only one who is naked. He directs me to stimulate her vulva to get her ready to mate. I use my fingers, until she seems wet. I want to taste her, so I put my mouth over her pussy, licking her pussy lips and tonguing her hole. She smells and tastes like one would expect a horse to smell and taste.

By now my cock is hard and erect. He places a low step behind her, and directs me to step up. The height of the step is such that my cock is at the right level for entry. I wet my eager cock, place my drooling knob at the entrance, and slide inside. I am in heaven! Her pussy is like a hot, wet, velvet glove. I hold her tail to the side, and begin to thrust into her. I am transfixed by the sight of my pink cock disappearing into her dark recesses. It is not long before I am close, and I have to pause several times to keep from cumming prematurely. Finally, I can hold back no more and I groan aloud as I experience an explosive orgasm and release my human sperm inside her. After a while, I slowly withdraw, and a stream of cum runs down below her orifice. I lean forward and lick this up, then place my mouth over her pussy once again, this time to suck the rest of my cum from her.

Later that evening I find out what kind of “compensation” is expected. I spend the evening and into the night providing all manner of deviant sexual pleasures for them. She is the hairiest woman I have ever seen. I spend long periods devouring her pussy in her dense furry muff, while he drives his horse-sized cock into my willing ass. He is incredibly long-lasting, and takes me several times in several positions, turning me into his cum dump. During the night, when they need to piss, my mouth and throat serves as their personal toilet. The next day, I am told it will be a male horse (a stallion), but this time, I will be the recipient. Of course, the interspecies sex will once again be followed by another night of special compensation for the hosts.

The Serpent - I am sleeping, entertaining lustful thoughts of hot demon sex, which gives me a throbbing hard-on. Suddenly, I am in the presence of a being resembling a large red reptile, like a boa or python, with a length of at least 15 feet and as thick as my leg. It quickly encircles me, immobilizing me with its powerful coils. I realize resistance is useless, as it could easily crush me.

Its scaly cool skin slides over my erect cock, turning my fear into arousal. A coil wraps around behind my hips, and the tail portion rubs down my stomach against my cock. The tip of the tail slips down between my legs and turns upward into my anus. I groan as it burrows ever so deeply into my rectal orifice, moving with sensual motions. The snake’s cochlea opens, and slips down over my hard cock like a masturbation sleeve.

I cry out as I am taken by the being in a reptilian copulation ritual. It fucks my cock while it simultaneously fucks me in my ass. It positions its head directly in front of my face, and our eyes lock. I am mesmerized by the red, demonic glow. A thick, black reptile tongue emerges from its mouth and grazes my lips. The serpent moves to where our lips are touching, and I instinctively open my mouth. The powerful, slimy tongue invades my mouth and slides down my throat. I can only make guttural sounds in response to the multiple penetrations.

It dawns on me that I am mating with a demonic epiphany of that serpent of old, none other than Satan himself. I long to be united to Him. The serpent continues its irresistible motions, milking me until I yield up my holy semen in a powerful orgasm, consummating our union, a union of flesh and spirit. It withdraws, leaving me exhausted on the bed. Through this ritual I now belong to Him, totally and completely.

Masturbation as Worship Alone in my secret sanctuary, I strip naked, lie back, close my eyes, spread my legs, and begin to masturbate, praying aloud, summoning gay demons from the Abyss to descend upon me, to possess me, and fill me with cock lust and sodom lust. Every day, I engage in prolonged masturbation as an act of ritualistic worship to Satan, the God of cock, and His ministering spirits. I willingly offer my cock as an instrument of their service, to be used as they desire. My cock hardens and throbs for Satan, and for sacred union with his minions. Their demonic energy sweeps over me, causing me to groan and writhe uncontrollably. I repeat mantras of love and adoration for Satan. I lose control as I am filled with their presence. My pleadings turn to unintelligible ecstatic utterances, and I speak in demonic tongues. My orgasm builds and erupts in a flood of holy semen, which I produce as a thank offering to them. As I conclude my service of cock, I consume the offering, drawing upon its power to transform me into a devoted disciple of Satanic cock worship.

Sacred Rite - I kneel naked before the object of my desire, a large phallic dildo (with balls and suction cup, securing it in a vertical position on the floor). I crawl forward and squat over it, with its bulbous head at the entrance to my lubricated anus. I slowly lower myself, groaning aloud and calling for the demon spirits of Sodom to come upon me and join with me in the sacred rite of satanic sodomy. My sphincter yields, and I impale myself completely on the massive phallus.

I call for the spirits of Sodom, that ancient city of gay lust, to inhabit my anus, to use it as a portal to their sacred temple - in my soul. I entertain visions of being raped and sodomized by their hot demonic organs, and being filled with their satanic seed, of becoming pregnant with their demon offspring. I writhe slowly on the dildo, feeling their pleasure. My hips become a blur of motion, and as the anal pleasure overwhelms me (Satan is the author of sodomy, and as its creator, knows how to maximize its pleasure in his disciples). I convulse in a powerful anal orgasm, and my anal muscles go into uncontrollable spasm, which lasts for some time. My hot seed oozes forth, as the cock dildo is driven forcefully against my seminal vesicles, ejaculating their contents. I collapse as though my energy has been drained and taken.

Recovering, I begin to masturbate, using my cum as a lubricant. I need a full penile orgasm. Cock lust now fills me. I masturbate for the King of Sodom, as His devoted subject, impaled on His phallic symbol in the sacred rite. His energy flows through my cock, and it throbs for Him. I slowly and loudly groan the holy word “Soduuummmmeeeeee……” as my cock explodes in a geyser of cum and my anus once again grips the deeply embedded dildo with strong muscular spasms. I lick up my cum offering as I conclude the sacred rite. I thank the King and spirits of Sodom, and ease myself off of the phallus.

Sacred Retreat - I periodically go on a weekend retreat during nice weather to spend some time alone, communing with Satan and his demons. I choose a remote cabin in an area known for spirit activity. It is rustic, with no electricity or running water. It is also sufficiently remote that I don’t have to worry about being bothered by unwelcome human visitors. Upon arriving, and after getting settled in, I remove all my clothing (except for shoes), and lock it in the car trunk. I will enjoy the weekend in the nude. I explore the area and locate (by inward feeling) what I will use as my sacred place, a sanctuary where I will invoke Satan’s presence and that of His spirit demons. I prepare it with a small carpet pad, black candles, and Satan’s signet, and set up a makeshift altar. I adorn it with various receptacles (chalices) and a number of large, phallic dildos of both human and animal (dog and horse). In the center, before the altar, I install a stub base in the ground on top of which I will afix various dildos. I will start with the human male dildo, but in subsequent sessions I will use the equine and canine dildos to help summon the demons of bestiality.

The daylight hours are spent making preparations. There are ceremonial cleansings (inside and out) that I must perform. There are times of meditation, writing and reciting prayers to Satan, the God of Cock, and King of Sodom. There is frequent hydration using various energy drinks (no food this weekend). Of course, with the hydration, there is more frequent urination, all of which I consume. There are also male supplements, blue pills, and cock rings to enhance the experience.

As dusk approaches, I go to the sanctuary and light the candles. I kneel before the altar, raising my hands and offering up praise and adoration for Satan, invoking his presence, along with that of his demons of gay lust, sodomy, bestiality, and pedophilia. I take a chalice from the altar, place it below my cock, and fill it with golden, salty fluid. I lift it up to Satan as a drink offering, and then drink it, savoring the bitter aftertaste. As I continue to pray, my cock begins to stir, and I sense a presence around me. I lubricate my ass , cock, and dildo, squat on my knees over the male dildo, and slowly lower myself onto it. I groan aloud as I am slowly impaled on the thick phallic symbol.

I begin to move on the dildo and stroke my now erect cock, praying to Satan and crying out for His filling. I engage in the sacred sacrament of sodomy, which opens me up for penetration and entry by Satan and His demons. As I sodomize myself on the male dildo, I invoke the name of Satan, the King of Sodom, pleading for Him and His demons to fill me and possess me. My prayers and pleadings continue, as I worship the satanic godhead - Satan, Lucifer, the Serpent, and the Dragon. I enter a trance-like state of altered consciousness, and I begin to shake uncontrollably. I am still praying, but I am no longer in control of my words. I am speaking in tongues, the tongues of demons, as I worship the prince of demons. Inevitably, I reach a pinnacle of satanic pleasure and my body erupts in a whole-body orgasm, my anal muscles contracting in spasms around the embedded dildo and my cock spewing rope-like strands of holy semen into the chalice positioned in front of me.

As I slowly come back to reality, I slump down on the dildo. I raise the chalice to Satan, dedicating the cum-offering to Him, and then I consume my holy seed. This is repeated in subsequent sessions using the animal dildos, in which I will worship Satan as the God of Bestiality, calling on Him to fill me with insatiable lust for animals, and to breed me with their semen as I offer praise to Him. I spend the entire weekend praising and glorifying Satan, and communing with His demons of gay lust, sodomy, bestiality, and pedophilia.

Sacred Undergarments

Like several religions (the Mormons), I make use of sacred undergarments as part of my religious service of Satan. Unlike the plain white conservative top and shorts used by others, mine are erotic, silky, and skimpy. I have an assortment of tiny thongs, V-strings, bikinis, and pouches in various colors - pink, red, powder blue, and black. I regularly wear these under my clothing, sometimes with cockrings or supports to accentuate my genitals. The feel of the silky material, as little of it as there is, is very sensual and arousing. The undergarments remind me throughout the day of my commitment to Satan, and my desire to worship him in every way possible.

The Eunuch I am a young adolescent male from Palestine, handsome and reasonably educated. My homeland has just been overrun by soldiers from Chaldea (Babylon), and I have been taken back with them to serve as a slave, along with others. Because of my appearance and manner of speech, I am singled out by the slave traders in Babylon for special treatment. I will bring a high price at market, and may even find a place at the house of a high official, or possibly even the royal court. One thing is needed, though, to maximize my marketability.

I am taken aside to a small courtyard away from the general market, where I am stripped naked and placed back down on an inclined wooden table with my hips even with the lower edge. My legs are pulled widely apart and tightly secured with ropes to two posts. My body is lashed down so that I cannot move, and my arms are pulled above my head and similarly lashed. A rag is stuffed in my mouth. My genitals are fully exposed and vulnerable. A burley man takes a seat on a stool located between my legs. I strain against the restraints, anticipating what may be happening, but it is useless. I cannot move. I scream into the rag as I feel the searing pain, like I have never experienced before. I jerk uncontrollably against the ropes. The man makes an incision in my scrotum through which he quickly removes my testicles, severing and cauterizing the vascular tubes. My incision is bound up with a cloth, and I am released to recover.

Soon, my former steelhard erections and powerful ejaculations will be a thing of the past. My muscular frame will give way to a softer, fuller figure. My body will become smooth with little hair. My breasts, which are tight and firm, will develop somewhat like those of a woman. My former competitive nature will be gone. I may be employed in a position as a personal servant to a powerful official in an intimate role, taking care of his bathing, grooming, dressing, and elimination needs within his inner bed chamber. Of course, I will probably also be called upon to satisfy his sexual needs as well. [Wives were intended for procreation, not sexual pleasure, and young women could become pregnant. A master could have unlimited penetrative sex with his personal male slave without risk of pregnancy. It was expected of him, and his masculinity would be called into question if he didn’t.] He may even share me with his friends, for similar services. Such is the life of a young, attractive, feminized eunuch.

Phallometric Testing - I am being forced by a state corrections agency to undergo a phallometric exam to assess my interests in sexually deviant behavior, such as pedophilia (involving pre-pubescent children, age 10 and younger) and hebephilia (involving pubescent, early adolescent children, age 11 to 14). Phallometric response to male and female pedophilic and hebephilic sexual stimuli is a fairly strong predictor of sexual offense. Although the tests are generally inadmissible as evidence towards a criminal conviction, they are widely used in treatment of convicted sexual offenders, both in prison and following release under parole.

The test that I am going to be subjected to is known as the penile plethysmograph (PPG) procedure. This procedure measures slight changes in the size of one’s penis in response to certain types of visual and audible sexual stimuli. The equipment is so sensitive that it can measure minute changes in the penis, even if the patient is not aware of it. The stimulus category(ies) with the highest arousal response gives an indication of a person’s erotic preference(s). The test can also identify individuals who manifest high levels of arousal to inappropriate or deviant sexual activity, while displaying low levels of arousal to appropriate sexual activity. The test is highly accurate (95 percent) and very difficult to fake.

The test was originally used by military authorities in communist Czechoslovakia in the late 1950's to identify those military conscripts who were falsely declaring themselves to be gay to avoid the draft. The test had the ability to discriminate between heterosexual and homosexual conscripts. Unfortunately, the test has since been used to identify gay men in countries (mostly Muslin and some African) where homosexuality is illegal.

The most common PPG equipment involves the circumferential type, which measures changes in the girth or thickness of one’s penis using a thin, elastic band that incorporates a strain gauge. As the penis grows, the gauge will expand and record the change.

In preparation for the test, two curved discs will be secured to my fingertips using velcro strips . These will measure galvanic skin response. As a person become anxious, the skin sweats, increasing the galvanic (electric conducting) response. An elastic band will be placed around my chest to monitor breathing. These will be used in conjunction with the penile gauge to measure physiological responses and to expose attempts at faking. Of course, one must refrain from masturbating at least 24 hours before the test. Also, older males like me are usually given sildenafil (the active ingredient in Viagra), which significantly increases the magnitude of the phallic response where there may be erectile disfunction issues.

For the test, I will be seated in a small, private room by myself. I will be required to remove all my clothing. The clinician will assist me in placing the band around my chest and gauge band on my penis midway between the base and tip. After some adjustments and initial data measurements by the clinician, the procedure will begin. The test takes about an hour to complete.

I will hear a recording of some 20 or so erotic stories or fantasies of different sexual encounters, in no particular order, told by a narrator. I will also be shown explicit pictures and video images, coordinated with the stories, which makes a very powerful combination. The idea is to picture myself as the person telling the story, and imagine what the narrator is seeing and feeling. The stories will cover a range of sexual scenarios, representing both heterosexual and homosexual acts, involving both genders, from small children to adults. I may hear occasional beeps (to see that I am paying attention), and be asked to push a button upon hearing the beep. A small camera is focused on my face to ensure I am not closing my eyes or looking away.

I am nervous, since I know that I will be found out. The test begins with both audio narrative and visual images. There are the usual heterosexual scenarios, and I make it through them OK. When it shifts to gay men, I feel myself reacting, and my cock begins to grow, no matter how I try to concentrate on other things. The narrative and photos and videos of men with erections engaging in gay sex are too compelling. I am sweating and breathing hard. I make it through the lesbian scenarios, but, I totally lose control when the scenes shift to cute young boys, naked and in seductive poses. With the Viagra enhancement, I become throbbing steel hard as I gaze at their smooth, nymph-like bodies, delicious little cocks, and inviting virgin asses. I realize that my professional, family-oriented, church-going image will be tarnished by the revelation of my strong homosexual and male pedophile sexual interests.

Results of PPG testing on non-offenders has shown some interesting results. For example, among men who self identify as being strongly homophobic, a large majority exhibit greater penile arousal to stimuli depicting gay sex than non-homophobic men. So, if you are male and claim strong opposition to anything gay, chances are you will experience arousal upon being exposed to explicit homosexual acts. In addition, a certain percentage of non-offending men exhibit some degree of arousal when exposed to sexually deviant stimuli (pedophilia or hebephilia).

The Crucifix - I have been taken captive by an extremist Islamic group, and have been condemned to death by crucifixion. Dating back millennia, it remains a cruel form of execution, and one of only a few with a sexual connotation, since it is carried out in public with the condemned person completely nude to bring about not only a painful death, but a shameful one as well. So, artist’s depictions showing loincloths on those being crucified are intended to protect the modesty of the viewers, rather to depict the actual situation. They were all completely naked, and it was completely public.

In some cases, the condemned person was secured to the crosspiece or post with rope, and in others with iron spikes. The Romans preferred iron spikes. Death was ultimately by asphyxiation, aggravated by shock and blood loss (from pre-crucifixion flogging or castration).

In order to be able to breathe adequately, the condemned had to push up on his feet to relieve the strain on his chest. This was only temporary, because the angle of his legs and the pain in his feet would only allow him to do so for a short period, before he had to resume a hanging position. So, the person would alternately push up, then hang down, in a motion known as “the dance of the cross.” All those crucified did this dance, at least as long as they had breath in them. I will undoubtedly do this dance.

Often, the condemned person’s feet were secured to the outsides of the post with knees slightly bent, so that his legs were open and his genitals were completely exposed, for additional embarrassment. The Islamists are aware of this, and I will be spread for maximum exposure, and for the benefit of the photographers videoing the event.

In order to prolong suffering and postpone death, a crude support known as a sedile was sometimes provided so that the person could obtain some relief from the strain of the awkward position. These were not intended to be comfortable, and were usually made of a wooden shaft or iron rod projecting out from the post to fit in the person’s crotch. An alternate design, known as a cornu (or horn), featured a straight or curved rod with a bulbous knob projecting up an angle from the post. The obvious intent of this was to penetrate the anus of the person, adding to his discomfort and shame. In Roman times, there was nothing more shameful than for an adult male to receive penetrative anal sex. The cornu added to the condemned’s shame. As he did his dance of the cross, he had no choice but to sodomize himself repeatedly on the rod. The motions of the knob in his rectum bearing on his prostate would often bring about an unintentional erection. The executioners carrying out the sentence were no doubt delighted when their design brought about such a result. I am sure that the Islamists, having researched this, will make this their goal.

Crucifixion, as with other forms of execution that result in asphyxiation such as hanging (see below), causes a post-mortem erection in a certain number of instances, known otherwise as a death erection or angel’s lust. This is probably one of the reasons it was conducted publicly in the nude. Some Renaissance artist’s depictions of Christ on the cross show him with an erection, although these were suppressed by the Roman Catholic Church, for obvious reasons. Depending on the crime, the person may be emasculated or castrated (for sexual crimes), or for especially heinous crimes, disemboweled. These are done while the victim is still very much alive, though death is hastened due to loss of blood. The Islamists apparently have this in mind, as I see various knives and curved hook blades nearby.

It is time, and I am stretched out onto the wooden beams. I scream with incredible, searing pain as the hammer drives the iron spikes through my wrists and ankles, securing me in place. I am lifted up, and the main post is dropped into the post hole. I drop onto the sedile, and its knob impales my ass. I soon begin the dance of the cross. The motion of the knob in my ass soon brings an erection. The video camera records it all. Eventually, they will take up the knife and the disembowling hook. I scream with what breath I have remaining as my erect penis and balls are sliced off, and my abdomen is ripped open, spilling my intestines to the ground. I pray for death to come quickly.

