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durgetavoc · 1 month ago

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Yes I really want to know the horrors of the shit bucket. I’m quite surprised that he isn’t obsessed with cleanliness. He always struck me as the type but then again… I guess I’m wrong.

Oh god, here we go then.

SPOILERS FOR THE HOUSE OF HOPE

(CW for...The Shit Bucket Guy, obviously)

So, if we ever decide to go steal the Orphic Hammer, we can go visit The House of Hope, there, we obviously find Raphael's collection of artifacts, his eternal debtors, and one of them is… This guy.

You should know that all eternal debtors are condemned to a certain task/action. It's difficult to know if this has anything to do with their contract with Raphael, if it is a distortion of an already existing trait of their personality (for example, the Perfect Eternal Debtor, the Theologist Eternal Debtor or even the Voyeur Eternal Debtor) or if it's a way to completely dehumanize them (Loyal Eternal Debtor…My beloved :( ). It seems to be a mix of everything, that wouldn't be surprising if Raphael did what seemed most entertaining to him.

But let's focus on the Shit Bucket Guy, since he's the one that interested us today.

As our affectionate nickname for him indicates, we find him in front of a chamber pot with a visible green odorous cloud above it, which confirms us that it has been used (when you interact with the pot, here what the game says : "An overpowering stench singes your nostrils. Nothing good happened here."). The debtor doesn't appreciate us getting closer to it, and if we ask him if he is its guardian, this is what he answers:

His "name" in the game is "Unclean Eternal Debtor" and if you're taking a look at his face... Yeah, I guess he's not just guarding the pot. When we observe the animation of the character, he walks around the pot, makes a hand gesture to smell it, and that's it.

It has become a running joke in the fandom, particularly for us, little mouses. Those who have been to the House of Hope know about the Shit Bucket Guy... But nobody talks about him.

(Yeah I couldn't help it.)

It's not really surprising, the presence of the chamber pot, and not just any one, RAPHAEL'S, raises other questions. One might wonder if it's not a little OOC coming from someone like him.

Let's take advantage of this question to dig... A little deeper.

Here's, imo of course, why it's somehow relevant to show Raphael's chamber pot and what this tells us about him.

Shall we?

1. Don't be fooled by appearances, he POOPS like us!

Raphael. Raphael. Raphael who embodies sophistication, intellect and danger... Alluring and at the same time fearsome, a fascinating mix. Goddamnit, he's a suave motherfucker, and he fucking knows it.

In video games, it's part of the suspension of disbelief to not talk/show toilet, unless you're in a life simulation game like sims. It's not just taboo since it's one of the most private aspects of our life, but it's also... Not relevant to the intrigue most of the time.

Showing us something that intimate about him disintegrate his mysterious aura. We learnt that Raphaels shits. Yeah, absolutely astonishing. Reminding us that he's exactly at the same level as us. Like the title said, despite his charming manners, his eloquence, his theatrical gestures... He's still human, hells, part human.

2. In the Devil's house.

The first time we meet Raphael, he wastes no time in bringing us to his home, on his own terms. We only see one room, and this is what we see:

Luxurious place, lavish displays of food, ordered furniture... Promising, right? This is how Raphael wants to give as a first impression. I think this scene is perfect as a metaphor. Remember what Gale said? He's taking us to dinner! Like a date, he wants to impress us, seduce us.

But when we're back to this place during our improvised visit, what do we see?

Rotten food. Blood. Skeletons. Mess. Remind me of my room before I have to rush to clean everything because a friend comes over.

By choosing to enter Raphael's home, into his privacy, the game takes us on a tour of his home: we discover what is hidden behind Raphael's character. It is of course expected that we discover his secrets and/or aspects of his personality that he would not wish to reveal, at least not before we make a deal with him.

Haarlep, his incubus, also participates in this demystification. Through them, we can learn about Raphael's sexuality (I'll be quick on this since @bitethedevil did some really good analysis posts about it):

Raphael is only attracted to himself (hence Haarlep's appearance)

He is a bottom pillow prince

And he doesn't last in bed (a valuable information that can be used to anger Raphael later)

Once again, this is another very intimate aspect that is revealed to us. I'm sorry to say it, but Haarlep basically plays the same role as the chamber pot to accentuate the intimacy of the place and also to ridicule Raphael, thus revealing to us what he really is.

3. Raphael hates his father.

Our favorite cambion is having daddy issues, and the chamber pot seems like a nice response to the statue his dad gave him. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" kind of detail, but it's funny to point it out. Show don't tell as it's finest.

4. How bad it is to sell your soul to Raphael.

This one is easy... The Shit Bucket Guy is an example of Raphael's cruelty : "This is what could happen to you if you make a contract with Raphael."

Sure, it's funny because the whole thing is ridiculous: "Guardian of his chamber pot? Seriously?", but it's hard to really laugh at it if you take into account the other eternal debtors. The whole place is designed to make you uncomfortable, because it's not treated as a joke. They had a life, had to ask Raphael for help, and are now reduced to doing something degrading until the end of time. They don't even have a name anymore. They could be your Tav/Durge or your companions...

Suddenly, the temptation to make a contract with Raphael is less appealing after seeing all this, isn't it?

Conclusion : Now the question that burns our lips : What could this guy have done to him to be reduced to this? And why?

My first instinct when I met this character was to think, "oh boy, you must have really pissed off Raphael..." let's be honest, it's the kind of torture you could imagine to your worst enemy or at least a very annoying one.

It could be that, or maybe, mayyybe...

Remember Mephistopheles' statue?

What if Raphael was SO annoyed by this gift that he woke up one day thinking "fuck my dad, fuck his gift" and decided to literally shit on him by putting a chamber pot in front of this statue to express his thanks. And just like any narcissist/paranoid guy, he named a "guard" to be sure no one would spy on him through this (it sounds delirious, but again, we learn that Haarlep was send to distract Raphael, so why not?)

Sure, maybe Shit Bucket Guy annoyed Raphael in the past, but wouldn't that be kinda fucked up that this guy didn't do anything that would justify this treatment? He's just a dude, and Raphael is just a pissed-off daddy's boy (and a very mature one).

Or maybe, Raphael just thinks it's funny. And who are we to discuss a devil's sense of humor?

In any case, sorry Shit Bucket Guy, but it wasn't your lucky day.

PS: Hush, I can hear you wondering "do you think Raphael is scat???" and on this subject I would say: I don't think so, his narcissism is there after all, but he also seems really into humiliation. So maybe it's for the best we don't really know the answer to this question.

After all, only Haarlep can judge him (so the bar is already on the floor).

#I can't believe I wrote this #sweet summer child anon i hope you're satisfied #it was fun to write #bg3!analysis #raphael the cambion #bg3 #house of hope #little mice posting

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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The sweetest fruit

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, sexual tension ]

[description: (Anon Request) Aemond is to meet his future wife from Essos, in whose veins runs the blood of Old Valyria. They've been engaged since they were kids, but he's in no hurry to get married and he's not happy about her arrival. His future wife, however, turns out to be someone completely different than he expected. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond knew this day would come someday. He had known since he was a child. He knew his wife would be a woman from across the Narrow Sea, the blood heiress of Old Valyria of House Vhassar, residing in the Volantis with her family. The thought of her was as distant to him as the continent she was on.