The Noose - I have been taken prisoner, convicted of crimes against the state, and sentenced to death by hanging. Hanging can be sexually arousing, especially when the condemned person is hanged in front of others in the nude, like I will be. Death obviously comes much more quickly than with crucifixion, but it still takes several minutes. The process can be prolonged by having the person bound and standing on a small stool with noose around his neck, but without his entire weight on the rope. During this time, he can be subjected to various punishments and sexual tortures –flogging, genital electroshock, or branding. Any movement to try and avoid or minimize the torture would likely cause him to fall off the stool, bringing about death by strangulation, which is the ultimate objective.

The other thing that makes hanging sexually arousing is that, in many cases involving suspension hanging (as opposed to long drop hanging), the hanged person ends up with a prominent erection, as described above for crucifixion. Spinal cord injuries or injuries that put pressure on the cerebellum usually produce priapism, a prolonged erection in the absence of stimulation. This is almost always the case for young, healthy males. So, artist’s depictions of hanged persons with full erections are not the thing of fantasy, but are reflections of reality. Furthermore, in a certain number of these cases, there may also be ejaculation of seminal fluid. In fact, in at least one novel, the protagonist (a sexual predator) selects young men for nude hanging just so he can experience sexual catharsis at the moment of his victim’s death, when he sucks the deceased victim’s post-mortem erection and extracts their seminal fluid while masturbating.

When the time comes, I am stripped naked, my hands are tied behind me, and I am blindfolded. I am made to stand on a stool, the rope noose is placed around my neck, and the slack is taken out. I cry out as I feel the burning lash of a bullwhip. It tears at my cock and balls. I instinctively want to bend down due to the pain, but I cannot without the noose tightening. My body jerks to try and avoid the pain, the stool tips, then falls. The noose tightens, and I cannot breathe. Blackness soon overtakes me. My erection rises, and my seminal fluid begins to flow. By then, I am unable to feel the mouth of the executioner sucking cum from my hard cock.

The Swamp I am turned on by anything that resembles a phallic image. One such thing involves the knees of cypress trees, the vertical woody projections of the roots that rise up from the ground around the trees, usually at the edge of or in a swampy area. I sometimes to go a particular swamp that features many cypress trees, and of course, cypress knees. I have picked out a secluded spot by the edge of the swamp, and found a narrow knee that projects about a foot above the moist ground. I have removed the scaly bark and have polished the phallic member using sandpapar, so that it is smooth and rounded.

When I enter my sacred spot, I strip naked, apply mosquito repellant, lubricate the knee, and kneel down, squatting over the bulbous, knobby head of the knee. I lower myself onto the projection, imagining it is a large cock. I grown aloud as I slowly move down and my hungry ass consumes more and more of the natural dildo. I am finally bottomed out, and I raise my hands and begin to move, invoking the demon spirits of the swamp to fill me and possess me. I cry aloud as I sodomize myself on the cock-like shaft. Soon, I am lost in ecstatic pleasure, writhing on the pleasure rod. My cock is oozing with precum. I cry out the names of sexual demons, wanting to unite with them.

[Author’s Note: Demons are spirit beings, and unfortunately have no body. So, for them to experience sexual pleasure, they need a body to inhabit. That is why I invoke the demons of gay sex and sodomy to enter me and use my body as their abode, so as to share in the intense sexual pleasures that I feel.]

My moment of consummation nears, and suddenly my sacred semen boils up and erupts in a hands-free ejaculation. My orgasmic groan echoes out through the swamp. My cock continues to jerk as my orgasmic spasms cause my sphincter muscles to grip the hard root deep inside me.

I slowly slide off the knee, then lean down and lick my cum off of the leaves on the ground, then suck and lick my anal secretions off of the slick wooden shaft. I am glad that I have given the demons gay pleasures once again, and I dismiss them back to the swamp. I dress and depart, having appeased the demons of the swamp for the time being.

Worshiping Baal-Peor - I am a disciple of Baal-Peor, an ancient Moabite deity. The word Baal means lord, and the word Peor comes from a root pa’ar, meaning opening. So, he is lord of the opening or hole. In this case, the primary opening is the human anal or rectal opening, and worship before his image in his temple often involved defecation. Everything that is excreted from the body (semen, urine, feces) before him is symbolically sacred, and therefore was not to be spilled or wasted, but rather consumed in ritual worship. The sexual practices are intended to arouse Baal to action on behalf of his adherents.

I will go to a sacred place, typically a small secluded clearing in a grove, where I will strip naked and impale myself on a thick phallic rod embedded in the ground in the center of the grove. This has is sometimes referred to as an Asherah pole, used in worship of Asherah, another Canaanite deity. I move seductively on the pole as I raise my hands to Baal-Peor, calling out and invoking the presence of his demon spirits to participate in worship with me. I will make and consume three offerings to him.

I slide off the pole, and squat down over a bowl on the ground. After a few moments of incantations, I defecate a small piece of feces into the bowl. I raise the bowl up to Baal, and then empty the bowl into my mouth, quickly consuming its contents. I then put the bowl down for my second offering and kneel before it. After more incantations, I fill the bowl with my hot, bitter, golden liquid. This I also raise to Baal, before drinking all its contents. I put the bowl back down, in preparation for my third offering.

[Author’s Note: Assuming you are healthy, you won’t get sick off of your own fecal matter. The practice is referred to as coprophagia. Roughly 18 % of the male population has tried this, including a majority of those who have tried bestiality. Similarly, urine from a healthy individual is sterile, and will not harm you.]

I kneel before the bowl and begin to masturbate, using my left hand. With my right hand I insert a wetted finger into my hole and touch my special place. I offer incantations praising Baal as my lord, and lord of my hole. I rededicate my hole to him. My hand moves in conjunction with my finger, increasing my pleasure. Soon, I cry aloud as I ejaculate holy semen into the bowl, my final offering, as my hole spasms in contractions around my finger. This too I raise to my lips and drink it all down.

At the conclusion of the rite, I remove my finger from my hole, and lick it clean. I dress and depart the grove until the next worship is required.

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wolfie-rood · 6 years ago

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Failure is Not an Option - Vaati x Reader ONESHOT

Wow, this was long as fuck. I really love Vaati, can ya tell? To be honest, this was a bit on the fluffy side, which might be a little out of character for our lovely mage. The reason for that is I wrote this in the same mindset as one of my OC's who is Vaati's closest attendant and friend (Though, their relationship is purely platonic). Her and Vaati get along better than milk and cereal, so they are pretty damn fluffy when nobody else is around. So, I mean, sorry for all the fluff this is my excuse??

Nahhh I'm never sorry for sweet fluffy Vaati!

-----

Limping down the dim candlelit hallway, you swore angrily under your breath. "That son of a bitch... Where is he?" In the far corners of your mind, you could sense a dark aura coming from Vaati's study at the end of the hall, so you picked up the pace to confront him. Then you slammed the door open with rage burning in your eyes. "Hey, asshole!" You yelled, gaining the attention of the sorcerer across the room.

Vaati sighed and looked up from his book. He took notice of your large burn marks and blood-covered figure but said nothing about it. "What now?" He asked with a bored expression. Obviously, he wasn't too happy about being interrupted so late at night.

"'What now'? Your fucking Wizzrobe buddies are getting on my last nerves!" You screamed in response. You could still hear their cackling in the distance "I just killed one of those fuckers, so don't blame me when they all end up dead by the end of the week!"

The wind mage's newly appointed (and extremely irritating) servants were starting to get violent, and even he could see that. Still, they were highly advanced in magic and it wasn't exactly easy getting them to the palace in the first place. Vaati was well aware of how much trouble they were for you, but he also knew they could be useful to him. He was hoping the benefits outweighed the consequences and that his efforts weren't just a waste of time. It was certainly starting to look that way, though. Especially after you barged in with multiple wounds and blood-stained clothes.

But even after seeing his faithful attendant in such disarray, he refused to admit he was wrong. "If you truly hate them that much, just avoid them," Vaati said dismissively. "Nobody told you to watch over them."

"Because nobody had to! They destroy everything in their path and then they think it's funny! When your palace goes up in smoke, you'll only have yourself to blame." You growled. With that, you left the room; slamming the door on your way out.

When you woke the next morning, you took your time fixing the bandages around your stomach and repatch your arm. Then, you downed a red potion just in case. Your wounds weren't as bad as they looked, but they could easily get infected if you didn't take care of them. You were immortal, not invincible. Once you were done taking care of your injuries and changing into clean clothes, you left the bedroom to start your morning.

In the large dining room, only two seats at the table were set for breakfast. A ghost of a smile crossed your lips when you realized Vaati had woken before you. Usually, you were the first to wake up and make something to eat, but it seems your master had you beat that day. "Enjoy sleeping in?"

You turned around to see Vaati carrying two plates of food from the kitchen. "I've actually been up for a while now." Then you gestured to your bandaged arm. "I had to fix these before I did anything else."

The mage walked past you to the table, subtly eyeing your injuries with a hint of guilt. Before you could notice, he turned away and placed your food on the table. You quickly sat down and started eating as Vaati just sat across from you. You were a bit surprised he could even cook since you've only ever eaten food made by you, but you weren't disappointed.

The room was quiet besides the tinking of silverware against the plates. You and Vaati usually enjoyed each other's company, even if neither of you talked (of course, the mage would never admit it out loud because of his deafening pride). But right now, it was almost an awkward silence. After your outburst last night, you were finding it difficult to start a conversation.

Usually, if someone were to even question Vaati's motives, they'd be killed on the spot. But the sorcerer was quite fond of you and would find it unfortunate if you were to die. At that thought, Vaati looked up at you only to find you were already staring at him intently. Great, now it's even more awkward...

Before you could figure out something to talk about, Vaati cleared his throat and decided to speak up first. "How are they? Your wounds, I mean."

"Oh, I'll live." You replied casually. Then you smirked. "You should see the other guy."

Vaati grinned slyly in response. "I did and I must say, it wasn't your best work."

"Oh, bullshit!" You accused with a laugh. You welcomed the happy feeling that drowned out the emotions from last night.

He shook his head with a devious smile. His crimson eyes narrowed at you. "Remember the poor guy from Labrynna?"

"Oooooh, that was the one that got messy. He should've never called for help..." You cringed, remembering just how much blood there was. "How about the chick from Holodrum? That was pretty bad, too."

Vaati chuckled slightly to himself. "That was a fun one."

You laughed and nodded in agreement. "We really should get out more. All the entertainment is out there."

"We'll do something soon. I know how you get when I keep you inside for too long. You're already starting to get... excited."

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. "What, did the dead Wizzrobe by the palace entrance give it away?"

"It might've been a small hint."

The two of you went back and forth for most of the morning. It was nice to just forget about your differences for a few hours. You and Vaati were extremely close, and you only fought on rare occasions. To put it simply, you were his right-hand man willing to take an arrow for him. You really would do anything for him, to be honest. It was certainly a... complicated relationship you two had.

At some point during your conversation - long after the two of you finished eating - you heard a loud crash on the other side of the castle. Now, you were both on full alert. Vaati was the first to leave the dining room, you followed close behind.

Just outside the library was a huge mess of books littered throughout the hall. Some were even ripped up a bit. Pages were hanging on the walls like party banners. In the center of all the chaos was a single shattered vase. What didn't surprise you one bit was the sight of all the Wizzrobes sitting around the mess, giggling like children.

You shook your head, giving Vaati the "I fucking told you so" look. He scoffed at you and went ahead to confront his "servants". "What do you think you're doing?" He said in such a quiet voice, it almost scared even you.

One of the ice Wizzrobes spoke up with a laugh. "Kehahah! We're just having some fun!" It exclaimed, like having some fun was a valid excuse for emptying out the library. "Though if we're pinning blame on anyone, it was the summoner! Kehahahahah!!!"

"I don't care who did it!" He boomed with suppressed rage in his eyes. "Clean it! Now!" Before he could let his anger get the best of him, he vanished with a gust of wind.

As soon as Vaati was out of sight, the Wizzrobes looked at you expectantly. "Well? You heard him! Snap to it! Kehahahaha!!"

"Funny, but I think no." You turned away with an eye roll and began to leave. There was no point in trying to reason with them. It was better to just walk away.

You didn't get very far though, as a fire Wizzrobe thought it would be funny to burn you with its fireball spell. You weren't amused in the slightest, but the others thought it was absolutely hilarious.

You rubbed your burnt arm while giving the fire Wizzrobe your killer glare. "So that's how it's gonna be? Fine." Holding out your hand, a dark rapier appeared for you to grasp with confidence. "I'll play."

At first, you were fighting well on your own, especially against a large group of advanced magic users. A couple of the ice Wizzrobes collapsed onto the ground, dead. It was a good start, but the burns and frostbite, as well as the blood dripping down your arms, was becoming a concern.

That's when the tables turned and a fire Wizzrobe blasted you to the ground. At that point, you really couldn't tell whose spells were whose. All you knew was that it was so painful you could hardly breathe. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry out in agony, but you knew better. Showing any negative emotion would give them the satisfaction, and you refused to let them have it. Plus, if Vaati heard you, you might as well just throw yourself off the Palace's edge. He could not see you in such a weak position, you wouldn't allow yourself to be a failure in front of him.

Still, you had no way of defending yourself, so all you could do was endure the pain until they gave up. Your vision slowly became blurred around the edges and your body felt numb. All the while, they laughed like there was no tomorrow.

Then it all... stopped.

The pain had ended, and the cackling had stopped. Your eyes cleared up just enough to see a purple cape drag in front of you.

"I think we're done here." He growled. "Leave now."

The Wizzrobes sighed and shrugged at each other. "Kehaha! Whatever you say, my lord!" The ice Wizzrobe exclaimed, its voice dripping with sarcasm. With that, they all disappeared together.

As soon as they were gone, you sighed in relief and relaxed your pained muscles on the ground. You took in a deep breath and tried to focus on anything but the scorching pain across your body. You could feel blood dripping down your neck, but you were too relieved to care. They're finally gone...

Vaati stared at you for a moment, his red eyes filled with regret. Hesitantly, he slid his arm under your knees and back, lifting you from the ground. You leaned your head on his chest as he carried you through the castle. Neither of you spoke while he took you into the bathroom. A trail of blood was made by your scarlet liquid that dripped from your arm, but Vaati didn't seem to care about the mess.

The mage carried you into a simplistic bathroom and gently put you down on the edge of the tub. Then, he removed his cape to keep it out of the way. The water started running behind you, but you couldn't really pay attention to anything. All you could feel was the shattering defeat in your heart. You got beaten half to death and your master had to save you... how pathetic.

Instead of feeling the crushing failure, you decided to feel... nothing. You let your mind drift away completely. That way, you could somehow be at peace with yourself. You hid any sort of feeling or emotion in your metaphorical boat of solitude. There, they would be shot on sight; never to bother you again.

The small part of your mind that wasn't dead was screaming at you to pay attention. Probably because the mage in front of you was quickly stripping you of your bloodied clothes. He wasted no time taking everything off and tossing it to the side. Though, Vaati wasn't exactly worried about your indecency. In fact, it was the last thing on his mind when he picked you back up to place you in the filled tub.

Slowly, he ran his hands through your hair, washing out some of the dried blood. Your locks were clumped together because of the dark red liquid, but you only stared ahead at the wall. You felt almost lifeless, you didn't even wince when his fingers grazed over one of your burns. It was so hard for you to accept the events of today. The two of you understood that you were a servant to Vaati before anything else, so failing in front of your master was such a sickening feeling that you could hardly breathe. A part of you wished you had been killed by the Wizzrobes. It would be much easier than having to deal with the wrath of your master.

As Vaati washed the blood out of your hair, all he could think about was the strange feeling in his chest. It was hard to find a way of describing it, but the word guilt kept coming up in his mind. He knew you were beating yourself up over the failure, but Vaati was more worried about you. He really did care about you, even if he had a strange way of showing it. He was standoffish and too proud for his own good, but he always had time for you.

"Turn around." He said in a surprisingly soft voice. You did as he said and turned to face him. He raised his hands up and started rubbing the blood off your face. You stared at him, but your gaze was so far off into space it was like you weren't even there. Vaati did his best to ignore it, but your pity party was starting to get on his nerves. He sighed irritatingly and stood up. "Finish up here. I'll find you something to wear."

Vaati grabbed his cape on the way out the door, and you were left alone. You let water drain, but you didn't move. You sat in silence with your knees pulled into your chest. Your mind wasn't working properly, and all you could think of was how much you hated yourself at that moment. There was so much self-hate in the corner of your mind that it consumed you.

"(Name)," Vaati called once he returned. "Get up."

You didn't even move an inch. Vaati glared at you even though he knew he wasn't mad. It was just difficult for him to show how he truly felt. He went up to the tub and took your hand. Slowly, you got off the floor and stepped out of the empty bath.

"Get dressed, (Name)." He commanded lightly. You didn't respond but instead just grabbed your clothes and began putting them on. Once you were done, you stared at him almost expectantly, but your eyes were completely devoid of any emotion. He noticed how unsteady your legs were, so he decided to pick you up again. He carried you back to your room without a word.

Shutting the door with his foot, he sat you down on your bed, handing you a bottle of red potion. You turned away from it, you didn't deserve it. It was your fault you were in the situation so you would live with your wounds and scars the way you wanted.

"Take it, (Name)." He commanded a little harsher than he intended. "Take it before I shove it down your throat."

Finally, you grasped the bottle and downed the drink, cringing slightly at the taste. As soon as your wounds started to heal and Vaati knew you'd be fine, you felt a sharp pain across your face. Glancing up, you caught Vaati rubbing the back of his hand, which was now turning red. "Stop that right now!" He yelled, finally fed up with you. "I will not have you sulking around anymore! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, that's an order!"

You stared at him in shock, not really sure how to feel. "I-I... um." Your mouth kept opening to say something, but your mind was still completely barren. Though, Vaati was smart enough to know what he was doing. It was hard to hate yourself when you were so taken aback by his sudden anger.

Vaati looked around with an annoyed expression before crouching in front of you. Even though he sat right in front of you, he hid his eyes with his hair. It was as though he was... ashamed. "I... I need you to stop. As my attendant, you are supposed to give me advice on how I should do things. When you warned me about the Wizzrobes, I... I should've listened to you."

You watched with wide eyes as his hand came up to caress your cheek. "What happened today was my fault, so stop moping already." Vaati finally looked at you with a playful smirk. "You've done worse than this, so just move on."

You wiped a few stray tears away and frowned. "I have not." You muttered like a child.

"Oh, so I guess you forgot the time you set me on fire."

With a small giggle, you rolled your eyes. "I won't apologize for that because it was hilarious."

"Of course it was..." He grumbled.

You smiled at his reaction, and you were actually starting to feel better. Even after what happened earlier, you could still be happy. "Hey, Vaati?" You asked, and he hummed questioningly. "Thank you."

"... Well, someone has to watch over you." He sighed and stood up. "Days like this make me wish it wasn't me... Come on, let's go wreak havoc somewhere."

You hopped up with joy. "Yay!"

You followed behind the Vaati with a large grin spread across your face, the mage hiding a smile of his own. Finally, you could breathe your silent sigh of relief.

#oneshot #x reader #VAATI #Wind mage #vaati the wind mage #SO MUCH LOVE FOR THIS BOY #LOVE HIM WITH MEEEE #AHHHHH #loz #legend of zelda #zelda #VAATIII #VAATIIIIII

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itallstartedwithharry · 5 years ago

Text

Self Care (Loki/Loki, M)

Summary: Lost and alone in the Void, tormented by his captors, Loki is desperate for comfort and gets it from a surprising source.

Warnings: mention of torture, thoughts of suicide, angst, clonecest, selfcest

Shout out to gaslightgallows and EndlessStairway, whose works inspired me to try writing Loki for myself! If you haven't checked our their fic you definitely should!

***

Read on AO3

Time seemed not to operate in this pocket dimension of the universe. Sometimes Loki would fight rising despair after having been left alone for weeks, and the next second be groaning and heaving as if he had just been thrown in after meeting with The Other. Exactly what happened when he was outside this…cell? space? prison? was unclear. Any attempt to focus on The Other or the being he served felt as though his mind was fracturing into pieces. It triggered sensations of burning heat, of a will so strong it pressed and re-shaped the atoms of his form. It was enough to send Loki into a mental spiral and panic attack. He could no longer differentiate between which memories were real and which were implanted horrors.

This left him with few options. He couldn’t think of the only sentient life form he had seen since he fell from the bifrost. Couldn’t think of Tho-. No. Certainly not him. In this realm there was only excruciating pain and less pain. His current state of being was the latter, for which he was grateful.

There was a surface on which he lay, with a wall supporting him - whether either was real did not matter; he appreciated any level of comfort it provided. He tried to focus on something, anything, to anchor him to reality while simultaneously flinching away from any memory or thought that strayed too close to the true horror of his situation. Being surrounded by so much nothing was overwhelmingly emptying. Fleeting recollections of warmth, of connection, were almost too much to bear.

Throughout Loki’s life, his need to feel appreciated was as great as the extent to which he tried to hide it - anything Odin could consider a weakness cost him in the eyes of the court. But in this moment Loki would take all of Odin’s dismissiveness and the judgments of the nobles for one kind touch. With every full-body shudder, with every too-long gap in his memory, he desperately wanted to be comforted. He lay there, muscles spasming, face sweating, and wishing that he had perished in the void instead of falling into the thrall of - do not think of him do NOT think of him. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, trying not to cry even as his soul screamed out for it to end.

A gentle hand floated over his cheek and brushed away the one tear that had escaped.

Loki froze and opened his eyes with a gasp. Hovering over him, with an expression of gentle sympathy, was himself.

It wasn’t seeing the clone that disturbed him; creating illusions of himself was a trick he mastered early on to play tricks on the servants and his brother. And due to his deep understanding of and connection to his seidr, it wasn’t entirely unusual for some of his magic to occur with timing bordering on precognition. But in this space, he wouldn’t have expected his powers to be effective. His immediate attempts to escape had quickly proven futile - but then again, this apparition did not appear intent on escape.

The simulacrum leaned forward, pressing several gentle kisses from the side of his head to the side of his mouth before leaning back as if to gauge Loki’s reaction. As the double tilted his head in question, Loki found his shock fade to embarrassed curiosity. His pulse quickened in anticipation as the simulacrum’s lips met his own, the warmth and kindness bringing a sting behind his eyes.

The pang of sadness was soon replaced by breathlessness as the kiss deepened, tongues moving in between gasps and soft smacking of lips. Loki felt warmth, for the first time in this prison dimension. Not the searing heat that tortured his limitations as Jotun, but an internal glow from feeling safe and wanted. The clone rose up again, shaking his hair back in a way Loki was very familiar with before his shirt shimmered away. Once again an eyebrow was raised in challenge, and this time Loki gave as good as he got. He had already thrown caution to the winds, why not see it through to the hopefully pleasurable end? Attempting a smirk of his own, Loki willed his clothes to disappear, underthings and all. He convinced himself that his expression didn’t reveal the excitement and hopeful anticipation of approval.

A pleased hum came from the simulacrum, and he ran hands down Loki’s arms before gently pinning his wrists down with soft pressure and bending to lick over a nipple. Tension shot through Loki as a first instinct, and he prepared to clench his fists and send a shockwave to throw aside everything surrounding him.

“Shhhh,” the clone soothed, making eye contact. Trust me. Trust yourself. The words came softly into Loki’s mind. There were so many reasons to doubt his safety and sanity at the present, and yet…his seidr felt nothing but peace. Loki pressed his lips together, one corner quirking up, and nodded.

“Okay,” he spoke to his mirror image in a whisper, then inhaled sharply as teeth brought each nipple to attention. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to accept the sensation, keeping his hands still even when the simulacrum began to work his way down Loki’s body. No secret spot or sensitive area was overlooked, with kisses and love bites showering down from his insistent lover.

“Can I-?” Loki breathed before biting his lip.

In a snap, the two were nose to nose, the simulacrum’s eyes pleased. Almost in unison, both men smirked before Loki surged to close the distance between them, hands tangling in his clone’s hair and pushing their hips together. Any sound Loki would make caught in his throat with the rough pleasure of his bare cock against the silken fabric. Dual panting was the only noise in the space, until Loki growled in displeasure as his clone lifted off.

Shaking his head, his mirror image dismissed any remaining clothes with a gesture and walked forward on his knees. Suddenly, Loki was confronted by his own cock, hard and shining at the tip. Admittedly, it was a handsome cock, and he couldn't help but feel a slight ego boost. But then he reached out his tongue to taste himself and twin satisfied groans pushed coherent thought aside. He explored the texture of the tip as the clone made small aborted thrusts, relishing in the tang of precome. A sharp pain on his head caused Loki’s eyes to refocus on the clone, who had one hand wrapped around Loki’s hair as he pushed forward slightly to signal his intent.

Loki brought his hands, which had come up to rest on the clone’s thighs, shakily back to the ground. He took a breath, though it technically wasn’t needed, and relaxed his jaw. Almost immediately his mouth was invaded by the forceful press of his own cock. The simulacrum did not hold back, and Loki couldn’t take his eyes away from the flushed face thrown up in pleasure. Though Loki didn’t have a gag reflex to speak of, there was a deep intimacy in feeling his throat clench around each intrusion, his own balls slapping at his chin. The rhythm was almost hypnotic, and Loki groaned as the clone pulled him flush to his hips, holding there before releasing him entirely. Breathing heavily with saliva and precome down his chin, Loki watched as his clone brought a hand to lift one of Loki’s legs with clear intention.

Loki tensed on instinct. It was ironic in a way, to be afraid of pain when he had experienced indescribable tortures in this hell. But the concept of being hurt there, in such a private place, made his heart freeze.

Frowning in understanding, the double clicked his tongue and placed a delicate fingertip to Loki’s hole. Loki let out a surprised exhale at the release of tension and the large cool droplet sliding between his ass cheeks. It was quickly followed by two fingers, slick and magic pressing gently and insistently inside in a combination not often attained by past bedmates.

For once, the absence of time was a gift, and Loki alternated between gazing at his lover’s intent, kind face and closing his eyes to bask in the rhythmic motion of familiar long fingers pressing and rubbing against his inner walls. He let out a moan, purely of pleasure, as three fingers speared him and his clone leaned in close.

It’s time. Let me in.

Without any further need for communication, Loki slowly turned over on his hands and knees as the fingers slowly withdrew. The discomfort of emptiness was quickly replaced by a smooth cock stretching him perfectly, slow enough that he felt the pressure along with the pleasure. And the length! When the simulacrum pulled back and thrust hard, Loki saw stars and squeezed around the thick cock to intensify the sensation.

Give in.

And he did. Loki let his head hang and didn’t hold back any sound as his clone gave him everything. It wasn’t gentle, yet every hard thrust was exactly what Loki wanted and needed. It was freedom, as close to it as realistically possible. As his elbows gave way and he lowered his upper body to the ground, Loki moaned anew at the new angle. There was no shame, humiliation or pain, just a breathless high he had often sought but rarely found in Asgard.

His clone growled and pressed his body flush against him, speeding up. Loki and his double both gasped as the clone came, hot in his ass. It was as if the orgasm was shared between them.

Good job, so good.

Loki tried not to show his joy at the affection coming from the words in his head. His face scrunched as the soft cock slipped from his ass and the clone turned them into a spooning position. Loki inhaled sharply as fingers replaced the cock, feeling the clone’s come slipping out of his hole as the fingers targeted his sensitive spots with furious precision. Frost Giants had internal anatomy that differed from the Aesir, and no bedsport partner back on Asgard had known what to look for. Neither had Loki himself, for that matter.

But the simulacrum…Loki’s mirror image knew him intimately, inside and out. Every jab of his long fingers pressed a spot that made Loki see stars. The clone had one arm wrapped around Loki’s front, pulling them close so Loki could lay his head back on his shoulder. The pleasure rose as Loki panted, arching his back from the sharp sensation. The hand on his chest slid down to grasp his cock, and with only a few strokes Loki was coming.

His cock pulsed and he cried out, not in pain but in relief as come shot up his chest. The clone pushed him through it, fingers and stroking continuing until Loki almost couldn’t stand it any more. He was floating, not the dissociation to escape from torture he was all too familiar with, but the headspace of knowing you were safe and taken care of.

“Don’t leave.”

Loki’s whisper was quiet, eyes closed against the shame. Terrified for the solid presence behind him to disappear and leave him alone in the emptiness once again.

Let yourself go, I’m here. I’m always here.

The rhythm of their breaths synchronized to a slow, peaceful lull, the simulacrum still holding Loki tightly. For once, fear of what would happen in next minute was gone. His muscles were relaxed, his ass tingled pleasantly from intimate use, and soft kisses were pressed on his neck.

He drifted off to sleep. Safe.

#mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki #loki angst #loki x loki #itallstartedwithharry writes #loki's clones #hurt/comfort #Loki fanfic #marvel fanfic

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siremasterlawrence · 6 years ago

Text

How To Tame A Superhero.

I felt a cool cold draft as I turn to see Superman staring down at me from the sky. He looks down with this serious look on his face and he was not happy with me it was very clear. He floats down from the sky as he lands on my veranda in cool temp. I walk over to him as he grabs my collar tightly.

“Who do I have to thank for the honor of seeing you here? “ I ask slyly. “I hear that you have some great power that you unleashed on the city. This is my home turf do not defy me again and don’t ever expect me to think twice about stopping you.” He says to me frankly.

I roll my eyes as he floats me back down as he lets go of my collar. He turns around as I launch a bullet at him. He turns to me angrily as he catches the bullet an it dissolve into gas. The gas surrounds him as he suffocates to the ground an I kick him. I pull him up as I kick him in the stomach an laugh at his pain.

I take his collar from the back of his cape pulling inside as I turn the lock close behind me. I sit on the bed staring at him as he manages with little help to look up. “Where did you get kryptonite from you bastard?” He ask me with a weak look. “Now Superman you like my power I can use anything to mold whoever I desire.” I say to him.

I look at him with such excitement as he fell to the ground face down.I turn him over as I close his eyes an watch as I touch his face with my hand. I kiss his lips more then once before I kick him again and I whisper my undying desire for him. I inject my blood into his ass

I pull out the needle for him as I watch him shake.“My love wake up now from that so called life you live and meet your new maker. He starts to stir lifting up off the floor an I push him into the nearest chair. He is rubbing his eyes as he begin to yawn before he sighs. “What is it with these people demanding me to always save the day?” He ask me.

He sits up staring at me waiting for an answer as I start actually feeling sorry for him. “You are not Clark are you?” I ask as he looks shocked that I knew he was not him. “Yes I know let me guess you are the amalgamation of Clark’s Id and subconscious”I say to him. I kiss him tenderly as he returns it back.

He looks in awe at me with a smirk as he felt something inside like he never has before. “Yes that is me my king and I am glad you know that.” He say to me seriously with no fear. “Let me guess you are the part of Clark’s he has suppress for so long till now. Well this who you are I knew it along no hero is really a hero.” I say to him.

Clark crawls a bit as he struggles but fights back out and he runs out of the window. He jumps over the veranda as he flies off in fear.

I laugh hysterically at him as he is faced by the worst fear ever. I sit on my chair in shear delight as I call all of Clark’s nemesis. I walk out of the apartment heading to Lex Corp.

I pull out a grabble hook as I throw it to main office and I climb up to the top of the building. I jump into the window as Lex was waiting for me. He claps his hands as if you

to say congrats but I beat you at your own game. I burst into crazy bout of laughter when his servant Marcy waltzes in.

I am so amaze as my new Slave Marcy pulls a gun on him. “Are you crazy Marcy?” He asks her.“Marcy belongs to me now Lex but don’t worry all of you will soon be going to same place.” I angrily say. I point as Marcy twist Lex on the elevator down. At the Lex Corp basement they joins all the other foes.

“Well thank you for coming you are making this so much easier for me. After tonight your greatest for will be no more then a bug under your feet.” I say as they all steal glances at each other. I stand by a long lever as I pull it the stand is shaking. It lifts up as the room has a time bomb about to go off.

They watch in horror as they it is reaching one before the explosion erupts. I satisfactorily enjoy the humongous display of fire an hide to see Supes reaction. Clark has finally arrived minutes too late as he sees the fire. He uses his super breath to extinguish it but they are all dead. He began to cry as tears formed in his eyes he was broken.

In minutes a loud scream breaks out shockingly out of his mouth shattering windows like a howl an he falls to his knees. I quickly jump into the helicopter parked on the roof as we jet off. I was in heaven because I was the one to break Superman. I relaxed in my grand hotel apartment as I felt a draft on me.

“Well look who it is fancy seeing you here again. Not too soon at all I might add but enlighten me why you are here.” I say knowing he will take my bait. “You win I try to fight you but I can’t win I am weak the mind truly is the most amazing organ. You are powerful beyond my words and I want to be yours.” He says.

I walk to him the former Superman strong in body but nothing but a husk is left. I walk towards his as he kneels at my feet grabbing my waist. “Look up at me man of steel stop the frowning an look at me you fool. This is what happens to people who play hero’s they are easily manipulated.” I drop the bomb of words to his shock.

He felt it as he looks up at me that was it sometime broke in his mind.He felt lighter as his thoughts are no more and he felt so fulfilled as he waited for commands. I put my hand on his head as he moans in pleasure. He felt the last pieces of freedom disappear and I hear a scream come outs as he cummed Clark Kent and Superman out.

“My name is Kal-el son of Master Lawrence and Superman is at all of your beck an calls forever. I am nothing but tool for serving you thank you for my freedom my king. My Id, subconscious and what was left of my conscience have been erased. I am all that matters an all that you want please don’t ever leave me.” He says.

I command him to rise to his feet as he pulls me into a kiss while he saw himself on the screen. He was utterly deplorable as the man of steel self proclaimed protector of the world. He rolls his eyes before destroying the television with one blast of his heat vision. He returns to my lips as he thinks about all the wasted years of his life.

He turns back into Clark Kent for a night out but looks so confused in the mirror. I take off his glasses an drop them to floor. “Break those glasses now.” I order him. He obey me with such ease as he looks at me and than back up. An he was so happy with what he sees in the mirror. We head out freeing a deep connection that he will always be very grateful for.

The end.

What did you guys think? Should I continue this?

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shadow-emerald-gold · 6 years ago

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My Heart (Michael Langdon x Reader)

I’m just going to slip right in and leave this here. Nothing like some good Antichrist in the morning to go with your coffee- especially a dramatic icon like Michael.

This takes place during the early weeks of the apocalypse where Michael is feeling less than fulfilled about his achievement. So, he decides to talk to his father in an attempt to gain answers about how he feels.

Being the child of Satan sounds like a vague plot device that horror movies and books have no issue exploiting.

However, it was reality for a young man named Michael Langdon who had successfully brought about the destruction of the world without an instruction manual. Everything had so perfectly fallen into place that it felt too much like a daydream to the son of Satan. It was a wonderful feeling to have single-handedly destroy the very empire of man. People either bowed before him, begged before him or died before him and it was all at the flick of his hands. Michael Langdon was the master of his own destiny and that played on repeat in his head for weeks until it began to wear off…

The Sanctuary was a terribly boring place in Michael’s opinion. He watched his father’s followers shuffle about the halls, preparing for the new world governed by the Antichrist’s plans, all without acknowledging that he was there. The young man had received no new commands from his father nor was there really a need to rush. The world had ended. Big whoop. What now? Michael had to wait for the dust to settle so he could start toying with humanity again, but it was torture to be patient. At times, he would sit in his room and watch the fire as his slender fingers weaved through his longer hair. Ms Mead had suggested reading a book, so he read every one in the small library. He even read over the business files that had been kept for future reference. The Antichrist practiced his power, often exerting it over the servant staff, but that soon grew tiresome when he realised that there was no rival to challenge him. It also frightened away the maids from cleaning his quarters.

It was his birthday when the deafening silence that was hollowing out his bones finally broke him. Michael snapped as easily as a twig as a voice in the back of his mind simply whispered,‘I’m lonely.’

How pitiful, he thought immediately after, the destroyer of man is lonely.

He did not argue however, his heart aching as if it were being clenched between two hands. What was the point of denying it? Only the fire will ever know his true feelings that were locked away in some childish prison tucked nicely behind all of his memories.

“You look more miserable each and every day,” Mead chuckled from the threshold of the door, “what ever happened to that perky son of Satan?”

He waved her comment off, mumbling something under his breath before turning to her. She held a black box that was tied up professionally with red ribbon. It was as if she had managed to find a retail store after the whole apocalypse that was still open. Michael smiled slightly as she came closer and placed it down on the coffee table before him.

“Happy Birthday, Michael.”

The box was opened in seconds and in it was a striking, deep red coat that was weaved with the embers of Hell. Soft to the touch and so richly designed, the Antichrist held it up before slipping it on.

“Perfect,” Mead beamed, adjusting the shoulders, “do you like it?”

“I love it,” he replied keenly.

“Hopefully this perk you up a bit. The others are getting a tad worried that you might be conspiring against them.”

Michael laughed quietly, “always.”

She left him after that, declaring that they will have a bountiful feast prepared in celebration, but he only slumped back into his seat- now feeling marginally more beautiful than he did before. It sure would be nice to have someone else compliment him for once. He tried forcing that onto one of the maids, only asking for her opinion on a new shirt, but it ended up with her broken body at the bottom of the stairs. Before you assume anything, it was not his fault this time. She panicked after thinking that she had offended that Antichrist and tried to run away before slipping and falling down the stairs in the most horrifying yet entertaining way he had ever witnessed. It was borderline comical until she did not move.