When his mother told him that his fiancée would eventually come to Westeros to marry him, he thought he was going to faint. For some reason he thought that he had more time, at least a couple of years.

He had Alys, who he visited whenever he wanted, satisfying all his needs. He made sure she didn't get pregnant, not wanting to have bastards. The freedom she gave him suited him. He felt like a dragon about to be locked in a dragon pit.

Nevertheless, Volantis was King's Landing's greatest bank and sponsor of some war expeditions. He knew their alliance was of state importance, and he couldn't refuse.

He took his mother's words in silence, clenching his jaw and looking away. He tried not to show how much he disliked this idea and made the decision, that he would fulfill his duties properly.

On the day her family arrived at the royal harbor, a great feast was held in the main hall. He waited until the very end, not wanting to look at her or talk to her. He knew what he looked like. He didn't want to see the bride's look of horror or disappointment that she would have to spread her legs for him in the nearest future.

Finally, however, his mother came for him, saying that everyone was expecting him. He nodded, tense from head to toe, and strode forward down the corridor, his queen mother a few paces behind him. They entered the hall through the side entrance, on the side of the main table.

At first no one noticed them, there was a buzz of conversations, laughter and music to which couples were already dancing. His mother walked over to him and pointed to a girl who had just been talking to Helaena. He felt his throat tighten into a thin knot.

It terrified him how beautiful she was. He thought it would make her even more disappointed with him. His body froze, unable to move, his face completely petrified.

He watched her slender hand go to one of the bowls for a fruit that he had never seen before. A small, dull orange-red ball, the size of an apple, but softer and hairy. She bit into the fruit easily, pursed and licked her lips as she listened intently to his sister. Suddenly her eyes flicked to him.

They stared at each other for a moment, and he felt his heart pounding like a hammer. He felt shivers run through his body as she smiled at him in a way he had never seen a woman smile at a men before.

The corner of her mouth twitched rakishly upwards, her lips tightened and moistened slightly, opening again, now sticky and luminous. He felt his manhood pulse in his pants in shock at the sight and looked away, embarrassed.

Lady Vhassar was clearly not intimidated. On the contrary, she waited for her father who had already noticed the prince. They approached him and the queen together, both bowing low. Aemond dared to look at her again. Her gaze was lowered meekly, there was no trace of her expression from a few seconds before.

She was wearing a thin, translucent dress made of a very delicate material in a shade of lilac. Her light skin went perfectly with this shade, her black hair was partly pulled back in a bun, her bright eyes seemed to glow. His gaze involuntarily moved to the line of her breasts, he could easily see the outline of her nipples.

He looked up and met her gaze, he knew she had caught him in the act. Her lips parted, her gaze expressing satisfaction with his condition. He had no idea what was going on with him or what kind of woman she was, but she certainly wasn't acting like the ladies of Westeros. Her father spoke.

"My queen, my prince. I am glad that our bloodlines remain in a strong bond, which we intend to maintain through marriage. Me, my daughter and the whole family are honored." He said softly, bowing again. He owned the largest bank in Volantis, constantly conversing with outsiders. He had a talent for diplomacy and spoke with ease. The queen nodded.

"We are grateful too, Lord Vhassar, for the tremendous support you give us. Your deeds will never be forgotten." She said warmly.

Finally the king entered the hall and everyone sat down at the tables to start the feast. His fiancée was sitting across the table, with her family. They stole a glance at each other, her gaze showing neither embarrassment nor fear. He was curious what she was thinking.

He had heard that the women of Essos were more liberated and less restrictive about how they shared their beds with men. He thought that he was pretty sure she wasn't a virgin. He felt he had no right to judge her, since he himself had slept with another woman.

Aegon bent over him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I envy you, brother. Will you fuck them two in turn, or will you introduce them and fuck them two at once? Either way, it sounds wonderful." He said, taking a piece of roast into his mouth. Aemond said nothing, taking a sip of wine, his face expressionless.

***

Lady Vhassar glanced furtively at her fiancé once in a while with a faint smile on her lips. She thought she was lucky. He was handsome but withdrawn, terrified and terrifying at the same time. It was a challenge for her, and she loved it.

She wasn't surprised to find out he had a mistress. She had heard a lot about marriages in Westeross, but certainly not that they were successful and passionate.

The other woman didn't bother her, of course as long as he kept her at a distance. She had already spotted several handsome guardsmen who she knew would provide her with wonderful entertainment if her husband turned out to despise her. For now, she has set herself the task of having fun only with her future husband.

She wondered what he had learned from this woman and whether he was a good lover. She felt wetness between her thighs at the thought. She thought she'd go fuck him in the hallway if he wanted to. She saw how he looked at her. How greedily he stared at her breasts and mouth.

She swallowed the last bite of her roast, dipping her hands in the rosewater that was standing nearby. Her brother, Vhogar, commented quietly on what he saw with displeasure.

"They pretend to be saints and bred but I heard Prince Aegon is one big pig. It's a good thing you're not marrying him, but his brother." He said, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, grimacing. "Gods, they have some diluted shit here, not wine. Don't we have our bottles somewhere?"

His sister laughed lightly at his words and placed her hand on his shoulder. They leaned towards each other.

"Hold on a little longer. You'll be home soon." She said gently. He frowned.

"Without you." He said dryly. She sighed softly at his words. They were inseparable from childhood. They were each other's confidantes, telling each other about their adventures, lovers and broken hearts.

"I know." She said softly.

After the feast, it was time for dancing. Her future husband didn't even flinch, but she thought that if he could barely talk, he couldn't dance for sure.

She didn't care, dancing with every lord who wanted it in turn. She saw their greedy glances, escaping to her mouth, breasts and hips. She knew that if they could, they would take her to their chamber for the night.

She stared at the dissatisfied, frustrated expressions of their wives in between. She thought she felt sorry for them and was not going to take their husbands away from them. She suspected that wouldn't stop them from continuing to seek relief in the arms of servants or kitchen wenches.

After another tiring dance, feeling beads of sweat running down her bare arms, she glanced toward the table. She saw her future husband sitting alone, pensive, toying with his goblet. She wondered what was going on inside his head.

She smiled to herself and moved towards the table, walking lightly up the steps, standing in front of him, taking him completely by surprise.

He swallowed loudly and tried to get up, but she shook her head, as she crossed over to sit down next to him. She sat down so that her back rested against the armrest and she was sitting half-side to him. She crossed her legs, her body glistening with sweat, her strands slightly sticking to her face.

She grabbed his goblet and took a sip of wine from it, without taking her eyes off him. He was staring at her intensely, his one hand clenched on the table. She put his cup back in its place, licking her lips.

"Forgive me, my prince. I was thirsty." She whispered and saw him inhale faster, his nostrils flaring.

He didn't say a word, his gaze expressed surprise, horror and curiosity all at once. She smiled warmly at him, got up, and walked back to the dancing couples, leaving him alone.

She knew he watched her dance. She knew he didn't know how he felt about her, wanting to be indifferent, while being jealous and frustrated at the same time.

She laughed inwardly at the thought that perhaps it would be better if that woman were his wife and she his lover. She thought it was a brilliant idea to steal a men form his mistress.

When the feast was over she went to her rooms without giving him a single glance. She asked her servant to follow him and remember where his chamber is. She wanted to be able to recreate this path later.

She changed into her thin, beautifully embroidered nightgown. It was so hot in Volantis that she slept naked. Often she even walked around the chamber like this, knowing that there were only her servants outside the door, letting her know when someone was approaching.

She felt then like a goddess among her nymphs, free and beautiful. Here everything seemed gray and gloomy, devoid of emotion. She wondered if this was what her future husband was like.

After a few hours she went on a journey through the darkness of the palace corridors. She knew his quarters were nearby. She waited patiently for the guards to pass through the corridor and walked barefooted, holding only a peach in her hand. It was her gift for him.

She quickly opened the door to his quarters and closed it behind her. She heard him jump up in his seat by the fireplace, staring at her in disbelief, his mouth parted.

"What are you doing here?" He asked softly and low, the first words he ever said to her.

She smiled at him, walking lightly towards him, unfazed by the fact that her nightgown covered practically nothing. She knew she shouldn't be there, and that if anyone heard them they'd both be in trouble. She stopped in front of him and held out her arm with peach in her hand.

"I have a gift for you. I brought them with me from my homeland." She said gently. She saw him purse his lips, all tense. He didn't know where to look, sucked in a breath.

"You should go back to your quarters." He said coldly. Silence fell between them.

She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused. She thought she'd play with him. She had no desire to win his heart by begging him to look at her kindly, giving him a sweet look full of hope and pain. She figured they'd have fun together or apart, but she certainly wasn't going to cry over him.

She lifted the peach to her mouth and bit into it. Its soft flesh yielding easily, the juice running down her lips she licked off with her tongue. She loved this taste.

She watched with satisfaction as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze fixed on her lips.

"You're embarrassing me." He said finally. She wanted to burst out laughing at that remark.

"Your lover doesn't embarrass you?" She asked lightly, taking another bite, her face calm and gentle.

He looked at her shocked. He was horrified that she knew about his little secret. He pursed his lips and swallowed hard, apparently completely wiped off the board.

"What do you want?" He finally asked quietly. She looked at him deliberately, wondering why he was so tense. She twisted a bitten peach in her hand.

"I want you to taste my present." She said, looking at him from under her long lashes. He looked at her shocked.

"If I try it, will you leave?" He asked softly, giving in.

She smiled warmly at him and nodded. He reached out to grab the fruit, but she wouldn't let him. He frowned, frustrated.

"I said I want you to taste it, not bite it." She said, biting into the fruit herself again, licking the sweet juice from her lips. When he realized what she meant he shivered, his lips parted slightly.

She approached him slowly, unhurriedly. His whole body was tense like a string, and she knew something violent was going on inside his head. She thought that he was going to hit her right away or fuck her.

She bit into the fruit again, this time deliberately sucking on the flesh for a moment, spreading its juices over her tongue and lips. She slid her hand under his hair, grabbing him gently by the nape of the neck, pulling his face to hers. He leaned back a bit, terrified, his lips slightly parted. He didn't protest.

She stood on her toes, pressing her soft lips to his. She felt him inhale hard and shiver all over. She brushed his lips, waiting patiently for what followed a few seconds later.

Helplessly, he opened his mouth and she slipped her tongue in, letting him taste the sweet fruit. The tip of his tongue licked hers, and they both moaned into each other's mouths, surprised at the intensity of the sensation.

Their tongues licked for a moment, both of them not even noticing when their hands closed around their bodies. Their caresses were drawn out, their tongues rough, sticky and wet, exchanging saliva and the delicious taste of peach each time.

She felt her nipples harden in surprise, wetness trickling down her thighs. She took his hand, clenched tightly around the material of her nightgown in hers, leading her down.

"There are plenty of similar sweet, sticky, juicy fruits in Essos, my prince." She whispered into his mouth, continuing to caress him, their tongues dancing together in a slow, lazy dance. She felt a shiver run through him at her words, and at what she was doing with his hand.

She lifted her nightgown and slipped his hand between her thighs, letting him feel how wet she was. He drew in a sharp breath as he felt it, his lip quivering helplessly. His fingers ran timidly over her sticky, hot entrance, making her moan sweetly into his mouth.

"All the fruits in Essos have this much juice?" He asked low, his voice quivering, his tongue sliding deep into her throat. She moaned loudly, surprised by his words, a shiver ran through her body. She thought with delight that her future husband could give her what she wanted.

"Yes." She whispered helplessly, her hand pressing his fingers to her womanhood, craving more intense caresses, her hips beginning to rub against him, seeking fulfillment. They both began to breathe louder, their kisses one sticky, wet mess.

"If you want, you can try another fruit I brought with me, my prince" She whispered sweetly into his mouth, and he groaned loudly. She knew it was over, that they were about to fuck on his bed.

He lifted her suddenly by her hips. She wrapped her thighs quickly around him, making him moan in her mouth again. He threw himself on his bed with her, laying on top of her.

They didn't stop kissing, licking the tips of their tongues and sucking each other's lips, his hands quickly lifting her nightgown, spreading her thighs shamelessly in front of him.

He pulled away from her, her face hot and smudged, no trace of shame or fear. She saw that he was looking at her with a dark, unpredictable look, that made her feel throbbing inside.

"Let's have a taste." He purred low, suddenly going through a change, as if he wasn't the same person. She thought that she hadn't been aroused so much in a long time.

He cupped her thighs low with his big hands, massaging them leisurely. He leaned in, the tip of his tongue running over her entrance all the way to her pearl, causing her to lean back with a loud moan. Her hand tightened automatically in his hair. She felt him smile, his tongue teasing her clit, swirling around her, then moving down again, licking her juices.

"Delicious." He whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth, gasping sweetly with delight. She felt that if he kept going like this, she would soon come.

Her thighs began to move towards his face, demanding more intense caresses. She moaned loudly as she felt him slide his tongue inside, moving it rhythmically with a wet click. She leaned on one hand, lifting slightly, making his tongue touch her where she felt the greatest pleasure. She moaned softly, looking at him tenderly, her nipples hard with desire.

"Oh gods, yes, lick me!" She sobbed, throwing her head back, her hand tightening on his sheets as she moaned loudly. A wonderful, strong, hot orgasm ran through her body. She came on his face and he, unmoved, licked everything that flowed out of her, making her tremble all over.

"Gods…" She whispered helplessly, laying on her back, panting heavily. She watched, as her future husband ran his tongue over her throbbing, hot womanhood and then up her thigh. She pursed her lips, exasperated.

"Can I taste you too, my prince?" She asked quietly, and he gave her a shocked look, his mouth parted slightly. After a moment he smirked in a way that sent shivers down her spine. He stood in front of her, undoing his pants.

"Come here." He instructed gently. She obediently got up and settled herself on her lap, kneeling at his hips, looking at him expectantly.

"Have you tasted many men?" He asked teasingly, amused, letting her pull his pants down.

She thought that when he was like that, ironic, direct, dark, she could fuck him all night. She thought that she had great lover material. She wondered what his woman would think if she saw them now.

She looked down at his manhood and licked her lips in satisfaction, seeing how big he was. She thought she would make sure he gave her a lot of pleasure in the future.

"I've never tasted a dragon before." She purred, his attention making him smile from the corner of his mouth.

His lips parted in delight as she leaned over him. She licked his entire length with her tongue, glancing at him without a trace of embarrassment. His cock throbbed impatiently, swollen and hard. His hand gently tangled in her hair.