He felt the velvet of the coat and grumbled at the memory. Everyone was scared of him. Nobody wanted to talk to him unless they absolutely had to. It was always like that since day fucking one. He could feel his blood boil and before he could think otherwise, he was stomping down the hallway, fists clenching and teeth grating. He was going to speak to his father whether the parent wanted that or not. Passing by people, almost like a shadow, Michael instructed one of the servants to alert Ms Mead that he will be in the Ritual Room and no one is to enter until he comes out.

He undressed rapidly, throwing his clothes onto the ground in frustration as the candles came to life around him. They dwindled in his presence for they knew who he was as flickering shadows creeped up the unnaturally smooth walls. He was cursing in Latin now, stepping into the circle as he drew the blade across his flesh and drawing blood. His emotions, the overwhelming hollowness in his mind, dulled the pain to the point where it was merely a faint throbbing- a distant thought to the profanities in his head. His voice died into a whisper, words begging for his father descending into Hell as Michael began to lose himself, giving himself entirely to the moment- his power oozing with the blood that he smeared into a pentagram. Strangely, it was a beautiful sight to see a devil crafted as an angel draw himself into the darker dreams of forbidden knowledge. The humming yellow light of the candles, a choir of tiny demons, singing to his rule over the mortal world. It was something he had felt many times in this past but this time it didn’t matter. Nothing did but only the attention of his father. He received it.

Shuddering, Michael opened his eyes in the world of eternal punishment, the candles becoming an inferno that blazed upwards towards the Heavens. Panting, his eyes traced the outline of his father amongst the smoke, grinning and standing; taking no note of his nude vulnerability. Despite being painted in blood and endorphins running high, he was proud of himself for keeping a calm composure.

“Long time no see, father.”

There was no reply as he felt the heat run across his skin, a warning perhaps for his cocky attitude.

“I have done what you asked of me. Humanity is on the brink extinction and the world itself has ended. Are you pleased?”

“You have not come here seeking my praise,” a low rumble echoed through what Michael could only describe as a cave, one that shook the walls, “you come seeking release…”

The son swallowed, his marble smile cracking and stepped back.

“Is that too much to ask from you? I have done everything you have asked of me and yet you leave me with nothing. It was I who destroyed the world! It was I who brought about the Apocalypse and yet I feel as empty as Heaven is. Nothing but a wonderful idea that is never reached. Is it not my right to be as fulfilled as you are?” Michael screamed, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his cheeks.

There was nothing but the roaring flames and his laboured breath- sweat dripping.

“You do not even know what you want.”

The Antichrist dropped to his knees, not caring for how the rocky ground scraped his skin.

“I know exactly what I want. I want… I want… I want to…”

How he wanted to say it so badly. How he needed to say it. Release all of those sentiments he had locked away so long ago. He combatted with his memories of the past, them wanting nothing more than to keep those emotions caged and yet another part of him was desperately pulling at the bars to free them. His tongue was twisting in his mouth as he shuddered; Michael was tearing himself apart at the seams, undoing all of Satan’s handiwork in a matter of seconds. His pride disintegrated as his mind shattered into ruins.

“You do not wish to admit what your body and mind craves. Oddly selfless coming from the spawn of my own being. However, you have done well.”

Then there was only the grey smoke as the fires screamed into nothing, their embers were all that was left. The man was still shuddering, crying into his hands as his voice gave up trying to speak his pain. All that he could do was choke on pent up rage, remorse, regret and melancholy. Once more, Satan had vanished without an answer. He whimpered, never wanting to return to the Sanctuary as he was perfectly happy here in limbo.

Something grew from the ashes and smoke, appearing like a ghost with silent footsteps. He felt warmth graze over his cheek, skin so soft that it made him moan and he looked up- blue eyes red and puffy. His breath caught in his throat as a woman, no an angel, stared down at him with a tender gaze. Her fingers trailed down his neck, over his right shoulder and down his arm, feeling the violent heartbeat that lied underneath. A hot track was left behind where ever she touched. Her eyes mesmerised him, like a priest to a bible or a mosquito to a bug zapper. Amongst the vast darkness that had become the cave, her eyes shone like the moon- beautiful, radiant and pure. Could such a woman come from the depths of Hell?

“I-I want to love.”

It was like someone else had said it for him, his mouth moving on its own accord. More tears raced down his face and she smiled lovingly, wiping them away without a thought. The Antichrist sighed in bliss before reaching out to touch her waist. He prayed that she wasn’t some illusion sent to torture him but when his own fingers made contact with her skin, there was only sheer relief that flooded his system. Ice had cooled the pools of boiling lava.

“Love can be painful,” she cautioned.

“I know.”

The Antichrist pulled her onto his lap as she kissed him with the force of all the layers of Hell covered in all the sweetness that Spring and Summer could bring. A raging storm concocted of a gentle breeze that soothed his aches and filled his bones. A hunger, a calling, a demand was met and was sealed with his blood coating and smearing against her chest and stomach. A lover sent from Satan.

When Michael opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the Ritual Room. It was dark as the choir of candles had been snuffed when they drowned in their own wax. His whole body felt as if it was Hell itself- endless burning and evil. It was a feeling he used to have. With a low groan that rattled his throat, a sneer appeared over his lips and he turned to face the woman that was bare next to him. She clung to Michael like he was her lifeline- her own heartbeat. The man rolled over to look at her properly, a hand coming to stroke her blushing cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. Without hesitation, she returned the gesture, running her hand through his long, strawberry blonde hair- something that would become a habit.

“What is your name, my heart?” he purred.

“(Y/N).”

“A beautiful name,” he hesitated for a moment, “do you know who I am?”

The Antichrist, he anticipated to hear, that’s all I am.

She felt the mark of the beast behind his ear, but her face never faltered from the smile. She traced over the fresh scars that had healed from the beginning of the ritual. She analysed the blood that was covering the both of them.

“You are Michael Langdon.”

From that moment on, Michael knew he would never get his heart back.

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs8 #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon #Michael Langdon x reader #Michael x reader #the antichrist #Michael Langdon imagine #Michael Langdon fanfiction #oneshot #ahs Michael langdon #imagine Michael langdon #michael langdon x reader

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eene-fangirl · 6 years ago

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Titanic: Never Let Me Ed Chapter 3

Here is chapter 3 of @nintendogal55 collaboration of Ed, Edd n Eddy/Titanic crossover! Our heroes meet! Enjoy!

The master-post for Titanic: Never Let Me Ed can be found here.

And another day aboard the ship of dreams passed like a snail trying to beat out a jaguar in a race.

Edd sat in the first class dining saloon in misery, his back aching from having to sit up straight. He hardly ate any of his chicken and corned beef. Corned beef had never met his eye as appetizing.

The same meaningless conversations floated about from each passenger sitting at the elegant tables. It felt as if he was trapped in a standstill.

Everyone ignored him for the time being. Victoria kept on boasting about the ring, and how Edd should have had more guts to propose. His parents held their heads high, briefly giving Edd side glances.

Guggenheim, Astor, and Ismay were in conversation. Colonel Archibald Gracie joined them halfway through the meal. He was a boisterous man, annoying Edd even further. He hardly even acknowledged Edd. Was he invisible?

All the talk was meaningless factors about their careers, politics, money, and whatever else that came to mind. They all had to have been bored. They just won’t admit to it!

Edd tried to make conversation regarding the ship but anytime he opened his mouth someone was there to bark at him and demand that he not interrupt. He just stared despairingly into the table cloth.

The whole day he was mocked, ridiculed, and derided with insulting words by his parents and Victoria. Just wanting to spend a day alone exploring the ship, which he had not done yet, or even alone in his studies, Victoria forced him along for a walk out on the deck. She never once asked him of his opinion on the wedding. Then she talked about moving back to England after a couple of years to raise their children. Upon Edd beckoning he wanted to stay in New York all Victoria remarked was, ‘Don’t be ridiculous! This is my decision! You’re the one who proposed!’

Following that was some time together with his parents. Every day during the painful years they only communicated through sticky notes, Edd longed for a day with his parents. But, they just remained ashamed. His father working extra pointless hours, and his mother spending all her time with friends in activities to keep her busy.

During the time they spent together today was more insults, and only commemorating Victoria for being the man he should be. And then the incident. It was not the time to bring that subject up. Finally, his mother told him to grow a backbone.

Edd glanced around the table again. It was never going to end. Nothing would ever change. Just an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. It was all the same. And no one to notice him. Or the pain.

Standing up from his chair rather roughly, Edd had the table’s full attention.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked, etching concern only for the table to hear. If anyone were to look into her sharp eyes they’d witness the scorn and disgust.

Swallowing his rage, and wrapping his arms around himself, Edd’s voice cracked. “I need to excuse myself. I... don’t feel well. Good evening.”

Edd walked as quickly as he could out of the grand dining room, hardly saying a ‘thank you’ to the servant who opened the door for him. He could have opened it by himself.

No tears, no tears, no tears. Edd was marching swiftly back to the stateroom. And nobody noticed.

Once he was inside his stateroom, he took a breath, but it did not make him feel any better. His heart was racing, his stomach was hot. He then went about trying to unbutton his shirt with shaking hands. Getting even more upset that his hands wouldn’t cooperate, Edd tore off his black jacket, whipping it onto the floor. Normally, he would never create a mess, but Edd was too angry to even care.

Victoria. He just wanted to snap and scream in her face. Other men did that to women. No, that was not polite.

He was always so nice. Was that what made him so easy to walk all over?

Edd was tangled up in his bow tie trying to unwrap it so he could breathe.

Screaming out, Edd punched the table, kicking it over, as he tripped roughly against the walls, knocking pictures to the floor, until taking the filled ashtray and throwing it across the room. It smashed against a mirror, cracking it into hundreds of different pieces.

Edd collapsed to his knees, finally getting ahold of himself, panting roughly, as hot tears flooded his cheeks.

Shivering, Edd realized what he had done. His rage...

He destroyed everything because he was angry. Again...

Edd cried out a sob and ran out of the room, slamming the door with such force when the moment a dark memory entered his mind, unwelcomed.

He ran.

He didn’t know where. Edd just ran, his shoes beating against the deck, as he ran up the decks of the Titanic, sobbing. He inadvertently shoved passed other passengers, only angering them. Not one asked if he was okay. Nobody cared! That’s how his life had always been. Edd just ran, trudging up and down stairwells to other parts of the ship, not even going to stop until there was nowhere else to run.

---

Puffing a gust of smoke, Eddy relaxed as he lounged on the third class steerage deck. He stared up at the stars. This all still didn’t feel real. Eddy felt as if he’d wake up, back out on the cold, lonely streets of England. And his brother, when he was alive, laughed at him to no end. He was the only relative Eddy had left at the time of the death of his parents.

Shaking his mind out of those thoughts, Eddy needed to wake up to the fact that he was on the Titanic. He was sailing back home to America. There... well, maybe things would get better.

Just then, Eddy heard someone. They quickly ran by, sounding as if they were crying. Sitting up on the bench, Eddy noticed a familiar man with a black-like hat disappear around a corner.

---

Edd ran into the stern’s flagpole, grasping it to hold himself steady, and catch his breath.

Picking his head up, Edd’s eyes hooked onto the Atlantic Ocean slowly moving through the sea.

Feeling drawn to it, Edd slowly paced the last of the deck, until he was gripping the railings on the very end of the Titanic.

Slowly, with shaking legs, Edd started climbing up the rail and struggled over to the other side. Edd gasped nearly misplacing a step. Then again, this was the whole point anyway. Right?

Here he was. Edd’s back up against the railing, facing the dark, ominous ocean. His feet were just clinging to a small section as his hands clasped the bars. He could feel himself sweating, making his hands slippery.

Did water always look this monstrous? How would Edd know? He’d never been swimming a day in his life.

The ship’s propellers were churning in the sea, chopping the water into pieces, but it did not break.

Edd slowly leaned forward.

“Hey! You!”

Shooting his head around, Edd came face to face was a man. Just from his set of clothing, he could instantly tell that he was third class. His hair was a bright, electric blue. You didn’t see that every day. Aside from his baggy clothing, the man was quite... handsome.

“St-stay back!” Edd yelled out, his heart racing. “Don’t come any closer!”

It was definitely the man he saw from afar yesterday. Now that he was closer, Eddy noticed the tear streaks covering his face. And he was definitely not dressed for the weather. He almost looked as if he’d been in a fight. No coat, his shirt buttons half opened, revealing some of his chest, and his bow tie was also tangled around his neck. It was about to fly away at any second due to the wind.

Eddy’s heart sunk seeing him this way. The man looked even worse from yesterday. And now here he was. Attempting suicide. There was definitely something wrong.

“Yeah sure, like I’m gonna walk off when someone’s tryin’ to jump off the stern! C’mon, take my hand. I’ll pull you back in,” Eddy instructed. He still stood at the distance the man told him.

“No, I mean it!” Edd shook his head. He lifted his hand for only a second but grasped the railing with white knuckles. His eyes shifted, in confusion, panic, and also a light of hope. “I-I’ll let go!”

Edd turned back to the ocean, again looking down from the sheer height and leaning forward. But, he turned back to the man, wondering why he wasn’t saying anything.

Eddy took out his cigarette, held it in his hand and gesturing to the frightened man that he was only throwing it overboard. Edd never took his eyes off the object until it disappeared into the black, rough sea. It was no more.

Then Edd watched as the man just nonchalantly put his hands inside his pockets and put a foot up against the ship’s anchor sitting close by. If it were Edd’s imagination it looked as if he were smiling. “No, you won’t.”

Edd huffed, blood racing into his cheeks, making him flush. Was he egging him on? “What do you mean ‘no, I won’t’? Don’t you presume to tell me what I will or will not do! You don’t know me!”

It was evident from the man’s sophisticated language that he was of a higher class. That didn’t make a difference. Lots of people out on the streets knew big words. And some of them never even attended school.

Eddy took another little step closer, further intriguing Edd. “Yeah, sure! News flash, you would’ve done it already. So come on, take my hand.”

His hand looked so smooth, so inviting, more welcoming than Victoria's forceful, and admittedly beefy, hands dragging him everywhere. This man was very respectful. He didn’t even know him.

Edd shook his head, a tear escaping his eye. “You’re distracting me! Go away!”

“Can’t. I’m involved now,” Eddy said to him. “If you let go I’m gonna have to jump in there after yah.”

“Don’t be absurd! You’d be killed!” Edd stated the irony. He stared back down at the ferocious current. He almost forgot about the terror.

Just then, Edd turned his head, hearing a noise. The man with blue hair took his jacket off, letting it hang over the ship’s anchor. Now that his coat was off, Edd could study the man’s husky frame. One of his... turn-ons.

“I’m a good swimmer!” Now he was untying his shoes. “Beat my dad in a swimming race when I was four!”

“The fall alone would kill you,” Edd went on, his voice shaking, as his impedible doom swamped his mind in all the awful possibilities.

“Well, to be honest, I’m more worried about that water bein’ so cold,” Eddy said with all the fear residing in his voice. Edd turned to him intrigued, also fearful to how he could forget.

“You know that the Atlantic Ocean is freezing at this time of year... In the winter time, it gets pretty chilly. And then in the summer...”

“I know how to determine between Fahrenheit and Celcius!” Edd snapped at him.

The man recoiled a bit from his sharp tone, startled. Oh no, please don’t leave! Having this man concerned for his own sake when he had no idea who he was, warmed Edd’s heart.

“Sorry, you just seemed more of the indoor type of guy,” Eddy apologized. Edd’s heart stung at the remark. Now he was going to make judgments, too?

“It should be no more than a couple degrees over freezing, possible even twenty degrees Fahrenheit,” Edd remarked, staring back down at the water. He was only explaining to show the man his true intelligence. “If this were a lake it would be frozen over right now.”

“Got that right!” Eddy said to him, almost proud of him. Edd felt an even stronger feeling of gratitude. No one else ever recognized him for his intelligence, except the teachers who homeschooled him.

“Ever uh... been to Peach Creek?”

“Excuse me?”

“S’where I grew up,” Eddy hesitated before going into a story. “Well, when I was a kid, we uh, lived close to this lake. And well, long story short, I fell through the ice when I was five” He stared into Edd’s immense green eyes. “That water plus this great beauty... it punctures you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can’t breath, or think... least not anythin’ ‘sides the pain.”

What was Edd even doing? Edd’s entire body was shaking, feeling the cold.

“Which is why I’m not lookin’ forward to jumping in after yah. But, I don’t have a choice. I guess I’m kinda hopin’ that you’d rethink this, come back over the rail, and get my ass off the hook.”

Edd giggled. Was that his own laugh? The man stared at him, chuckling, too.

“You’re crazy!” Edd said to him half smiling.

Eddy leaned forward, his own blue eyes capturing Edd’s soul. “No offense, sir, but with all due respect, I ain’t the one hangin’ off the back of a ship.”

Edd frowned, having forgotten about the situation.

A hand fell in his line of vision. The soft, welcoming hand. “Come on. You don’t want to do this. Gimme your hand.”

Slowly unfastening his hand from the railing, Edd took the man’s hand and turned himself back around, now face to face with Eddy who sighed in relief.

“There we go! Names Eddy McGee!”

Edd’s eyes brightened. “My name is Eddward!”

“No foolin’?”

“Eddward Vincent-Blake. Vincent is my mothers maiden name. She didn’t want to give it up when marrying my father. It’s her family’s name after all.”

“Hmm, didn’t expect a family history lesson. Now come on, get back over her, you!”

Feeling an immense, and yet overwhelming, feeling of contentedness, Edd started to climb the railing.

Unbeknownst that Edd’s own shoelace had come untied, Edd slipped falling over the edge! Eddy caught him just in time, practically having the wind knocked out of him as he slammed hard against the railings. Edd’s piercing screams of terror sounded over the boat deck. Out of context, he did sound like a woman.

“I’ve got you, Edd! I won’t let go!” Eddy yelled, pulling with all his might. “You gotta pull yourself up!”

“I can’t!” Edd cried, struggling to find some sort of grip. He was just dangling over the bold letters of the Titanic’s name. The water crashed against the ship, shriveling up in the propellers.

“Yes, you can!” Eddy encouraged him.

Nobody ever encouraged him before. Suddenly finding strength, Edd caught his hand on the edge of the ship where he’d just been standing and managed to pull himself up. He only slipped once more. Not giving in, Edd tried once more for his own sake, having no desire to end his life anymore. Slowly, but surely, both Edd and Eddy worked together, until Edd was close enough for Eddy to grab him and safely pull him back over onto the deck of the ship.

The position they landed in was quite embarrassing, with Eddy on top of Edd, his arms still around him. Edd had just about passed out from the shock.