"This is not how I imagined you." He whispered and moaned low as her hand gripped the base of his member, her tongue teasing his tip, licking his own juices. She smiled at his words, popped him into her mouth, wetting him with her saliva, and pulled him out with a loud, wet click.

"Aren't you ashamed of me anymore?" She asked sweetly, shoving his length deep into her throat. She heard him chuckle lightly at her words, his hips moving against her mouth. She sucked him unhurriedly, caressing him with her tongue, taking care of every second of his pleasure.

"No. I changed my mind." He purred low, panting loudly, his hand forcing her to speed up. His member slammed against the wall of her throat, her lips pressed tight against him, driving him crazy. His buttocks pumped his manhood hard between her lips with a wet, sticky sound.

"You have to swallow it all. You know that, right?" He hissed, his hands clasping her hair, he was answered by her purr of satisfaction. He parted his lips, panting heavily, as he felt his fullfilment approaching.

"Oh Gods, swallow it, swallow it like a good girl" He panted, cuming hard deep in her throat, his length throbbing in her mouth. She moaned loudly at his words, swallowing all of his semen patiently, waiting for the last drop to spill out of him.

"Just like that." He whispered, looking down at her, stroking her hair. "Such a good girl."

To his astonishment, he noticed that not a drop had escaped her mouth. She released him from between her mouth with a loud, wet plop, licking her lips.

"Delicious." She whispered.

They stared at each other with hazy eyes, as Aemond pulled up his trousers, tying them back. She wanted to get up and just leave for her chamber, but he closed his hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"What are you doing?" He asked surprised.

"I keep my promise." She said softly, taking her arm away, avoiding him with a light, unhurried step.

"Stay." He said suddenly. She stopped, looking at him in surprise.

"Are you sure?" She asked, trying to hide a smile of hot satisfaction, her eyes shining. He pressed his lips together, sliding under his sheets.

"Come here and go to sleep. I have to get up at dawn tomorrow."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen

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darlingdreadwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Halloween (She's So Mean)

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to walk around.

contains: haunted house with jeff, scare actor jeff, making out and it’s slightly nsfw (under the red divider!!)

warnings: name calling (slut is used), he’s dressed as a murderous clown with blood on him and a fake knife

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a.n: don’t be following or shamelessly flirt with scare-actors unless you know them personally and they’re ok with it PLEASE

“I want to just walk around,” you tell your friends. They nodded, walking deeper into the festival grounds.

Every few seconds, screams and laughter surround you – all thanks to the scare-actors scattered about. You feel a buzzing thrill under your skin, a mixture of excitement and nervousness propelling you further. You glance at your left, unaware of a man ready to leap out at you.

“Gotcha!”

You stumble back with a yelp, bumping into one of your friends. The man before you, dressed like a murderous clown, laughs maniacally. His sleek, black leather jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to expose a provocative amount of lean, scarred skin of his torso. Blood is splattered over his pale skin. His makeup enhances his almost-white skin, with dark red eyeshadow sweeping across his eyelids and extending under his eyes. The classic clown look is evident in the sharp diamond shapes that stretch from above his eyebrows to his cheeks. A black upside-down cross is drawn on his forehead, while black face-paint is made to look like his mouth is stretched out. Streaks of dried blood trail from his red lips down to his chin, completing the scary look.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in with a devilish grin – your heart hammers in your chest. You think he’s about to say something else but he only winks at you. He turns quickly to find his next victim, leaving you bewildered and breathless.

You and your friends continue to explore the festival, but your thoughts are stuck on that encounter. You wander through the festival, trying to shake off the chill that his presence left on you. But it doesn’t matter how many fun booths you pass or how many jokes your friends make, he has carved himself into your brain. You want to believe it was only because he effectively scared you.

You start to lose yourself in the atmosphere, the tension in your shoulders easing. The interaction seems to be behind you and your group has moved on to playing games. You’re standing near a brightly lit game stall, watching as your friend fails to properly throw a ball at a bottle. You laugh as another friend steps up to help – only to fail just as terribly.

“Miss me?” Someone whispers, their breath hot on your ear.

You spin toward him, coming face to face with the scare-actor from earlier. He’s so close that you can smell the leather of his suit and a faint scent of nicotine. He laughs sharply, causing you to shrink back against a wall behind you. When he pulls back his arm way too swiftly, you almost scream.

“You’re so hot!” You blurt out without thinking, closing your eyes tightly. Oh, fuck. You’re supposed to be scared. His job is to scare you, and here you were, declaring how hot you think he is.

Your eyes go wide in horror, and you seem to have genuinely caught him off guard for a moment. His taunting grin falters, and his eyes are just as wide as yours. Your face feels like hot coal when he bursts out into loud laughter. He doubles over, one of his hands pressed against his stomach. Your friends join in on his laughter, and you would have kicked him if your embarrassment hadn’t caused you to freeze.

“Oh, god, you –“ he gasps for air between laughs. “What kinda reaction – Jesus!”

“That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to – “You stammer out. You’re absofuckinglutely mortified.

“Nah, nah, you can’t take that back,” he teases as he calms down. Before you can answer, he grabs your wrist and it’s surprisingly gentle. “Since you think I’m so hot, I’m takin’ you with me. That okay?”

“Okay – “

You barely have time to look back at your friends who are now cheering for you. You’d get them back for this for sure. He’s dragging you through the maze of people, and you have to fight to keep up. He’s leading you toward the mansion, undoubtedly heading to one of the haunted experiences. Curious festivalgoers in lines watch as he skips to the entrance of one.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he drawls, nodding at the worker who steps to the side to let you two in. he looks over his shoulder to flash you a smirk, but he’s also studying your reaction. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You’re too stunned and excited to resist, following silently behind him. A part of you really seems to like how he’s treating you. It was a strange mix of actions – like he was controlling you, but also giving you a chance to refuse. Not that you would refuse.

The inside of the attraction is dark and disorienting. The lights flicker above and cast eerie shows in the already creepy hallway. Every time an animatronic or an actor jumped out, you’d walk a little closer to Jeff. At one point, he got so tired of you practically squishing yourself against his arm that he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pressed the palm of his hand against the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers, his lips lightly grazing your ear, and the warmth of his breath causes your brain to short-circuit. “Scared?”

Jeff is relentless, making jokes and flirting to break the tension. You attempt to match his energy, even if it is a bit shaky. A flurry of butterflies weighs heavily on your chest. He leads you down somewhere clearly off of the main path. He pulls back a curtain, revealing a door with a sign that reads “Employees Only.” He opens it with no issue before turning around. He stands in front of the dark corridor, the shadows framing his silhouette. He holds your wrist loosely, giving you another hint that you can stop this at any time.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asks, tilting his head. His tone then takes on a mocking lilt. “Promise I won’t bite… too hard.”

You hesitate for just a millisecond before stepping closer. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his grip on your wrist tightening. Who were you to say no?

“That’s my stupid little slut,” he purrs, walking backwards into the darkly lit hallway and pulling you with him. He looks at you and back to the door – another exit, he seems to be telling you. But you don’t move.

He closes it and the sounds behind it immediately sound muffled and distant. He stares down at you with a charged mischief that almost has your knees buckling. He holds up his prop knife, the flat side of the plastic blade lightly tapping against your cheek. He leans in, his breath hitting your face.

“Last chance to run, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s surprisingly considerate as his eyes search yours for any hint of uncertainty.

You’re too caught up in the moment to respond as your hands tangle into Jeff’s hair to pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, immediately closing the distance. You can taste the copper that lingers in his mouth – fake blood, probably – but it only adds to the intoxicating thrill of the moment.

Your back hits the cold wall, the sharp pain tingling just enough to make you crave his closeness even more. He nips at your lower lip and grips your waist tightly. As his tongue delves into your mouth, one of his knees slips between your legs. He rolls his knee lightly against your clothed groin, the fabric of your jeans stimulating you just right. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it up greedily, his slippery muscle sliding against yours.

Your hand presses flat against his stomach, the warmth mixing with the heat of your palm. Neither of you seemed to remember – or care – about the blood on his torso. It was dried by now, so, as you trailed your hand up his chest, the substance flaked off onto your hand.

You don’t know how long you had been gone, but all you knew was that you had lots of fun. You just didn’t think what you had done was obvious. That was until your friends squealed when you came back, pointing at and teasing you about the makeup staining the area around your mouth.

#creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer fanfic #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x you #creepypasta au #creepypasta x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #Spotify

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writerbugg · 4 months ago

Text

Psychic In Training ::

Chapter # 1 Tourist Trapped

Wattpad

Code, Chapter 1 (You are here)

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. - Conan Doyle

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

'Ah... Summer break, the time for parents to ship their kids off to some negligent camp to terrorize some poor 20-year-old looking for some extra cash.'

'That is... unless you're with the Pines.'

You scream as the golf cart crashes through the billboard, roughly hitting the ground before speeding up again. Glancing backward, you could see the shadow of the creature chasing you, and it seemed to be getting closer.

"Dip!" You yell, "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" The boy in front of you shouts back.

"Uhh guys," The girl next to him peaks her head out of the cart, "It's getting closer!" She shouts panicked.

"We know!" You and the boy yell at the same time.

'My name is Y/n. The sweaty boy in front of me is Dipper, and the girl beside him about to puke is Mabel.'

'Now, you probably already know why we are fleeing from some imaginable horror in a golf cart. Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and I promise, it's for a completely illogical reason.'

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan, reaching over to silence the alarm. It's the first day of summer break, but your mother insists on the 7:00 AM wake-up call.

"Y/n! The Pines are here!"

You groan louder. Your mother found a loophole after promising not to send you to camp this year. Now you're left wondering what's worse: a summer at Camp Campbell or a summer with the Pines weird uncle.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip into a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater and a pair of shorts, moving as slowly as you can.

"Come on, Y/n! We don't have all day!"

Grabbing your backpack on the way, you rush downstairs, where you're met with Dipper's less-than-enthusiastic expression and Mabel's overly enthusiastic grin.

It can't be that bad, right? No crazy, out-of-control adventures.

With a resigned sigh, you follow the Pines out of the house, bracing yourself for whatever this summer has in store.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking some kind of child labor law," you mumble as you restock the blue and white pine tree hats. Off to the side, Dipper is polishing a jar of eyeballs while Mabel stalks some random customer.

"Mabe," you call out, giving her a pointed look. "Stop creeping on that poor guy and help me with these hats." Mabel just blows a raspberry at you, her focus undeterred. You turn to Dipper with a shrug. "Well, I tried. Your turn."

Dipper sighs, rolling his eyes as he sprays the jar again. "Mabel, I get that you're in your 'Boy Crazy' phase," he says, stealing a glance at the list in the customer's hand, "but you're kind of overdoing it on the 'crazy' part."

Mabel blows another raspberry, this time at Dipper. "Come on, you two!" she exclaims, bouncing over to join you. "This is our first summer away from home!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, Mabe. I've been going to summer camp since I was five. It's not all it's cracked up to be-just a bunch of rules and chores." You gesture to the hats you're organizing. "This is just a slightly more illegal version of that."

Mabel crosses her arms, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Mock all you want, but I've got a feeling this summer's going to be amazing. In fact," she points dramatically to the door, "I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now."

The three of you turn to see Grunkle Stan walking in.

"Ha!" you snort, pointing at Mabel. "Dreamy enough for you, Mabe?" You continue laughing as Mabel cringes in disgust.

Stan strolls over, eyeing the three of you. "Alright, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Mabel and Dipper shout simultaneously, making you groan.

"Uh, also not it," Soos chimes in.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," Stan deadpans.

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that," Soos replies cheerfully, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Stan turns back to you and the twins. "Well, since one of you was slow, you're doing it." He dumps a stack of signs into your arms. "But you've got a habit of 'getting lost,' so you'll need a companion."

Scanning the room, Stan spots Wendy at the counter. "Wendy! Help Y/n with these signs!"

Without even looking up from her magazine, Wendy replies, "I would, but I... uh... can't... uh... reach them."

Stan mutters under his breath, "I'd fire all of you if I could," before turning to Dipper. "Alright then, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." He points at Dipper. "You."

"What?!" Dipper protests. "Grunkle Stan, I always feel like I'm being watched when I'm in those woods." He sneaks a glance at you, lowering his voice. "And Y/n gets weird in the forest."

You shoot Dipper a glare. "Hey! I can hear you, you know..." They ignore you.

Stan gives Dipper an unimpressed look, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, not this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'beware.'" Dipper rolls up his sleeve to show Stan.

Stan squints at it. "That says 'bewarb.'"

You snicker. "Who knew mosquitoes were bad at spelling?"

Dipper lowers his arm, embarrassed, scratching at the bites. Stan shakes his head. "Look, kid, the whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just a local legend made up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that." He nods toward a sweating, grinning customer clutching a handful of merchandise.

"And Y/n's just... a little special. Nothing weird about it." Stan shrugs. "So quit being paranoid."

You huff, handing some of the signs to Dipper. "For the record, I can still hear you."

»»————- 🪬————-««

Hanging up the signs quickly became boring. Dipper was hammering nails into the trees so that you could hang the signs, he was muttering something about Stan not believing him.

"Could you not?" You snap, "All you do is complain, it'd be nice if you'd talk about something more pleasant for once."

Dipper shot a sharp glare your way. "Like you're any better. All you do is make snide comments and dump your work on everyone else."

You gasp, feigning offense. "When have I ever?"

Dipper's expression turned flat, clearly unimpressed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who shrunk my sweater!?" Mabel wailed, holding up the now tiny garment. "I told everyone this was special cotton! It needs delicate care!"

You glance up from your magazine. "Pretty sure Soos did it," you answer before returning to your reading.

Dipper stared at you before his eyes flicked to the chore list on the wall, your name plastered next to 'Laundry'.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"That was one time." You defend yourself.

"No! It wasn't! That was one of multiple times!" Dipper said exasperated, placing down another nail and hammering it.

Clank

Both of you freeze, staring at the tree. Dipper taps the hammer lightly against the trunk again, confirming the odd sound. Lowering the hammer, he examines the tree closer, running his hand over the bark until he finds a small crack.

With a glance at you, he pries open the "tree."

A mechanical box with two switches sat within a hidden compartment. Dipper tests one of the controls, nothing. He flips the other switch, and next to you, a hatch suddenly opens in the ground.