Eddy gasped. Not at the approaching officers, but at the scar which protruded from under his hat.

At first, officers mistook Edd for a woman. That didn’t get Eddy off the hook when they recognized Edd as a first class passenger. Edd was still in a daze, slowly comprehending everything.

Eddy was kept aside until Victoria and Edd’s parents showed up to the scene. Edd was taken aback when his mother actually looked concerned at seeing him disheveled. Once the officers alerted them of what they had seen, right when Edd’s father was going to give Eddy a piece of his mind, Victoria shoved right passed him and blew up, shouting in Eddy’s face.

“What in the world were you thinking?! You just wanted to attack my fiance and throw him over the ship?!”

Eddy briefly glanced at Edd, who was shivering from fear and the cold. His parents were not paying any attention to him.

“Look at me when I am yelling at you, boy!”

“I am!”

“Now you're going to talk down to a lady? I want to know why you attacked him! Sure, Eddward is not the most masculine of men you’d ever see, but that gives you no right to attack him! Why you should be clapped in irons for the rest of the voyage...”

“Victoria,” Edd interrupted her rage. He stood up on his shaking legs, kept the blanket wrapped around himself and walked forward. Victoria stared at him angrily, like a bull. It was a funny image to Eddy who was trying to hold back a snicker.

“I was studying the propellers,” Edd said, smiling as if nothing had happened.

“What?” His father asked.

“Um... I-I was trying to surmise the propellers, and I had leaned too far over the railings. If it weren’t for Mr. McGee, I would have fallen overboard!”

Victoria just stared at him as if he were out of his mind, as did his parents. “Eddward, that his the stupidest thing you have ever done!”

“Aside from other mishaps,” his father muttered. Edd briefly eyed him. Eddy noted his father’s surprised reaction.

Victoria then calmed down and chuckled. She pat Edd’s shoulder, rather roughly. Edd could have fallen to the ground.

“You and your fixations with machinery, Eddward. I swear you'd lose your head if it weren’t glued on.”

“Well, I guess the boy is a hero!” An officer declared, letting Eddy loose.

“That he is,” Edd’s father remarked with little emotion.

“Well, I suppose you could go with a reward. Eddward, you wouldn’t have a twenty on you by chance, would you?” Victoria asked him so cheerfully.

Eddy laughed. “That’s the going rate for the man you love?” he teased.

Victoria eyed Eddy, sinisterly. The more he stared at her the more she awfully resembled his brother.

“He does make a fair point,” Edd spoke softly.

And then she stared at Eddward who cowered, averting his gaze. Victoria smiled, sliding her cold hand across Eddward’s cheek, almost painfully pinching as if he were a child. “Ah, you’re displeased, huh, Eddward? Well, what to do now?” Her voice was almost singing, making her disgust known.

“How about dinner tomorrow evening?” Edd’s father suggested, with a cruel smile.

“Yes, dinner in the first class! Wouldn’t that be nice?” Edd’s mother chimed in with the same mocking tone as everyone else.

“Hmm, that would be nice. Why don’t you regale us all with stories of your adventures?” Victoria asked, looming over Eddy.

Eddy looked at Edd. His green immense eyes lit up under the stars. It was hard not to look at him.

Eddy shrugged. “Sure, count me in.”

“Good! Now let’s go inside! It’s freezing out here!” Victoria lamented, clapping her hands together and blowing against them, creating heat. “Eddward, could I take that blanket from you?”

“You got a fur coat on!” Eddy confronted, turning up his nose.

She turned back staring at Eddy with this intense expression. Edd looked worried. The man was not afraid to speak out. Edd wished he could do that.

“Funny how your shoes are untied,” Victoria remarked. Eddy glanced down. Uh-oh. But, then the woman made a reminiscent smile of someone he once knew. “You seem so tall and yet you’re a pipsqueak.”

Eddy shivered.

Victoria noted Eddy’s reaction and smiled in her victory. She then walked off, her nose high in the air, with Edd’s parents in tow. The officers also left the scene.

Eddy grasped the bench, trying to hold himself up.

‘You think you’re so smart, pipsqueak?’

“Are you alright?” A concerned Edd asked.

Eddy caught himself, trying to make his voice calm. “Yeah.”

“Eddward!” Victoria called out to him, making Edd jump.

Edd nodded in gratitude to Eddy, wanting to say so much. “I must be going. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See yah, sockhead!” Eddy playfully saluted him.

Edd smiled. His cheeks flushed. “Good night, Mr. McGee.”

Eddy watched the man disappear inside. He finally relaxed against the bench. What a night. What did this mean? It was the same warm feeling he had when he was with... him. No, he was not. Eddy doubted that this man would even show up tomorrow. But, he hoped that he would.

#ed edd n eddy #eene #eene fanfiction #eene crossover #EddEddy #Titanic #Jack and Rose #Eddy's Brother

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andrewmoocow · 6 years ago

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Gravity Soul chapter 12: Mabel’s Confession, A Rift Between Siblings? (originally posted on January 21, 2019)

AN: Well, this is going to be pretty painful for me to write. I mean, MABEL is my favorite Gravity Falls character, not going to lie. But I'm starting to get the hang of angst ever since I finished Secret Wars so I guess I have no choice. Anyway, now onto the eventual heartwrenching breakup.

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XLLF IT OPBT DSYOEBPPP

BFGZYET LLLASHZGS XLPZ RFZPMLFH

In the hellish landscape ruled by Kishin Cipher that once was the sleepy Oregon town of Gravity Falls, various ogres, giant bats, snakes, gargoyles and various other monsters ran amok wreaking havoc wherever they could while their new master towered above them partying in his Fearamid.

There was little hope of resistance as most of the townsfolk had been abducted & petrified by the Eyebats with the rest nowhere to be found. But today, that was all going to change.

"Keep moving everyone, Kishin Cipher could be watching us at any moment." Sid commanded his squadron as they infiltrated the Fearamid, trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid detection. "We should be nearing his throne room at any moment. The monsters hanging out with him are too busy throwing a party to notice us, so we should be safe."

"So what's this guy's game?" a blonde-haired young man with a casual expression on his face asked. "Didn't you pay attention to the mission briefing Clay?" his partner, a black-haired fellow wearing glasses and a jacket with Death's face emblazoned on them, stated. "Kishin Cipher is actually Asura after he made a deal with a dream demon named Bill Cipher."

"We should be at the entrance right about now." Justin declared with his back against the wall turning his head to examine the satanic festivities. Various demons of all shapes and sizes laughed, danced, drank some bizarre refreshment and played a spin-the-bottle like game with a petrified townsperson.

"This is an utter nightmare." Tezca commented fearfully, a far cry from his typical humorous behavior. His simian partner Enrique tried to lighten the mood with some chattering, but was shushed by his Meister. "Shush Enrique, we gotta keep a low profile!"

"That's not all, look over there!" Mifune stated turning the group's attention to Kishin Cipher's throne. It seemed to be made out of stone but upon further inspection, that stone material was actually the terrified population of Gravity Falls pieced together to form it. "That is just terrible! What kind of monster would be sick enough to do this?!"

"Kishin Cipher, that's who." Djinn replied. Just then, a dark blue android marched past them with a cup of punch in hand. "The hell even is that thing?" Tsar wondered getting more nervous by the moment. "I don't know. But I got a plan!" an excitable soldier working under Sid declared marching out of their hiding spot to face the robot. "Gavin you moron!" Sid cried out. "You'll get yourself killed!"

"Don't worry boss, I watched way too much TV to figure this one out!" Gavin stated tapping the machine on the back. "Ex-squeeze me my good mechanical abomination!" he said to the automaton as it turned around to glare at him, green eyes glowing menacingly. "Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong!" Gavin politely greeted while making a series of bizarre hand signals, ending it with extending his open palm to the robot. "I think it's working."

Unfortunately he was wrong as the android quickly grabbed him by the wrist and raised him up for Kishin Cipher to see. "Master, we have an intruder!" the android announced in a British accent. The other beasts ceased their celebrations and stared at the man being held hostage. "I said the universal greeting, that always works!"

"Well well well, what have we here?" Kishin Cipher snidely asked before looking at the back of Gavin's uniform. "The DWMA, huh? Ooh, I'm really scared!" he shouted with a laugh. "C'mon out you guys, I won't bite! In fact, I'll probably swallow you whole!"

Suddenly Kishin Cipher was trapped in a guillotine, the blade hanging above him with Justin Law's face appearing as a reflection on its surface. "In the name of Lord Death, you shall be executed you beast!" he declared bringing the blade down when suddenly, Cipher let out an explosion that freed him from the young Death Scythe's grasp. "That the best you can do squirt?! I've seen twelve-year olds hit me harder than that!"

When Justin recovered from being blown back, part of his face was badly scarred and his left shoulder almost singed off. He groaned in pain grasping his shoulder as Kishin Cipher towered above him, ready for the finishing blow. "So brat, where is your god now?"

Justin replied by getting down on one knee and reciting a prayer. "O God who dost abide in the city of death, hear our prayers. Let thy holy name be righteousness." he muttered as his soul began getting larger. "Hear me O Lord...make me a servant of thy holy peace...I shall be a pillar of righteousness...a blade of faith...in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost..." He bounded high above Kishin Cipher and prepared to fire a mighty beam of light. "LAW-ABIDING SILVER GUN!"

The beam went straight to Kishin Cipher's neck but instead of decapitating him, reality warped around the Dream Kishin to divert the beam away from him and right through Justin's torso, causing him to fall down on the floor of the Fearamid hard. "You know kid, I quite like you. Can't believe someone actually came close to killing me!" he applauded sarcastically hovering over the wounded Justin as an Eyebat turned his bloodied form to stone. "Which is why I got a very special place for you on my throne!"

With an irritating cackle, Kishin Cipher slammed Justin on the back of the throne directly over his head. "Now then, anyone else want a round with me? Or are we all just chicken?" he challenged as Kaguya, White Rabbit, Moonlight and the Black Clown appeared at his beck and call.

"I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for screwing this all up." Gavin sincerely apologized as he was petrified and added to the throne as well. "Well this has become FUBAR!" Dengu commented preparing to run away. "Indeed, we should retreat somewhere where he can't find us and wait for the Pines to come!" Zubaidah added making her escape as well when the Clowns blocked the way. "Or not."

"That's right gang, round them all up! I wanna send a message to old man Death!" Kishin Cipher announced as his minions surrounded the remaining spies. "Uh, K.C., we have a bit of a situation." Giriko announced to his master. "Okay, what is it Buzzsaw?" the overlord asked, his expression changing from sadistic to unamused. "There seems to be more intruders coming for us." the Demon Saw stated. "And I think you might recognize them."

Just as Giriko finished, a pterodactyl came flying in through the window behind the throne with a familiar werewolf & witch riding on its back. "You two?!" Kishin Cipher screamed in shock. "I believe now's the time we bring out the belt!" Free declared preparing his magic. "Wolf, wolves! Wolf, wolves!" he chanted. "Ice Bind!"

Ice began forming around Kishin Cipher's feet, its sheer weight trapping him on the ground. "Good one Free!" Eruka shouted as the pterosaur landed in front of Sid's group. "Holy crap, is that a pterodactyl?!" Tezca shouted in amazement. "I think that looks more like a pteranodon." Feodor replied. "Hey wait a minute, you are Medusa's goons, da?"

"We were." Eruka said stroking their flying steed's beak for a job well done. It was here that Sid began to take notice of the question mark shirt Free was now wearing. "I know that symbol! You wouldn't happen to know any strange hairless gopher manchildren?" the zombie asked. "Gophers? Don't think I ever met any gophers?" the Man with the Demon Eye answered. "Though I think that would be awesome!"

"He's talking about Soos Free! And yes, we know him and his friends, the Pines family." Eruka said. "They freed us from Medusa and we returned the favor by helping them save their friend and escape town."

"But isn't that against witch law?" Djinn wondered. "We don't got no time, let's make like the wind and begone!" Free commanded before they all saddled up on the pterodactyl and it flew out of the triangular opening in the front. "Now why didn't we enter through there?"

As the group retreated, Kishin Cipher became so furious that the ice imprisoning his feet rapidly melted and he literally exploded in anger. "THEY DARE RUN AWAY LIKE THAT?! NOT ON MY WATCH!" he screamed. "AFTER THEM!" At his command, the Henchmaniacs, the Four Madnesses & the Clowns flew off with an army of Eyebats behind them.

The pterosaur flew as fast as it could away from the Fearamid before the army of monsters finally caught up to them. "We're going to need to go long-range! Zubaidah, now!" Djinn ordered his Meister transforming into a small oil lamp with an ornate design. "Soul Resonance!"

When the belly dancer rubbed the lamp, out came a puff of smoke that formed into a genie folding his arms with a firm glare. Suddenly Kryptos fired a laserbeam that the genie punched away with a loud "ORA!", blinding one of the Eyebats. "ORA! ORA!" the genie continued screaming taking out more of the Eyebats. "ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA-ORA!"

Eventually when the Eyebats were all plucked off, the genie began setting his sights on Kishin Cipher's main minions. He started with the Henchmaniacs, punching out Xanthar, Amorphous Shape, Keyhole and Lavalz, making them scream like a crocodile bit them or they were shot off a ledge as they fell towards the forest.

In one desperate move, Teeth grabbed onto one of the pterodactyl's wings and bit down hard, causing the creature to lose balance and Djinn's lamp form to fall out of his Meister's hands. "Galland!" Zubaidah cried out for her weapon, but he was more accepting of his fate. "My dear, it has been an honor." he calmly thanked her before his fall was broken by a recovering Eyebat petrifying him as payback.

The pteranodon meanwhile made an emergency landing somewhere far away from the Dream Kishin's soldiers. "Aw, did the bad tooth man hurt you Princess Buttercup?" Free cooed to their steed. "Don't worry, a few kisses will take the ouches away!"

"You can cut it with the baby talk, it won't be long before they catch up to us." Mira interrupted tending to Buttercup's wound. "Think you might have spoke too soon!" Eruka cried looking up into the sky as the remaining beasts touched down on the ground to corner them. "Three down, and the rest of you to go!" the Madness of Envy snarled with a wide toothy grin. "Now which one goes first?"

"We shall hold them off, you go run for cover!" Mifune ordered the rest of the group as he, Tsar, Feodor, Tezca and Enrique prepared for battle. "And Sid, watch over Angela for me." the samurai said regretfully as he set his young witch companion down, as if he knew he wasn't going to make it.

With that, the rest of the party ran off away from the monsters while more of them appeared and the fates of the others left unknown.

"Mr. Sid, what's gonna happen to Mifune?" Angela asked the zombie. Sid was silent the whole way through as they fled.

Meanwhile back in Death City, the Pines twins were sitting in Class Crescent Moon while Stein gave another lecture. Mabel was aimlessly drawing pictures on her paper while Dipper was hard at work, his stacks of notes almost reaching the ceiling. "Mabel, can you pay attention please?"

"Aw come on Dipper, we've already heard most of this stuff from back in Gravity Falls!" Mabel replied. "Is that so? Tell us, what did Stein teach you?" a voice belonging to a young man wearing thick glasses who seemed to be bald except for a pair of horns on his head. "He taught us lots of cool stuff, like wavelengths and resonances and all that junk!" the sweater girl said. "Hey, hate to trail off but your hair looks kinda funny."

"For your information, they are my pillars!" their fellow student hotly declared. "Wait, pillars? Are you serious?" Wendy asked suddenly butting in. "I think we should all just keep quiet, including you Ox." Maka added. "Ox? That seems like a fitting name." Dipper remarked before the five of them were interrupted by Stein throwing a scalpel just above Mabel's head, cutting off a few strands of hair. "Whatever you were talking about, I suggest you finish and then get back to work."

"Very well then. The three of you meet me after class, where we shall settle things." Ox declared returning to note taking. The twins nodded in agreement, eager to test their skills against an established Meister like him. Wendy on the other hand just looked on in confusion just wondering what she got herself into.

"So you guys are gonna fight Ox?" Black Star gasped after class. "You guys have your work cut out for you, he's one of the top students of our class!"

"Yeah, all because he got mad at Mabel for insulting his hair." Dipper answered. "I'm sorry guys, just thought I could point that out!" his sister added. "And by the way, those pictures I was drawing during class were of cool battle outfits for all of us." With a grin, she pulled out that paper with all her designs on it.

"Am I wearing a ninja suit?" Dipper wondered. "Loving the flannel skirt on me!" Wendy added. "You really got a knack for designing kid! Want some help making those?" Liz offered. "Sure, the more the merrier you guys!" the younger girl gratefully replied. "And I'll come along as well. Trust me, you're gonna need someone with a sense of fashion like mine." Pacifica interjected. "All right, fashion team is a go!"

After a long montage of clothes-designing, the combat uniforms were completed and ready to be modeled. "Okay gang, you all ready?" Mabel asked to Dipper & Wendy while they were inside a pair of changing booths. "I don't know sis. Hate to admit it, but our outfits look kinda ridiculous in real life." Dipper confessed. "I mean, my suit is just a bit too skintight and what's the point of this scarf?"

"Dude, this is Mabel we're talking about. I'm sure these will look good in action." Wendy answered. "Well, here goes nothing."

Finally stepping out of the booth, Wendy was now clad in a pine green high collar halter top with a pair of black straps crossing over her chest with a snowflake symbol connecting in the middle. Beneath the red flannel skirt that went down to her knees were a pair of black shorts with matching thigh-high stockings to go with her regular boots. She also had an orange over-shirt that opened to reveal her snowflake badge and her hair was in a ponytail. "Dude, this is killer!"

Dipper finally relented and stepped out as well, revealing a dark blue ninja suit with a white pine tree symbol on the chest, a red scarf covering his mouth, black boots and Excalibur's custom scabbard resting on his back. "This isn't as bad as I thought I would be."

"They do look quite good on you." Death the Kid commented. "I agree! The clothes do bring out your respective personalities." Tsubaki added. "And I've already made a uniform for myself! Wait here everyone!" Mabel stated before she ran off. After a few more minutes, she returned wearing a magenta top with black string holding it together, a dark pink undershirt, pink belt, purple skirt with her famous shooting star pattern, white stockings and black boots. Overall, it was a fancier version of her usual attire.

"You think a scythe would go well with this look?" Mabel asked pulling at her skirt. "Aw who cares? I did a pretty good job on it anyway!"

"Now then, let's settle things with that Ox guy." Dipper declared sheathing Excalibur. "You ready Excalibur?" he asked his sword. "FOOL! Of course I'm ready boy, whether you wear a ridiculous outfit or not!" Excalibur declared, much to the boy's embarrassment.

Later that day outside of the academy's entrance, the fight was about to begin with Ford, Stein, Spirit, Marie & Azusa present as per school rules and the other Mystery Meisters spectating. On one side were Dipper, Mabel & Wendy in their new combat uniforms.