You exchange a wary look with Dipper before cautiously peering inside the hatch. There, nestled within the earth, lay an old, thick book. Dust covered it completely, cobwebs clung to its edges, and millipedes skittered across its surface. The cover bore a gold six-fingered handprint, with the number "3" written on its palm.

You slowly reach for the book in the hatch, somewhat hesitate as a bad feeling sinks into your stomach.

A sharp shock runs through your hand as your fingers graze the surface of the book. The air around you seems to hum with a sudden energy, and a burning sensation spreads across your palm.

Something was drawing you towards the book, something ancient and powerful as if it had been waiting for you. The sensation sharpens, and a rush of images and whispers, flood your conscience.

"-/n! Y/n!!" With a sudden tug, you're pulled away from the book. Dipper, who was now in front of you, was gripping tightly onto your shoulders, a look of genuine worry on his face.

"What was that?" he asks, searching your face for answers. When you don't respond, he turns and reaches into the hatch, carefully pulling out the book.

He places it on the ground and opens it, eyes scanning the pages.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon." Dipper flips through the book, each page revealing bizarre creatures and terrifying monsters.

"What is all this?" Dipper whispers in awe. You lean over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a page that reads "TRUST NO ONE!"

"My worst fears have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before it's found. Remember, In Gravity Falls, you can't trust anyone."

You and Dipper exchange a tense look, a silent pact forming between you both.

"HALLO!!"

You yelp in surprise, falling backward.

Mabel was behind you, leaning over a rotten log. "What'cha reading, some nerdy thing?" she teased, trying to peek at what Dipper was hiding behind his back.

"Uh- uh- it's nothing!" Dipper stammers, shooting you a desperate look.

""Uh, uh, it's nothing!" What? Are you not gonna show me?" Mabel laughs.

Dipper looks at Mabel then the Journal then back at Mabel. "Let's... go somewhere more private."

Mabel raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs. She hops over the log and strides quickly toward you, extending a hand to help you up.

You offer her a grateful smile as you reach for her hand.

"What is that?!" Mabel exclaims, suddenly tightening her grip on your hand as she examines it closely. "When did you get a scar like this?"

Startled, you pull your hand back and stare at your palm, shocked to find a vertical eye seared into your skin.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I can't find anything," Dipper mutters, flipping through the pages with a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing about a mysterious vertical eye appearing on someone's palm."

The three of you have ended up in the Mystery Shack's resting room. You're seated beside Mabel, while Dipper paces back and forth, rifling through the Journal's pages.

"But still, this thing is incredible!" Dipper exclaims, holding the Journal open for Mabel to see. "Grunkle Stan thinks I'm just being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a hidden dark side."

You lean forward, a frown tugging at your lips. "Dip, this could be dangerous. That book gives me the creeps." You wave your hand in front of Dipper's face. "And look at what it did to me!"

Dipper bats your hand away, his expression annoyed.

Ding-Dong

"Who's that? More tourists?" you ask, glancing toward the door. Mabel grins at you. "Well, it's time to spill the beans." She playfully pushes over an empty can of beans. "Boop. Beans." Mabel beams, clearly pleased with her joke before continuing, "This girl's got a date! Woot woot!"

You and Dipper exchange incredulous looks. "Wait," you begin, "In the half hour we were gone, you managed to get a date who didn't run away from your... let's say, intense enthusiasm?"

Mabel nods enthusiastically. "What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible."

Dipper looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with a grin. "You know what? You go, girl."

The doorbell rings again, and Mabel jumps up, hurrying to answer it.

Dipper sighs, slipping into the seat Mabel just vacated. "I can't believe I was right," he says with a grin, flipping open the journal. "Do you mind trying to touch it again?"

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Alright, but if I get possessed, I'm blaming you." Dipper brushes off your comment and passes the journal to you.

You carefully take it from his hand, bracing yourself for anything.

...

But nothing happens. No surge of energy, no eerie whispers—the journal sits quietly in your hands, completely still.

"What'cha reading there, slick?" Grunkle Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Oh!" Dipper yelped, quickly shoving the book behind his back and snatching up the nearest magazine. "Just catching up on..." He glanced at the cover in his hand, "Gold Chains for Old Men?" He read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Stan leans over Dipper's shoulder and grins, "That's a good issue."

"Hey family~" Mabel calls out as she drags some homeless-looking guy with her, "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

"Ugh- ew-" you blurted out at the sight of the pale, disheveled boy, but quickly stopped when Mabel gave you a look, "Sorry, it was involuntary."

"Sup." The boy says.

"Hey," Dipper responded awkwardly. Stan, still focused on the TV, didn't bother to look at the boy. "How's it hanging?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How old are you?" you asked.

The boy hesitated, stumbling over his words. "Uh- um- fifteen?" he answered, uncertain.

"...You're definitely lying-"

"We met at the cemetery!! He's really deep." Mabel quickly interrupts your line of questioning.

Dipper narrows his eyes, suspicion clear in his voice. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

The 'teen' straightens up, a bit tense. "Uh... Normal... MAN!" he blurts out.

A faint warmth begins to radiate from the center of your palm, just enough to make you curl your fingers slightly. Unbeknownst to you, a soft greenish-blue glow flickers beneath your skin.

"He means 'Norman,'" Mabel chimes in, leaning closer to him.

You take another look at Norman. "Right... and is that blood on your cheek, Normalman?" you ask, pointing to the red liquid dripping down his face.

"...It's jam," he replies, a little too quickly.

"...Seriously?"

Mabel gasps, delighted. "I love jam!" She turns back to you and Dipper with a grin. "He's perfect!"

You shake your head. "Mabe, your standards... where are they?"

Norman turns to Mabel, "So, you wanna go hold hands or... whatever?" He asks, Mabel blushes shyly, "Oh, goodness!" she exclaims, casting a quick glance at you and Dipper. "Don't wait up for me!" she calls out, her voice light and excited as she hurries out the door with Norman.

As they disappear, the burning sensation in your palm begins to fade, replaced by a faint, lingering buzz. You lift your hand, studying the vertical eye with a puzzled expression.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"Of course Stan sticks me with the broom closet for a bedroom," you mutter, shuffling into the cramped space. As soon as you reach the bed, you collapse onto it with a weary sigh. Your gaze drifts to your hand, staring at the vertical eye on it.

"...What are you?"

KNOCK KNOCK

"Y/n!!" You jolt, startled by the sudden noise.

"Mabel'sdatingazombieandshe'sgoingoutonadatewithhimrightnow!!!" Dipper's frantic voice spills through the door in one breathless rush.

You quickly get to your feet and swing the door open. "Woah, woah, slow down, Dip-" You grab his shoulders, worry knotting in your chest. "Explain that again, but slower."

Dipper takes a couple of shaky breaths, but his panic is still written all over his face. "Mabel's dating a zombie, and she's going on a date with him right now!" Without waiting for a response, Dipper turns and dashes off, pulling you along with him.

"Huh!? Wait- how do you know?" you manage to ask as you stumble after him.

"Earlier today, I was following him to gather evidence," Dipper confesses. "When I reviewed the footage, I saw him lose his hand and then reattach it!"

"I knew something was off about that weirdo..." You mutter, following Dipper out of the Mystery Shack. Stan was standing in front of a crowd, showcasing some kind of rock face, which made it virtually impossible to get his attention.

Scanning the area for an alternative, your eyes land on Wendy, casually sitting in a golf cart. "Dip! Look!" you exclaim, pointing toward her. Dipper's eyes widen before he grins at you. "Nice catch, Y/N!"

Rushing over, you quickly approach Wendy, "Wen, Just the gal I need, you don't mind if we steal that cart and possibly wreck it right?"

Wendy looks at you, then at Dipper, then back to you, and shrugs with a lazy grin, tossing you the keys. "Just try not to mow anyone down."

With a smirk, you hand the keys to Dipper. "Let's go save your sister."

You and Dipper jump into the cart, ready to back out of the lot when Soos suddenly appears, blocking your path.

"Dude, it's me, Soos," he says with a grin, handing Dipper a shovel. "This is for the zombies." He then turns to you, passing you a bat. "And this is just in case you come across a piñata."

"Uh... Thanks?"

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I am seriously regretting giving you those keys" You shout as Dipper drives through the forest like a madman.

"Don't worry Mabel" Dipper shouts loudly, "We'll save you from that zombie!!" He accelerates faster.

"Help!" A shout resonated from off in the distance. You and Dipper gasp,

"Mabel!"

"Mabe!"

Dipper makes a sharp turn off the road, driving through the forest trying to follow the sound of Mabel's voice.

Soon, you both approach some kind of cave, and inside you can see Mabel surrounded by... gnomes?

Dipper slows down, parking once he's in the cave. "What the..." He mutters, "What the heck is going on here!?" he shouts, both confused and extremely underwhelmed.

A gnome runs up to you and hisses, prompting you to kick it.

"Dipper! N/n! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!" Mabel shouts as she bats away the gnomes crowding her, "And they're total jerks!" One particularly persistent gnome latches onto her hair, making Mable gasp in pain, "Hair- hair- hair-!"

Dipper stares at the chaos, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gnomes... huh, I was way off."

A faint warmth begins to emanate from your palm, similar to before. Glancing down, you gasp seeing the vertical eye glowing with a soft greenish-blue light.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" Dipper yelled at the brown-haired gnome.

The brown haired gnome spins around, offering Dipper a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, hey there," he stammers with a nervous chuckle. "This is just a big misunderstanding, really. Your sister's perfectly safe. She's just, you know, marrying all thousand of us to become our gnome queen for eternity!" He turns back to Mabel with a smirk. "Right, sweetheart?"

Mabel, now tied down, glares daggers at the gnomes. "You guys are butt-faces!" she yelled before one of them hastily muffled her.

You step up beside Dipper, and kneel down to the gnome's height, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading in your palm. "Listen here, Normal-man," you mock, voice steady, "if you and your creepy little friends don't let Mabel go, I'm going to recreate that gnome scene from the 2015 Goosebumps movie." You give your bat a subtle lift, just enough to make your point clear.

The gnome glares at you. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the-"

You nudge him off the rock with your bat.

Dipper wastes no time, stepping forward to cut the string holding Mabel down with his shovel. Mabel flashes him a grateful smile before kicking the gnomes away and rushing toward the golf cart.

Dipper grabs your hand, pulling you along. For a brief moment, he hesitates, noticing the glow in your palm. You can almost hear the questions forming in his mind, but the urgency of the situation forces him to push them aside.

Once in the cart, Dipper quickly starts it up and speeds away. Faintly, you hear Jeff yelling behind you.

As the three of you exit the cave, Dipper eases up on the speed, his tension fading.

"Hurry, before they come after us!" Mabel urges, prompting Dipper to chuckle. "I wouldn't worry. Did you see their legs? Those suckers are tiny!"

You frown. "I'm with Mabe on this one, Dip. That was way too easy."

Dipper rolls his eyes. "And you called me paranoid-"

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"...I blame Dip. He jinxed us."

A giant gnome monster, made up of smaller gnomes, looms behind the golf cart, chasing you.

"Move, move!" Mabel shouts at Dipper. He stumbles but quickly picks up speed. Glancing back, you see the creature's shadow growing larger.

"Dip!" you yell. "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" Dipper shouts back.

"Uhh, guys," Mabel says, peeking her head out of the cart. "It's getting closer!" Her voice is panicked.

"We know!" you and Dipper yell in unison.

The monster swings its massive arms, hurling small gnomes through the air toward your cart. Two gnomes land beside you, and out of reflex, you smack the one on your left, knocking it out cold.

The gnome on your right hisses, ready to pounce, but you swiftly grab the unconscious gnome and toss it at the other, sending both tumbling out of the cart.

Another gnome crashes onto the hood and springs at Dipper, latching onto his face with a tight grip.

You lunge forward, reaching over the seat to help the boy. The moment your hand touches the gnome, a greenish-blue light flares from your palm. The gnome yelps in pain, releasing Dipper and snatching his hat away in the process.

Mabel gasps, turning to you with a bright smile. "How'd you do that?" she asks. You stare at your hand, bewildered. "I... I don't know..."

Before either Mabel or Dipper can ask more, a tree crashes down in front of the cart. "Watch out!" you shout as Dipper swerves to avoid it. He manages to steer clear, but the sharp turn tips the cart over, sending all of you tumbling.

Groaning, you crawl out of the wrecked vehicle. "Called... it..." you mumble, slowly getting to your feet.

The ground trembles as the giant gnome monster approaches, each of its thundering steps echoing through the forest.

"Stay back, man!" Dipper shouts, grabbing a shovel and hurling it at the monster. The creature swats it away effortlessly.

The twins cling to each other in terror. You step in front of them, instinctively trying to shield them from the looming threat.

With every step the monster takes, you and the twins retreat, until you're backed against a wall.

"It's the end of the line, kids!" Jeff yells from atop the monster. "Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!"

"Shoot..." you mutter, glancing at Mabel. "There's gotta be a way out of this..."

Mabel's gaze locks onto the monster as she carefully considers her next move. Slowly, she steps past you and Dipper, her expression firm. "I gotta do it," she says, her voice steady.

"Mabel, don't!" Dipper grabs her arm, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you crazy!?"

She doesn't waver. "Trust me," she whispers.

Dipper hesitates, about to protest, but you place a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Dip," you murmur. "Trust her, just this once."

After a tense moment, Dipper sighs in frustration, then steps back.

Mabel offers you a grateful smile before turning to face the monster. "All right, Jeff. I'll marry you."

"Hot dog!" Jeff cheers, scrambling down the monster's side. "Help me down there, Jason! Thanks, Andy! Left foot, there we go... watch those fingers, Mike."

Jeff approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring with a smug grin. "Ehh? Ehh?" he says, gesturing to the jewels. Mabel kneels down, letting him slip the ring onto her finger.

"Bada-bing, bada-bam!" Jeff dances with glee. "Now that's how you get a wife! Let's head back to the forest, honey!"

Mabel admires the ring. "You may now kiss the bride," she declares.

Jeff smirks, leaning in for the kiss. "Well, don't mind if I do."

As Jeff moves closer, Mabel leans back and flicks on the leaf blower behind her, aiming it straight at him. The suction pulls him in with a whoosh.

"That's for lying to me!" Mabel shouts, cranking up the power. "And this is for breaking my heart!"

Jeff flails helplessly, yelping in pain.