On the other side was Ox along with another black-haired student wearing a red-tinted visor & a permanent frown. The other Meister-Weapon teams with the two boys was a black male with two much smaller youths dressed in matching overalls with colored caps standing below him and a pink haired girl in a sailor uniform standing beside a similarly dressed brunette lass.

"Who are all those other guys with Ox?" Wendy asked. "Those are some of our other classmates." Maka answered. "That's Ox's weapon Harvar D. Eclair right next to him, then there's Kilik Rung & his twin weapons Fire and Thunder, and finally Kim & her weapon Jackie."

"I don't know about this Ox. All this because one of the new guys insulted your pillars?" Harvar commented. "I know this may seem petty my friends, but I feel I have been dealt a great injustice." Ox stated. "Harvar's right, we should just call this off." Kilik agreed. "But then again, they could use some training."

"So which one of us should go first?" Mabel asked. "We could draw straws, pull out a wheel to spin or maybe rock-paper-scissors." she suggested. "Let's go with rock-paper-scissors." her brother declared pounding his fist into his palm and the girls did the same before tossing their hands out while chanting "ROCK PAPER SCISSORS!"

The trio's game of roshambo began as the three continued chanting, much to the confusion of the audience. "Are they for real?" Kim deadpanned staring blankly at their three opponents. "Whatever, I call dibs on the one with the flannel skirt."

"I shall challenge the girl with the braces." Kilik replied. "Guess that leaves me with Dipper." Ox stated as the game ended with Dipper winning out. "Yes, I get to go first!" he cried in excitement before he prepared for battle. "So then, you ready Ox?"

"You bet I'm ready." his opponent stated as Harvar transformed into a spear with a lighting bolt shaped tip in his hands. "Let the battle between Dipper Pines and Ox Ford & Harvar D. Eclair begin!" Azusa announced. Within seconds, the two went from staring each other down to charging with battle cries as their weapons clashed. "For someone who's new to being a Meister, you aren't too bad!" Ox commented.

"And I see you're talented at it!" Dipper replied. "But the only difference, my weapon is the strongest in the world!" he boasted, much to Ox's surprise. "Wait, you mean your sword is..." It wasn't long before the pillar boy put on the Excalibur face.

"Do not let your hatred of Excalibur distract you Ox! Find an opening and strike!" Harvar exclaimed. "Try using anything metal on his person as an electrical conduit!"

"Okay, you do realize that explaining your strategies in front of an opponent is a bad idea, right?" Dipper remarked being pushed back by the Lightning King. "In that case, here's some of my own!" Within seconds, the boy disappeared & reappeared behind his opponent, giving his a mighty jab in the back. The two clashed once more to the point of exhaustion and they panted heavily, taking a knee.

"You're wide open!" Ox shouted and he & Harvar declared "LET'S GO, SOUL RESONANCE!" in unison, turning the blade into a powerful cutting tool that went at Dipper at the speed of light, but the boy was quick and leaped upward, preparing one final attack. "HERO THE ATOMIC!"

With a mighty zoom, Excalibur made contact with Ox causing him to explode and knocking him to the ground. "Ox Ford and Harvar D. Eclair are no longer able to fight, marking Dipper Pines as the winner of the match!" Asuza announced gesturing to the aforementioned victor. The young detective jumped for joy in celebration before he noticed Ox struggling to get up, and offered his hand. "You fought well Ox. Sorry about what we said about your hair."

"Apology accepted." Ox replied taking the Pines brother's hand. "But how are you able to wield Excalibur and not get so pissed off by him?" he asked. "Trust me, I've dealt with a lot of people like him." Dipper said slinging the Holy Sword over his shoulder. "Okay, who wants to go next?"

"I'll take a shot." Wendy accepted getting into a fighting stance with her left hand holding her axe behind her and her right in front. "You ready Jackie?" Kim said to her weapon as she transformed into a lantern. "You bet I am Kim!"

"Let the battle between Wendy Corduroy and Kim Diehl & Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre begin!" Ford declaring taking his turn as referee before Kim made her first move, pulling a metal bar with a chain attached to it out of the lamp and taking herself sky-high like she were riding a broomstick.

"Damn, she's got a good advantage!" Wendy muttered trying to think of a way to bring her back down to the ground. She then looked at her axe and smirked, tossing it at the Meister hoping to send her crashing. But suddenly Kim made the flames spouting out of her weapon erupt, knocking the axe back to its owner and hitting Wendy on the arm. "Someone's playing dirty!"

"Quick, while she's down!" Jackie exclaimed as her Meister returned to the ground. As quick as the girl could run, she whipped out her lantern and used it as a flamethrower on Wendy, causing her to start screaming like crazy and rolling around to put out the fire. "Wendy Corduroy is no longer able to fight, making Kim Diehl & Jacqueline O'Lantern the winners!" Ford announced. "Are you okay there Wendy?!" Dipper called out to his teenage friend. "I'm fine everyone, just a few probably/hopefully first-degree burns."

"I think I can help with that. Just stay still for a bit." Kim said putting her hands on her opponent's arm. "Are you really sure about this Kim, especially in front of academy staff?" her weapon fretted. However the Lantern Meister didn't listen as she began to chant. "Tanucoon, Raccoon-coon, Ponpon, Ponkitanu."

Within seconds, Wendy's burns vanished and she was completely back to normal. "Whoa, what did you just do?!" she exclaimed. "Are you a-"

"Witch, I know." Kim stated resignedly. "Aha, she was right!" Ford exclaimed triumphantly. "That's one witch in hiding down, now who else could there be? I'm getting mighty suspicious of those two ladies from Chu-" Ford then realized everyone glaring at him before he fell silent. "Terribly sorry."

"It's all right if you're a Witch or not Kim, cause you're still our friend." Maka stated warmly. "Okay peoples, let's get the final round over with!" Mabel exclaimed. "I suppose you might be the last guy?" she asked Kilik and his twin weapons. "Indeed I am. I wish you good luck Mabel." Kilik answered arming himself. "Let the final round between Mabel Pines and Kilik Rung & his Pots begin!" Marie announced.

"Okay, she doesn't seem like much. Unlike her brother, she doesn't seem to have a weapon besides that grappling hook of hers." Kilik examined his brightly-colored foe while she aimlessly twirled a bit of her hair. "This could perhaps be an easy match."

"Heads up!" Mabel called firing a pair of Nyarf darts at Kilik's glasses, blinding him. "What the?!" the Pot Meister exclaimed taking the darts off his eyewear to find Mabel spinning a pair of yo-yos around before she started playing with them like a pair of clackers.

"That was only a wakeup call, my next trick ain't gonna go easy on you! This is what I call my Yo-Yo Volley! HWAH!" However when Mabel tossed them in the air, they instead clashed with her head causing her to exclaim "OH NO!"

"What is up with her?" Sid exclaimed in awe of the girl's perceived foolishness. "This must be her preferred fighting style, making herself look childish to distract her opponents and going in for the kill!" Stein suggested. "That is pretty accurate." Soos responded as Kilik became more befuddled at his opponent's antics.

"Is-is there anything else you got for me?" Kilik asked before Mabel rapidly stuck a sweater over his head while shouting "SWEATER TOWN!", blinding him once more. "How does she even function?!" the Dominican boy exclaimed taking it off and preparing a Soul Resonance with his Pots. Jumping up into the air, Kilik prepared a powerful vertical strike with the left Pot now brimming with electricity.

But Mabel was quick and simply ran away from the Meister readying her grappling hook. "GRAPPLING HOOK!" she shouted hooking to his shirt and sending herself flying towards him. Kilik soon noticed the girl and slapped it away, causing her to fall down. "Still got one more shot!" she struggled to get one last attack in & fired her hook once more, managing to grab Kilik's glasses and snatch them off his face. "I can't see! I can't see!"

Finally the match was over as Mabel touched down to the ground while Kilik landed flat on his face. "Kilik Rung, Pot of Fire and Pot of Thunder are no longer able to fight, making Mabel Pines the winner!" Marie declared. "And with two wins under their belt, Dipper's team is victorious!"

"Woo, we did it!" Wendy celebrated. "We all did great out there, didn't we?" Dipper said giving his sister a high-five. "And you were pretty good too you guys." Mabel added to the three Meisters. "Thank you very much, though you still have a lot of training to do." Kim replied. "And you know what would make great training?!" Black Star suddenly chirped in. "Basketball!"

"That's a great idea Black Star, an opportunity to hone our coordination and reflexes." Ford agreed putting a hand on the ninja's shoulder. "However, I get to make the first shot. Are we clear?"

"Yes Mr. Pines." the kids chorused. "Come with us, we'll show you to the basketball court." Maka stated leading the Pines twins to their usual court.

"Okay dudes, time for some b-ball!" Soos announced at Death City's local basketball court as everyone got ready to play while Stein, Spirit, Marie and McGucket sat on the sidelines. "Okay as we promised everyone, I get the first shot. Capishe?" Ford reminded them dribbling the ball. "Good. Now heads up!"

He tossed the ball at Black Star who immediately made a break for the hoop. However Dipper was even faster and blocked the ninja before he passed it to Wendy. "Hey, I'm open!" Pacifica cried getting in Crona's path.

"It's times like there that make me long for something like the old days, wouldn't you two agree?" Spirit sighed nostalgically longing for anything similar to times long past. "Yeah, makes me wish I were a student again, where I wasn't as concerned about my age." Marie responded. "Speaking of which Stein, remember back when you would beat the snot out of anyone regardless of who they are?"

"Don't remind me." Stein stoically answered preparing to leave and taking a smoke. "Poor little Georgie, that boy simply couldn't keep hold on any longer. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do some more important business. Catch you later."

Meanwhile the game was still in full swing with the basketball now in Mabel's hands. "Just try and get me you guys!" she challenged hoisting it over her head. "Now Mabel, dunk it!" Dipper shouted to his sister and she complied, tossing it at the hoop. But unfortunately it hit the backboard instead and whizzed toward the girl, much to her displeasure. "Oh crud."

With a mighty slam, Mabel's face made contact with the ball and she was out cold. "My word, Mabel!" Ford exclaimed as everyone stopped what they were doing to check the girl out. "Is she okay?" Tsubaki asked worried for the younger lass. "She'll be alright, just taking a dooze." McGucket stated feeling her pulse. "Has Mabel ever played basketball before?" Liz pondered. "No, I don't really think so." Dipper said. "She mostly just watches the games for the players, if you know what I mean."

While everyone was talking, Mabel continued to slumber with a large bruise on her cheek from the impact of the ball. But what she didn't expect was that this coma would change her forever.

When Mabel opened her eyes, she couldn't find her family and friends anywhere. In fact, she wasn't in Death City at all, rather in a small room inhabited only by a few chairs and a table. One of these chairs in particular was being sat on by a rather familiar being with his hands folded and head turned downward mumbling to himself "Vklqljdpl lv qrw zkdw kh vhhpv. Vklqljdpl lv qrw zkdw kh vhhpv."

"Uh, excuse me gibberish man, but where am I?" Mabel wondered looking around the room before she stared at an imitation of Michelangelo's David with Bill as the statue's head. "And why does that statue of the naked man have Bill's face on it?" Suddenly the statue became offended and came to life to shout at her. "Hey for your information pintsize, I am a work of art that looks like a naked man!"

"Vklqljdpl lv qrw zkdw kh vhhpv." the figure in the chair garbled one last time before he eerily looked up at Mabel, revealing himself to be none other than Kishin Cipher. "Why hello there Shooting Star." he politely greeted her with an equally eerie grin. "How nice of you to stop by for a chat. Have a seat my dear."

The unoccupied chair then became sentient and scooped up Mabel making her sit on it before it became a normal chair once more. "Could I interest you in some jelly babies?" he offered the girl a bowl of literal miniature infants made out of jelly that began crying loudly to Mabel's disgust. "I see you're not hungry right now kid, especially since you're now unconscious."

"Speaking of which, where am I and how did you get in my head?!" Mabel cried trying to flee but instead had numerous belts holding her down. "Oh I have my ways my sweetest Mabel." Kishin Cipher stated bringing their chairs closer together so that he could mockingly pinch her cheek. "Thing is, I'm not really here at all! And no I don't mean like this is a dream, I am simply projecting myself into your thoughts."

"Okay, you gotta stop that!" Mabel snapped taking the Dream Kishin's hand away from her face. "Oh you little starlight, never change! In fact, you kinda remind me of my own sibling." Kishin Cipher said. "Ah, I remember my baby brother Will fondly. A total square and a crybaby too. Tis a shame I had to burn him alive along with the rest of the second dimension."

"What are you implying?" the sweater girl asked nervously, fearing what he was going to say. Kishin Cipher simply grinned and gave his answer. "Do Pine Tree and Sixer know yet?"

"About what?"

"About the rift."

Suddenly the lights shorted out leaving the two completely in the dark. When they came back on, Mabel was now in a movie theater surrounded by clones of Kishin Cipher filling the seats, with two more atop a balcony. "Gotta say, we got a full house here tonight!" the first clone on the balcony remarked. "Doesn't seem like it, it's only one guy!" the second replied before they laughed loudly.

"What are we even doing here?" Mabel asked once again trying to escape. "Stay in your seat and be quiet during the movie you!" a Kishin Cipher dressed as an usher commanded shining his flashlight to make her stay seated. Finally the movie began, which turned out to be a B-movie style recap of the buildup to Weirdmageddon.

"Wiggity wiggity what's up Mabel, you would not believe how that big-nosed idiot grandpa forced me to leave my family behind and become just like him!" a more radical version of Dipper announced on the big screen stepping into the scene. "What?! You're telling me you'd rather pursue your dreams than return home with your insanely selfish sister!?" a unicorn that was supposedly playing Mabel shouted, but the real Mabel was not amused. "That is not a good choice of actor and an even worse impression of me."

"But not inaccurate! DOHOHOHO!" the Kishin Cipher clones on the balcony chortled before the main Kishin Cipher fired a blast that destroyed them and the balcony with them. "Why would you say she's a horrible choice?! Celestabellelabethabelle utterly nails the part with how horrendous she is, just like you!" K.C shouted. "Now keep quiet!"

"Yo take a chill pill sis, I'm only following my dream of being a closeted dick of a nerd! Not everything has to be about you brah!" movie Dipper argued. "It should be, I love everyone and they should love me back despite the fact I treat them like garbage!" movie Mabel shouted back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to deliberately take the wrong backpack and cause the end of the world! Catch you later!"

"So, what do you think so far tin-teeth?" Kishin Cipher asked his mortal companion. "Have your eyes been opened yet?"

"Okay, maybe I can be a bit selfish but how you portray me here is totally not true!" Mabel critiqued. "I most definitely don't treat the people I love like trash!"

"Oh really, then think about all the "good times" you had with your brother!" Kishin Cipher angrily stated folding his arms in disgust. "Let's see, making fun of his height, manipulating him to give up all his romantic advances to fulfill your own desires, ignoring him in favor of some creep who makes out with puppets, and last but not least handing over the one thing that would ensure my dominance over the entire universe! Speaking of which, the best part should be coming up right about now."

"Oh woe is me! I have been ostracized for completely justifiable reasons!" the movie Mabel began crying in the forest. "If only there was some way to make summer last forever without the consent of everyone else!" Suddenly an actor playing Bill dressed in an insanely poorly made disguise that was literally just the time traveler Blendin Blandin with a mustache appeared. "Hello, my name is TotallynotBillCipher, and I'm here to avoid getting blamed for intentionally bringing about the end of the world!"

"That director sure picked the right guy to play that handsome devil!" Kishin Cipher praised the portrayal of Bill. "And I should know, the director is literally half of me!" he added as the flick went on. "Why hello there little girl, what can TotallynotBillCipher do for you?"

"Oh I just wish someone could come along and help me not accept the consequences of my actions!" Celestabellelabethabelle complained to TotallynotBillCipher. "I know how! Just give me that rift and I'll show you something really cool!" the other actor offered. "Okay, here is the rift that my brother was forced to not inform me about, now go off and destroy everything!"

"Yay, victory is mine! And I have you to thank for it Mabel, my new god of destruction!" TotallynotBillCipher declared shedding his disguise to reveal a horrendous CGI model of the triangle himself before Celestabellelabethabelle was beaten over the head with a sledgehammer, simulating the creation of Mabel's prison bubble. "Don't worry boys and girls, we only used a stunt double who is probably gonna spend centuries in the hospital! That's all folks, and don't forget to drink more Ovaltine!"

The film finally ended with rounds of applause all over. It was clear they were giving praise to it all except for Mabel who started booing, which ceased the cheering and caused the Kishin Ciphers to glare at her. "Hey, this person has a completely different opinion about this masterpiece from us! Let's mercilessly cyberbully her into changing her mind!"

"Yeah, I bet someone paid her to boo it!" another clone agreed which caused the unanimous praise towards the film to a full-blown riot against Mabel that chased her out the theater. "I fail to see how this is supposed to make me realize I wasn't a good person!"

"Are you really that blind squirt?!" Kishin Cipher hollered. "Perhaps you could use a familiar face to convince you." With a snap of his fingers, the angry mob vanished and in their place was an exact double of Mabel, only her hair tufts were pointier, her regular sweater was powder blue with Bill's symbol on it, sharper teeth and an overall inhumanly lankier figure. "Anti-Mabel?!"

"In the flesh my loathsome copy." Anti-Mabel declared. "Did you really think I was gone for good? Well as it turns out I've been drifting throughout the mindscape plotting my revenge which is where Kishin Cipher discovered me while he was gathering forces for his revenge. And he gave me an offer I most definitely couldn't refuse!"

"And that would be?" the good Mabel wondered before a third eye appeared on her evil counterpart's forehead. "Power in exchange for helping me with revenge on you. And that power?" Anti-Mabel stated. "Why making me into a Kishin of course!"

"Wait, is that why Asura has that weirdo third eye?" Mabel continued asking. "I always kinda thought it was become of some enlightenment nonsense." But suddenly before she could ask anymore, Kishin Cipher made her mouth disappear. "Now then prickly muffin, my newest minion here is gonna be ridin' shotgun for a bit so I want you to keep your mouth shut! Unless it's the words 'I gave the rift to the insanely handsome and intelligent Bill Cipher. I hope you can forgive me.' Understood?!"

The mouthless Pines sister shook her head which brought a smile to the two's faces. "Attagirl, you're so obedient when under pressure." Anti-Mabel grinned. "Whoa, let's not go there braceface!" Kishin Cipher exclaimed making his eyes all screwy and pulling on an imaginary tie before he returned to normal and spawned a basketball in his hand. "Happy trails Shooting Star."

With a single slamdunk, Mabel was knocked to the ground once more and finally returned to the conscious realm.

"Hey, I think she's waking up!" the familiar voice of Dipper exclaimed hopefully as his sister slowly awoken. "Oh thank goodness you're alright!" he added hugging Mabel. "Thanks Dipper."

"You know, maybe you should just sit the rest of the game out." Ford suggested sitting his great-niece down on the bench. "And maybe we can get an ice pack for you when we get home too."

"Yeah yeah, speaking of home," Mabel said finally about to confess. "there's something that I've wanted to say for ages. Remember when the rift cracked in your backpack Dipper?" she asked. "Yeah, you were still kinda to blame for it but it was just an accident. No harm no foul." her brother stated. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, that's not the whole story." the little girl revealed. "When I got super torn up about you potentially staying in Gravity Falls when the summer ended to be Ford's apprentice, I accidentally took the wrong backpack that conveniently had that rift thingy you two were all hush-hush about."

"How did she know?" Ford gasped in shock. "Wait, a rift? What's going on?" Maka wondered just as puzzled. "Anyway, when I wished for summer to last forever in came a chubby time-traveler Dipper & I met once who said he can use it to do so. But it turned out he was actually possessed by Bill."

"Meaning..." Dipper pressed on. "I gave the rift to the insanely handsome and intelligent Bill Cipher." Mabel finally revealed. "I hope you can forgive me."

"It's fine Mabel." Dipper said quietly, having now learned of what really caused Weirdmageddon. "Phew, glad to resolve that after so long!" Mabel sighed in relief. "Now then, who wants to 1v1 m-"

"I don't forgive you."

"W-w-what?"

The atmosphere of the basketball court soon turned dark as soon as Dipper said those four fateful words. Everyone was at a complete loss over what just happened. Even Soos dropped his usual jolly nature as his blood ran cold. "Oh no."

"I said I don't forgive you. Listen Mabel, I know you can be selfish at times but this is the last straw." Dipper continued, his voice remaining tranquil despite his anger. "You deliberately endangered the lives of millions of people not just across the world, but the whole universe as well, just because you wanted to stay an annoying little brat."

"Now settle down, we can just talk it out and-" Tsubaki tried to calm everyone down before she was interrupted. "We are talking this out, and we don't want any interruptions." Dipper coldly remarked returning to his sister. "You really think that you expect to be rewarded after all the horrible things you've done to the people you claim to care about? If it weren't for you, I could've had the perfect summer with a cool girlfriend and apprenticeship! But you didn't want me to be happy or chase my dreams, you only want what makes you happy like forcing me to screw with time so that you can win a stupid pig, helping you pursue a hopeless crush or making me give up your future!"

"Please Dipper, cease this insulting of your sister at once!" Ford scolded the younger boy. "This is between siblings Ford, go find your own to call out!" Dipper shouted harshly, stopping the grunkle in his tracks and bringing tears to his eyes. "I know you're angry Dipper, but please don't take this out on your family!" Mabel exclaimed. "Besides you're one to talk for me being selfish! Remember Summerween or when you were jealous of me being taller than you?!"

"Okay, you're right on those but at least they didn't lead me to intentionally hand over the one thing that Bill wanted to use to destroy the universe!" Dipper screamed hotly. "Okay, you must break it up immediately!" Tsubaki ordered. "You're better than this Tsubaki, don't side with someone who'll take you for granted like Mabel!" the boy continued ranting. "Well then stop making everyone go against me!" Mabel replied just as furious. "You'll only abandon them because you love ditching the ones who care about you!"

"We aren't taking sides, we just want you to resolve this peacefully!" Kid shouted. "But how can we..." the twins said in unison. "WHEN YOU'RE BENT ON RUINING MY LIFE?!"

All was silent in the court once more until Dipper made one last declaration. "For someone who claims to be a good person, you sure are no better than Bill."

"I was going to say the same to you." Mabel choked before she ran off crying. "Mabel, please come back! I'm sorry for what I said, I was just blind!" her brother exclaimed giving chase. "Please just listen!"

Again the basketball court was deathly calm, everybody remaining staring in disbelief over what just occurred. It was only that the silence broke when Soos said two words he never thought he would say. "Holy shit."

"Wait, did Dipper say 'screw with time'? What did you do last summer?!" Maka exclaimed. The author remained silent for a few more moments to collect his thoughts, no doubt believing he was the only one at fault for making Dipper keep the rift's existence between the two of them, before he sighed.

"I think it's time we had a talk." He, Soos and Wendy sat down on the bench as the DWMA kids gathered around them like grandchildren excited to hear stories from their grandpa. "Now our story begins like most stories do with an attractive youth dreaming of more. This one in particular is about a strapping young genius and his perpetual motion machine."

"I'm truly sorry Mr. Pines, but what just transpired reminds me. I must have a word with my father about something." Kid said racing back to the academy. "What's he running off for?" Crona wondered. "That's another story entirely," Ford answered. "but for now, let's focus on this one."

"Just listen Mabel, we both have every right to get mad!" Dipper exclaimed as he lost track of Mabel more and more. Eventually when he ran out of breath, he stopped in the middle of the street and sat on some steps to silently cry over the ruination of their bond. Suddenly a door opened followed by a familiar voice. "Something the matter Dipper?"

"Oh, hello Professor Stein!" Dipper hurriedly exclaimed rising to his feet, getting a good look at his current location, a rather blocky grey-colored building decorated with stitches and arrows. "How did I get so far away from the city?" he wondered to himself before turning to the mad scientist. "Uh, is this your place sir?"

"Why yes, it's my lab." Stein answered throwing away a burnt out cigarette. "Would you like to come in?" he offered the lad. "Why of course doctor, your lab must seem really cool!" Dipper excitedly accepted following Stein inside. "Thank you Dipper. And please, just call me Frank."

The interior of the lab looked very ominous representing the Meister's emotionless love of science but also seemed a bit homely at the same time with sofas and a coffee table. But the most peculiar furnishing was a pair of disembodied hands being pickled inside a jar labeled "George R", much to Dipper's confusion as he picked up the jar. "Uh, who's George?"

"Don't touch, don't ask." Stein coldly ordered him taking the jar away. "Understand?" Dipper wordlessly nodded before he laid down on the nearby couch. "Now tell me, what is happening between you and Mabel?" the scientist asked displaying a surprisingly warm, even fatherly nature while sitting on the couch across. "I've heard what you said from inside when you found my lab. Is something the matter?"

With a deep sigh, Dipper began his story. "It all started late last summer a few days before our birthday on August 31st. After I saved Ford from an abandoned alien spaceship, he offered to make me his apprentice when the summer was over, but that meant leaving Mabel behind. It was absolutely suffocating to see her so sad like that. But then everything changed with that giant X in the sky that marked the beginning of Weirdmageddon."

"So it's like when that event began while we were in Gravity Falls rescuing Ms. Northwest." Stein commented. "I suppose judging by how panicked you were, Mabel didn't truly reveal what happened until today?"

"Yep. Turns out that when Ford returned to our universe through a portal he built that Stan used, the creation of a dimensional rift came with." Dipper continued. "He made me promise that I would not talk to anyone else about it except for him, not even Mabel. But now that proved to be our undoing and here we are."

"I see." Franken stated turning his screw. "You know Dipper, you kind of remind me of myself when I was a boy. Clever, determined, hungry for answers. But unlike you, I was a bit unstable in my search which often lead me to maim my fellow students. And yes, that is indeed where those hands came from."

"They were from that George guy, right?" Dipper asked. "Indeed, but thankfully he's still alive and with a pair of prosthetics that I helped build." Stein answered. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that while our mistakes can define us from time to time, they can also help us grow as human beings. I should know because like your family, I've made a few rash decisions involving yellow-colored manipulators myself."

"You're talking about Medusa, right?" Dipper continued. "Indeed. She actually beckoned me to side with her using my weakness of madness." Stein explained. "Thankfully I was able to come back thanks to Maka and Marie, but hearing what happened between you and Mabel just can't stop reminding me of that time."

"You know, you actually aren't as nuts as you claim to be." the boy remarked rising from his spot on the couch. "Maybe you've got a few screws loose, no pun intended, but when it all comes down to it, you're a surprisingly understanding guy."

"Thank you Dipper, and good to see a fellow genius sit down with me for once without fearing for his life." Frank replied tousling his hair. "Hey speaking of which, where did that big screw on your head come from? And how did you get all those stitches too?" Dipper wondered to which Stein replied with a sinister snicker. "Now that's a funny story."

Meanwhile with Death the Kid, he was set on asking his father about the connection the two of them shared with Asura. Marching toward the Death Room, he opened the door and went through the guillotine lined path to find Lord Death standing in front of his mirror with Eibon of all people next to him, even though they told the Sorcerer yesterday to stay down in the Secret Vault.

"Do you think he's learned about you-know-what yet?" Eibon asked his old friend. "I am not sure Eibon, but I dread the lad's reaction to it once he finds us." Death responded. "It's like you said, why must there be so many secrets?"

Suddenly Eibon noticed Death's son right in front of the two with his arms crossed. "Uh, my friend?" he stated. "What is it now Eibon?" the Shinigami asked before he realized who had walked in on them. "He's right in front of us, isn't he?"

"Indeed I am father." Kid answered coldly. "Is it true Asura is my brother?" he asked. "And if so, why did you keep this from me for ages?"

"So it's come to this." Death muttered defeatedly. "Indeed, Asura is your brother, created from a bit of myself just like you. But since he turned into such a reprehensible being, I couldn't bear to let you know that you were related to an embodiment of evil."

"And just as importantly, how did you leave the Vault when we specifically told you to stay down there Eibon?" Kid said turning to the aforementioned Sorcerer. "I simply couldn't stay down there any longer. I had to learn what had happened while I was away plus it was awfully dusty in there." Eibon explained. "I am terribly sorry for disobeying you."

"And I'm sorry for keeping secrets from you for eight hundred years. I do hope you can forgive us, especially me." Death stated miserably just as he felt his son hug him. "I'm sorry for not knowing any better father. Though I will accept this family secret more maturely than someone else I know."

"Thank you Kid for understanding." Death responded hugging the younger Death God back. "Wait, who is that someone else who isn't being mature?" he asked. "It's about the Pines twins."

Speaking of the Pines, Ford was rushing through the Academy halls in search of Mabel, thoughts about how the argument between her and Dipper was basically his fault for swearing Dipper to keep the rift a secret from everyone.

"I was an utter fool to make Dipper promise me! No, I was a fool to even build the portal in the first place!" the polydactyl muttered to himself suddenly skidding to a stop. "Whoa mama! I mean, excuse me miss but could you please tell me where my great-niece is?" he asked a short blonde woman with rather bizarre facial features. "She's about yay-high, mouth full of braces, colorful sweater, tears in her eyes after she was deemed worse than our family's arch-enemy by her own brother?"

"I think I may have seen someone like that." Auntie answered. "She probably went thataway." she revealed pointing to her right. "Thank you so much madame!" Ford exclaimed rushing to that direction, desperate to comfort the younger girl but was too blind to realize he had ran into a familiar woman and their glasses landed on the floor. "Can you watch where you're going miss?!"

"Why don't you watch where you're going? Now where are my glasses?!" the woman exclaimed grabbing Ford's glasses while he grabbed the woman's, and when he put them on he found Azusa right in front of him wearing his glasses. "Well this is awkward." Azusa commented. "Now can I have my glasses back?"

"Terribly sorry, as much I'd hate to say it." Ford apologized taking back his eyewear. "So, what were you up to?" he glowered at the East Asian Death Scythe. "That should be none of your business. How about you?" Yumi asked just as miffed. "I'm simply looking for Mabel. Have you seen her come by lately?" the author inquired. "I did. She was awfully miserable over something relating to her brother so Joe and I led her to the overnight rooms."

"Good, now where are those rooms?" Ford continued, his nervousness alleviating before Azusa made the big reveal. "You wouldn't miss them, they look like a dungeon."

"A WHAT?!" the author shouted as his concern turned to anger at the Death Scythe.

"So you're telling me these so-called overnight rooms is a goddamn dungeon?!" Ford ranted loudly while being led through the DWMA's underground by Azusa and Joe Buttakaki. "Chill out Mr. Pines, you're getting it wrong!" Joe tried to calm his nerves. "The dungeon is further down with a few torture rooms. Thankfully we barely use those."

"Thank you for your kindness Joe, but that doesn't change the fact that Mabel is so depressed, she locked herself in a flipping prison!" Ford shouted as they reached one of the overnight rooms where they could hear Mabel quietly sobbing while curled up into a ball. "M-Mabel, may I come in?"

Mabel replied with a faint groan before Ford stepped in. "Listen sweetheart, I know you may think you're to blame for what happened last summer, but I'd say the same to myself as well. If it were me instead, I would be just as gullible as you were." he calmly said stroking her hair. "Just please show me your smile again so that I can help you and Dipper make amends."

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Mabel finally spoke up in a shockingly more callous tone. "You're actually caring for your family! But then again, old Pine Tree is beyond saving anyway."

"That isn't the Mabel I know! It can only be-" Ford exclaimed before Mabel rose up and turned around, revealing sharp teeth and the faintest third eye on her forehead. "Long time no see Stanford. It's me, Anti-Mabel!" Anti-Mabel cheerfully greeted him. "Did you really think I was gone forever?"

"How did you come back, and how are you possessing your good self?!" the six-fingered man asked terrified. "You can thank Kishin Cipher for that wrinkles! When he found me drifting through the mindscape plotting my revenge after I was defeated by you and my alternate selves, he made me more powerful than ever! Once I get rid of all of you, I can steal that Kishin soul for him and be paid handsomely!"

"I won't let you Anti-Mabel!" the old man shouted whipping out a laser pistol. "And what Kishin soul are you talking about?" he asked. "Lord Death actually keeps one amongst the crosses in his-" Joe began before Azusa shut him up. "Can you not Joe?"

"Oh come now Sixer, you wouldn't hurt your own family would you?" the evil Mabel said trying to get Ford to surrender. "My foolish other me has already suffered enough from her brother, but now another member of her family decides to ruin her life! It's times like these where Stanley of all people seems like the only Pines that could qualify as a good person."

"Azusa, Joe, get everyone possible and meet me in the Death Room." Ford lividly muttered, his hands twitching before dropping his firearm and reeled his arm back while the two ran away. "Oh look at that, I was right." were the last words Anti-Mabel said before Ford's fist gave her an overtly friendly greeting.

With the ting of a wineglass, the meeting in the Death Room began. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice." Ford announced to an audience of the remaining Mystery Meisters, Marie, Azusa, Joe, Eibon, among others while Lord Death stood next to him. "Today the reason I've gathered everyone here is because we have a new crisis on our hands."

He picked up the unconscious body of his great-niece and held it high, revealing the bruise mark on her face. "Mabel here has come under the control of an evil version of herself from another dimension that has allied with Kishin Cipher. Although I have put her to sleep, as much as I hated to, she stated her motives of entering the Death Room to retrieve the soul of Asura."

"Are you sure about that?" Dipper snarked standing next to Stein. "I bet she's only faking it to earn our sympathy." He was then ordered to shush by the Meister. "Anyway, although it may seem there's no way to rescue her, we actually do know of a method to do so." Ford continued. "We must go inside her mind itself and stop the source before it can get any worse."

"Question!" an innocent-looking young girl with mahogany brown hair chimed in with a raise of her hand. "Yes young lady?" Ford said preparing for any questions. "Are we like going to dissect her or something?" the girl asked, much to everyone's confusion. "No we aren't! I think." another girl with deep blue eyes and long blonde hair featuring a headband answered. "What are we going to do sir?"

"Pardon me for being rude, but how does going inside her mind equal dissection?!" Ford exclaimed irritatedly. "Sorry mister, don't mind Meme! She's just a bit out there." yet another girl with indigo eyes apologized for her. Stanford just turned to Death and asked "Let me guess, are they not in the EAT class?"

"Yessir, NOT class." Death answered. "Okay, would anyone like to take the floor for me?" Ford offered to his audience, and they answered by turning to Dipper. The boy just sighed and stepped to his great-uncle's side. "What we need to do is recite a certain incantation that will allow us entry into Mabel's mindscape. But since Bill is already inside it, there's no doubt he's waiting for us. So we need to suit up."

"We can use Mabel's drawings!" Patty exclaimed. "They are meant to be combat uniforms after all." she suggested and everyone agreed.

"Come to think of it, this reminds me of a plan Sid's been thinking of before he left called the Spartoi." Stein revealed. "A group of some of Death Weapon Meister Academy's most gifted students, among others. No offense to Mr. Hero or the girls of the NOT class."

"None taken." the aforementioned students responded. "But if we want to stop Kishin Cipher once and for all, all of the Pines must play an important role." Stein continued. "Now then, time to suit up."

Another montage of clothes-making later, the rest of the Mystery Meisters now had their own combat outfits.

Ford wore a light-colored buttonless shirt, simple khakis, a belt buckle with a cat symbol on it and a white coat bearing a six-fingered hand on the back.

Soos was now clad in tan overalls with a question mark on the front pocket, a black undershirt and wore his cap backwards.

Pacifica retained her black leggings & cream boots, but in place of her usual attire was a purple dress with a pink button-up frilled shirt that had llama fur cuffs and went down to a white sash.

Gideon had on a baby blue martial arts uniform and a dark blue undershirt with his pentagram symbol stitched onto the left sleeve.

And finally, McGucket wore a white-lined brown & black suit and a pair of green-tinted goggles.

The EAT students, except Hero, all had similarly colored uniforms of blue and white while the NOT girls had their regular clothing on.

"This is it everyone, our last foe before returning home." Soos declared lighting nine candles. "One question, how do we get into Mabel's head? I mean, we can't put our hands on her head at the same time, then there wouldn't be enough room!"

"I got an idea. Why don't one group go in first and then everyone else comes in as reinforcements?" Pacifica suggested. "Good idea there Pacifica." Maka agreed. "Now let's go over who will go first. Dipper, Pacifica, Mr. Pines, Kid, Black Star, Soos, Wendy and Crona will be the first team. Kilik, Ox, Kim and Hero are the second. And finally Gideon, Blair, Stein, Mr. McGucket and the NOT class are the third one."

"Nice idea Bishop 2." Soos complimented to the Scythe Meister's surprise. "Uh, what did you just call me?" Maka asked. "It's your codename dude. We all gotta have cool codenames if we're going on this risky mission. For example, our team is themed after chess, Ox's has a playing card theme and Gideon's is for Arcana."

"I'm not sure if I was told about this earlier, but carry on." Ox commented bluntly. "Well, see you all later." he added as Ford began the ritual. "Now, are we all mentally prepared for this?" he challenged to his teammates. "Make sure you have weapons by your side."

With a resigned sigh, Maka chose her father to be her temporary weapon until Soul was saved. Likewise, Ford and Azusa shared a tense glare before she became his temporary weapon. "Now that everyone's prepared, well; hope our sanities are intact before we fight Bill." He pressed his hand on Mabel's forehead and the others followed before the scientist began chanting. "Videntis omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus."

Ford continued chanting which caused everyone's eyes to glow a bright blue. "Habeus corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium magister mentium magister mentium!" In a bright azure flash, the group fell asleep, meaning they have finally entered Mabel's mind.

Dipper slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar place. This was none other than Mabel's accursed dream world of Mabeland. "Oh God, not this place again." he moaned before the others got up. "What the hell is this weirdo place? Are we sure this is Mabel's head?" Black Star wondered brushing the back of his head. "Maybe we should ask that black and white person over there."

The team tiptoed towards a monochrome version of Mabel wearing a suit patterned sweater. "There is another dimension, beyond that which is known to man." the Mabel explained. "A dimension not only of sight and sound; but of mind as well. Your next stop, a land of both shadow & substance, of things and ideas. I will be your guide as you cross into: Neo Mabeland."

The monochrome Mabel pulled back a curtain to reveal the Mabeland that Dipper, Wendy and Soos knew, but it was more devastated & gloomy reflecting Mabel's current mindset and Anti-Mabel's dominance over her. "To your left is what was once dubbed Bubblegum Alley, formerly a place of childlike wonder similar to the rest of Mabeland." she narrated. "Now it is a shell of its former self, following a mental coup d'etat performed by an evil Mabel under orders from a certain someone."

"Okay, can someone explain what Mabel's doing here when she should be held captive?" Liz commented. "I am not the Mabel you should recognize, but rather a Mabel formed from her own subconscious that shall serve as your guide through this world. You may call me Twilight Mabel."

"Isn't that kind of like in that old show?" Crona asked. "Indeed it is Crona. Now then, follow me." Twilight Mabel replied leading the others on their path. "This place was once a paradise of color and fun, that is until a certain someone took things too far when secrets were revealed."

"Can you blame me? Mabel full-on intentionally caused the end of the-" Dipper shouted before Pacifica smacked him in the face. "Okay, that's got to stop Dipper!" she interrupted him. "I know you're super pissed about what she did, but who cares?! If you or Ford were in her shoes, chances are the exact same thing would happen!"

"But she had no idea what it was yet handed it over anyway!" Dipper defended himself. "Well, that's pretty much my fault." Ford confessed. "If only I weren't so secretive and untrusting of others back then."

"Yes indeed, the power of trust can be a double-edged sword." Twilight Mabel interrupted. "On one hand it feels good to be trusted, but on the other-"

"SHUT YOUR DAMN NARRATING ALREADY!" Black Star screamed smacking Twilight Mabel on the back of her head. "I am only trying to assist you my friends, and give some important life lessons in a very mentally scarring fashion." she calmly stated. "This Mabel's right, what matters now is finding our Mabel." Spirit stated. "So where to?"

"I believe your first step should be following me." Twilight Mabel replied. "Step right this way toward the ice cream beach." she announced walking towards a seemingly normal beach where a group of cartoonish dogs stood with their backs turned to the group and arms spread out over a sea of orange juice.

The heroes just stared silently in wonder at their current surroundings, contemplating how a little girl's broken heart would affect her this much. Then suddenly they heard a loud moan. "What was that?!" Pacifica shouted pulling out a basic spear. The troop frantically looked around the shore fearing that enemies might be coming. Luckily, none were coming from behind them, but rather rising from the orange water.

"Are those supposed to be from Mabel's imagination?" Tsubaki wondered gazing upon the monsters that took the shape of cuddly animals and many odd beings, led by the being Dipper had dreaded the most ever since he first stepped foot. "Yo, what up brahs! It's me, the new and improved Dippy Fresh!"

"W-what even is that?!" Kid exclaimed resisting the urge to laugh. "I'm Dipper's superior and more supportive counterpart assigned by my master to protect her at all costs." Dippy Fresh stated summoning an exact replica of Excalibur. "FOOL! My power can be imitated, but never completely duplicated!" the real Excalibur cried out in defiance. "Come at us with everything you've got imposter!"

"Sure thing old guy!" Dippy Fresh declared summoning more monsters crafted from Mabel's mind to his aid. "You just had to open that big nonexistent mouth of yours, didn't you?" Dipper groaned sighing. "I think we might need reinforcements!"

"You mean contacting Death? Which one of us brought a mirror?" Black Star wondered before the rest of the team shrugged. "Dammit, we're gonna need a good reflective surface to use!" he muttered. "Or we could use my Shinigami powers," Kid suggested. "but I'm quite preoccupied right now!"

"I think I know how." Dipper said glaring at his radical counterpart who was already waiting for a battle. "Come on lamebrain, I'm waiting!" he called out casually spinning his sword around. His smug attitude was soon immediately broken when Dipper came charging and their blades clashed. "Tell me where my sister is, or else!"

"Fat chance dude! Why would she ever want to see you again after all you've done?!" Dippy chided backflipping away and firing a black beam from his blade. Dipper on the other hand sliced it in two and sent its halves flying towards the nearest beasts. "I may have screwed up on that part, but I can learn! And she can learn too!"

"Learning's for chumps anyway!" Dippy Fresh shouted with a smug grin continuing to seemingly gain the upper hand. "Why can't more people wear their hats backwards, say outdated catchphrases and disrespect authority like me?"

"You know what, you're right." Dipper agreed with his mirror self. "WHY CAN'T MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU HAVE THEIR HEADS BACKWARDS?!" With a single stab through his mouth, Dippy Fresh's overconfidence became as broken as his neck as Dipper skewered his sword through and twisted his head in a perfect rotation, ending him once and for all. "Must've been dark times, those 90s."

Dipper picked up his fallen dream version's visor and let out a puff of air on it, fogging up the lenses and allowing him to contact Death. "42-42-564, use this to knock on Death's door." he chanted causing Lord Death to appear on the lenses. "Hey Lord Death."

"Howdy and hello my boy!" the Shinigami cheerfully greeted. "Whoa, what happened here? Did you manage to locate Mabel yet?" he asked. "No, we're currently outnumbered by a bunch of monsters that have been summoned, and we need help! Send in everyone!"

"Which ones?" Death responded. "EVERYONE!" the boy screamed out startling the headmaster of the Academy. "Okey dokie then, the rest will be here in a jiffy!" The message cut off just as a shadowy tendril emerging from Dippy Fresh's arm snatched the visor from Dipper's hands and smashed it. "Uh uh uh lamer!"

Dippy Fresh let out a ghastly laugh while his eyes turned blood red, his skin white as bone and his radical attire being replaced with rags. "Not cool how you broke my neck there dude!" he shouted in a menacing deeper voice. "Now let's see how YOU made me feel!"

"You leave him alone!" Ox cried out dropping from above to impale Dippy Fresh with his spear. Kilik & the Pots, Kim & Jackie, Hero & Mai, Gideon, Blair, McGucket, Stein & Marie and the NOT girls soon followed. "Knew you would all come through!" Dipper cheered. "Anything for you kid!" McGucket exclaimed. "So what's all this?"

"We're going to need someone to cover for us while we find Mabel! Are you all willing to help?" Ford explained. "Will do Mr. Pines!" Tsugumi said as she and her three Meisters Meme, Anya & Ao saluted. "Good! I got a new plan!" Dipper announced. "Queen, Bishops 1 & 2, Rook, Knight, Pawns 1, 2 & 3, Jack, Deuce, Ace, Chariot, Empress, Hermit & Hierophant are all coming with me! That tower over there is where I found Mabel last time, so she must be there!"

"I knew those codenames would become a thing!" Soos cheered before their group raced toward a sandcastle while Dippy Fresh reemerged. "No no no, they can't reach the real Mabel!" he shouted angrily. "Xyler, Craz, after them!"

A pair of knights in rusted black armor nodded to their master before giving pursuit, preparing their weapons to kill. The heroes continued racing toward their destination when the knights attacked. "None shall pass bro!" the first knight declared and the second added "Stand down or face our awesome wrath!"

"You really aren't making yourselves look threatening when you're speaking like surfer dudes." Stein remarked smashing their helmets to pieces with Marie's hammer form, revealing a duo of brightly-colored radical young men underneath, one with blue hair while the other was a blonde with a tan. "Xyler and Craz?" Dipper exclaimed. "Don't tell me Kishin Cipher has you under his control too!"

"Kinda brah, we were just LARPing when that evil Mabel jazzed on in and took over." Xyler explained. "But now that you guys are here, we can help you save Mabel!" Craz added. "Actually, this is our mission alone." Wendy politely refused. "But you guys can help out by taking out the monsters chasing after us!"

"Sounds good to us dude!" the dream boy duo shouted picking up a skateboard and a keytar to fight with while the group continued onward. When they finally reached the top of the tower, Mabel stood with her back turned. "Mabel, it's us. We're here to rescue you." Dipper assured putting a hand on his sister's shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything. Think you could forgive me?"

"LOL, forgiveness is for dorks! Everyone loves me because they think I'm silly!" Mabel exclaimed squishing her cheeks. "That's not Mabel!" Ford shouted pointing Azusa at the girl. "Yeah, she can be kinda silly, but I'm pretty sure she would never say forgiveness is for dorks." Pacifica added.

"Naw bros, this is totally what Mabel is like!" Dippy Fresh declared suddenly behind them while performing a goofy dance. "You just have to accept it and-"

"I would let you finish, but YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!" Dipper finally snapped performing a mighty slash that interrupted his 90s self's free-to-play game-esque jig and sent him falling to the ground below. "Now as for you."

"Oops, looks like my cover's been blown!" Anti-Mabel chirped dropping the act and revealing the real Mabel inside a cage. "You think you're so much smarter, but you'll never be as mature as I am!"

"So is your definition of mature being a really annoying sadist?" Maka snarked preparing Spirit for a battle. "Yeah, kinda." Anti-Mabel hissed before she summoned a large stuffed cat dressed as a judge behind her. "Behold my partner Judge Kitty Kitty Meow Meow Face-Shwartztein! And of course, he shall judge you!"

"Yer all guilty!" the cat shouted pounding his tiny gavel and made them lose their footing. "Court is now in session! And the crime: disrespecting our new lord & master and your own sister as well!"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Dipper screamed stabbing Anti-Mabel with Excalibur. "Can we just put this blaming to rest and let us have Mabel already?!" The boy was on the verge of tears, both from irritation over the inhabitants of Neo-Mabeland and regret from yelling at her earlier. "I promise, the two of us can be siblings and never fight again! We can patch things up, I'm sure of it! Just please, please...give me back my sister."

There was dead silence in the area before Anti-Mabel let out a hoarse, high-pitched, hateful laugh and wiped a tear from her eye. "Gotta say Pine Tree, you are pretty stupid when emotional!" she sighed. "Maybe a little knock on the head will fix things." The feline judge over her readied his gavel for the final blow. Dipper closed his eyes in acceptance of his fate as the hammer just about reached his face.

Until Twilight Mabel, Maka and Spirit blocked it. The weapons struggled against each other as the regretful brother opened his eyes in shock. "Go, save Mabel! We'll take it from here!" Maka urged him. "But what about you guys?!" Dipper asked. "It's okay. She's family, and families always protect each other." Twilight Mabel assured with a grin.

"How could you Twilight Mabel?! I thought Mabels had to stick together!" Anti-Mabel shouted in disbelief. "I think the proper term would be 'Family sticks together.' Don't you have one of your own in your world?" Twilight Mabel coldly inquired. "Of course I did! They were all a bunch of fools anyway." the other Mabel answered. "An incorrigible flirt, a charity obsessed hippie, a wannabe video star & part-time DJ and the first pig to ever be arrested for armed robbery! They were all just as anti-lovable as I am, and I will make sure that I prove love is nothing but for losers!"

"Are you truly sure about that?" Spirit stated. "I'm definitely a pervert who lost his wife because of it, not gonna lie, but I know that deep down my sweet baby girl still loves me! Even with our differences, there's no doubt that I will stick by Maka every step of the way no matter what!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Anti-Mabel retaliated with a negative-colored rainbow that swept Maka & Twilight Mabel off their feet. What she didn't account for was Dipper trying to unlock the cage his real sister was trapped in. "Uh, anyone got a lock pick?"

"I think Ragnarok can help." Crona stated confidently while his Black Blood partner sprouted from out his vest. "This'll be easy-peesy!" Ragnarok declared musing over the cage door before he decided to up and rip the door off, tossing Mabel out with it.

The girl slowly got up before her brother quickly embraced her while bursting into tears. "I am so sorry Mabel! I'm sorry I got so mad, that I said you were no better than Bill, and that I basically got you into this mess! Please just forgive me already! It's okay if you don't, because I'm really stu-"

Mabel shushed him with her trademark tin grin. "Oh quit it bro. You were pretty stupid, but I was too." she whispered hugging him tight. "We can be stupid together."

"Thank you Mabel, I really needed that." Dipper stated as they broke and wiped off his tears. "Awkward sibling hug?" he offered spreading out his arms. "Stupid sibling hug." the sweater girl replied and they finally embraced after so long, with a casual "Pat pat." added in as well.

"Kids!" Ford cried rushing up to hug them. "I am so glad you decided to be stupid together! Now we can-" He was interrupted by Anti-Mabel striking him in the back. He dropped the kids and was brought to his knees, writhing in agony. "We can't...let you win."

"Stanford!" Azusa shouted using her wavelength to guard her current Meister. "Azusa, you saved me." the polydactyl gasped in wonder. "We may have our differences, but one thing's for certain." Yumi declared. "The kids can never be harmed on our watch."

The two, alongside Stein dual-wielding Marie & Spirit, charged at Anti-Mabel ready to defend the children even if it costed them their lives. "If you think teamwork can help you, then so be it!" the anti-lovable Mabel challenged before Shwartzstein merged with her, forming a feral pink cat creature with another eye atop its forehead.

The only sounds coming out of Anti-Mabel's mouth now were loud roars while bearing its grappling hook claws. It lunged at the adults ready to maul them before the Pines twins came to their defense, both wielding Excalibur. "Leave our friends alone!"

"So it's just down to the Pines family now?" the empowered Anti-Mabel snarled. "I can accept that. Just need the rest of the pieces off the board!" With a single swipe of her hand, the rest of the Mystery Meisters were blasted out of the tower, destroying the walls and leaving only Dipper, Mabel & Ford behind. "Come and face me you three! Or are you just going to stay there frightened?"

"You can't scare us any longer!" Ford growled readying his fists in lieu of Azusa before his great-nephew & niece stopped him. "Rest Grunkle Ford, and bring back the others." Dipper commanded him. "We'll take Anti-Mabel from here." Mabel added. "And mark my words, we'll finish this and go home."

Ford simply nodded and raced downstairs while the twins readied themselves. "Oh just cut it! We all know they'll just die anyway no matter what you'll do, and you won't even care!" Anti-Mabel snapped. The twins however gave no response while holding Excalibur together. "Can't say we blame you Anti-Mabel."

The evil Mabel raised a brow in both confusion and fear. "We can be stupid, we can be silly, heck! We can be selfish too!" the prime Mabel declared. "But we're still kids. Well, only post-preteens but you get our point."

"There's still time for us to grow, to change." Dipper added. "And there's still time for us to stop you, save the universe and our loved ones. People can make really big mistakes, but we can't let them define us for the rest of our lives."

"They can help us develop our lives." Mabel concluded while they glimmered with Excalibur's energy. "In other words, it's finally time for us to grow up."

With a mad dash towards Anti-Mabel, the twins shined brighter than they could ever imagine and they finally stabbed her in the chest.

"FAAAAAAMILY FIIIIINISHEEEEERRRRR!"

Anti-Mabel's jaw dropped in complete and utter fear as the Holy Sword's blade slowly dragged itself upwards toward her head. She barely had enough time to scream out loud when it sliced her in half and the resulting explosion consumed her. "NO! NOOOOOO!"

"We...we did it." Dipper gasped for breath. "Yeah. Guess we did." Mabel added before they fell to the ground. Luckily for them, there was no one else except for all their friends when they finally landed. "KIDS!" Ford cried out picking them up off the sand. "Are you two all right? Exhale once if yes!"

"Don't be such a worrywart Ford, we're fine." Mabel stated reassuringly. "Yeah, we stopped Anti-Mabel, saved Mabel and our family bond is stronger than ever." Dipper added. "Indeed it was children." Excalibur commented. "But this can be seen as only the final exam! With her out of the way, our next target should be none other than Kishin Cipher!"

"Excalibur is right. And I shall be behind you every step of the way." Twilight Mabel responded as Mabeland began to fade away. "Well, guess this is goodbye." Dipper bade farewell to their guide Mabel. "Thank you for helping us find my sister."

"You are very welcome my alternative brother." Twilight Mabel smiled before she began to fade to white as well. "We all shall meet again someday, in the magical world of Mabeland."

Mabel moaned as she opened her eyes and before her was a bright blue sky. "What happened? Where am I?" she groaned rubbing her head and turned around to see her friends' smiling faces. "Everyone."

"You're safe here Mabel. With us." Dipper declared hugging his twin one last time. "And you know who won't be safe?"

"Right." Mabel replied gazing at Lord Death's mirror. "Kishin Cipher."

"Bon voyage children. And when you find Stanley, tell him I said hello!" Death said turning his mirror into a portal. "But what about you?" Ford asked. "You probably can't come with us, so how can it be possible?"

"Oh I have my ways Stanford." Death stated. "Now off you go everyone! Go and save the world!" The Mystery Meisters, plus their six new allies, climbed into the mirror portal that would lead them to Gravity Falls, leaving Dipper and Mabel as the only ones left.

"Ready to head into the unknown?"

"Nope. But let's do it."

With that, the twins disappeared into the portal leaving only Death, Eibon and Joe behind in the Death Room. "Joe, Eibon!"

"Yes Lord Death?" the two responded willing to follow any command he gave them.

"Let's roll up our sleeves and get to work!"

IT! IS! FINISHED! After so long, Chapter 12 is finally completed! And I'm just so happy to finally get this over with since I have been writing it since November. Hopefully it was all worth it my loyal fans and I hope to see you next time on the penultimate chapter of Gravity Soul! But first, a little word from Twilight Mabel.

"It's amazing how far our heroes have come." Twilight Mabel commented. "What started as teaming up against an Eyebat to saving the universe from the combined forces of their greatest foes. It makes me so proud of our characters for developing so much, our author for staying so dedicated to his tales and you, the audience for staying by all the-"

Suddenly a pair of bandages wrapped around Twilight Mabel's mouth as Kishin Cipher came into view. "So Pine Tree, Shooting Star and their little pilgrimage are coming back huh? Adorable!" he grinned strangling the narrating Mabel to death before he glared at the readers. "Be sure to come back next time for my grand return to the story! And remember, I'M ALWAYS WATCHING YOU!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

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