You and Dipper approach, both thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking. Mabel glances over her shoulder, a sly smile forming on her lips. "And this... is for messing with my brother and my best friend."

She lifts the leaf blower and points it at the monster. "Want to do the honors, Dipper?"

Dipper grins widely. "On three."

"One, two, three!"

They launch Jeff out of the leaf blower, sending him crashing into the giant monster, scattering it in pieces.

With their leader gone, the gnomes scramble in confusion. You grab a rake leaning against the Shack and start herding the gnomes back into the forest.

Once you were sure they were all gone, you turned back and started heading in towards the Shack, Mabel had gone inside after talking with Dipper, leaving just the two of you.

"Oh- Um, Y/n!" " Dipper called out just before you reached the door, making you turn to face him. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to, uh, clear the air?"

He hesitated, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. "Since we've been stuck here, it kinda felt like we were at odds," he admitted. "But with everything that's happened - the journal and all - I figured we should..." His voice trailed off.

"But especially after today," his tone grew firmer, "you helped me when you didn't have to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been able to get to Mabel..."

You smiled. "I get it, Dip, no need to get all mushy." He flushed, groaning a little in embarrassment. "But, honestly, you proved me wrong. You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Dipper stared at you for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, Y/n. That... means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you just as Mabel popped back outside. "Come on, guys! Grunkle Stan has a present for us!"

»»————- 🪬————-««

You admire your new ring, a simple silver band etched with intricate Celtic designs. Inside, the name 𝕌ℝ𝕎𝕍𝕆ℝℍ is engraved, the letters catching the light as you turn it between your fingers.

A knock on the door pulls your attention from the ring. Shuffling around the tight space, you make it to the door and carefully open it.

"Dipper?" you ask, seeing the boy.

He nods, clutching the journal under one arm, a pen in his other hand. "Yeah, I wanted to talk about your... strange mark." You step aside, allowing him to enter, and the two of you settle on the bed.

"This started when you touched the journal?" Dipper asks, glancing at your hand. "Can you feel anything from the mark?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, there's this constant faint buzzing sensation, and sometimes it gets really warm." Dipper jots something down in the journal, his brow furrowed.

"And do you know what triggers the warmth?"

You pause, thinking back. "It happened when Normalman first appeared - my palm started aching. And then again when we were near the gnomes."

Dipper murmurs to himself, deep in thought. "But why now? Was it the journal that set it off? Could you be some kind of psychic?" He clicks his pen repeatedly, lost in thought.

"Maybe... you have a knack for sensing the supernatural," he suggests, his voice trailing off.

You glance out the window, noticing the sun had long set, "Let's discuss this more tomorrow ok?" You suggest, "It's been a long day Dip, you should get some sleep."

Dipper frowns, trying to protest. "But-"

Before he can finish, you start nudging him toward the door. "Nope, not until I get my beauty rest," you say with a playful grin.

Despite his reluctance, you manage to push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

"He worries too much," you mutter with a smile. With a yawn and a stretch, you make your way to your bed, sinking into the comforting embrace of the covers. As your eyes grow heavy, you're unaware of the soft glow beginning to emanate from your palm.

. . .

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in an empty field. The sky is a strange, burnt-orange hue, and to your surprise, you spot not one, but two suns hanging low on the horizon.

"Where... where am I?" you murmur, spinning around to take in your surroundings. Far off in the distance, you notice a figure, their entire body obscured by layers of clothing.

With nothing else to guide you, you approach the figure cautiously. "Hello?" you call out, the sound of your voice echoing slightly in the eerie stillness.

The figure jolts, turning abruptly to face you. A scarf and goggles hide their expression, but their posture is tense. "You!" he shouts, his voice sharp. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

You hesitate, glancing around once more before offering a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I just went to bed and woke up here."

He studies you closely, his gaze unnerving. After a moment, he reaches out toward you, his hand passing through your form. You blink in surprise.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself, stepping back to examine you more. "Somehow, through your dreams, you've crossed into this place."

A strange sensation begins to ripple through you, like a tug from deep within. The man's eyes widen in alarm. "You're waking up," he whispers, almost in awe.

You glance down at yourself, watching in disbelief as your body starts to fade, the colors draining like watercolors bleeding into the paper.

"Wait!" the man calls out, suddenly frantic. "There's so much more I need to-"

But before he can finish, everything blurs, and the dream collapses in on itself.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, the soft light of morning filtering through your window. The room is still, the quiet only broken by your racing heartbeat. You lift your hand, the glow slowly fading once more.

You exhale deeply, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, wondering what it all could mean.

A/N: Wooo Gravity fall's fandom is making a comeback!! This is an old - old rewrite of a fanfic I made on google docs as a kid. Now that I can write, I figured why not revise the old thing?

#dipper x reader #gravity falls dipper #dipper pines #mabel pines #gravity falls #stanford pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gideon gleeful #pacific northwest #wendy testaburger #gravity falls soos #waddles the pig

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thepastdied · 2 years ago

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Do You Feel It? p.1

eddie munson x reader

Part 2 <-

Warnings: blood, violence, knives, sexy stuff

In short, Eddie is obsessed with you and breaks into your house. He's not very nice.

It's a stormy night and you're home alone.

You stand in front of a glass sliding door that leads outside to your back porch. It's summer, yet you shiver as your eyes remain locked on Eddie's. Your legs are barely able to keep you up as you shift your weight from one foot to the other - your mind racing at an alarming speed. Both of your hands are gripping the handle of a baseball bat that is pointed to the man who stands directly in front of you behind the glass. It was the closest thing to a weapon within arms reach, and you were so terrified that anything would do.

You hiccuped as a sob spilled from your lips which were tainted red with his blood. The air felt cold on your skin, the new tears keeping your cheeks wet. Your lips quivered as you croaked out pleas.

Eddie harshly bangs his fist on the glass, thick rings scratching against the surface, demanding for you to let him in. He too has a weapon of his own; a broken beer bottle that he had fixed himself. Your eyes can't help but flick over to it, fully aware of what more damage it could do to you.

"I won't hurt you, I swear." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, sticking his tongue out to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth. He smiled sickeningly, though if you didn't know any better it would seem almost sweet.

In the course of the past 30 minutes..

You had become a complete mess.

Your top stretched out and hanging loosly on your skin (and in some areas torn), hair pulled out from your braid it was previously in, and a mixture of yours, and his, blood in various places on your skin.

Previously

He had broken into your house while you slept, scaring the life out of you as you heard toiletries fall from the bathroom. It could have been your cat, you quickly thought, but just as fast realized it's not possible because he was currently laying right beside you and just as curious about the noise as you were. You glanced at the clock. It was 2:17am.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard a more dense thump and a mumbled "Shit-", positive that it was someone coming into your home. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your body broke out in goosebumps. Your head felt light, vision not fully focused, and your breathing stilled. You could hear your blood swooshing in your ears.

There is always a steak knife hidden between your mattress and box spring- just something you put there to feel safer after watching a horror movie with your friends as a young teen. You slid off your mattress, entire body buzzing with fear as you crouch down and feel for the knife. Tears well up in your eyes as you take a deep breath. Your bedroom door is wide open, and you certainly can't run to your parents' to get to the phone.

Just as you were going to pick up your cat and hide under the bed, you heard a sharp tap on the wall directly next to your doorway. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth with a shaking hand and slid behind your door, sinking down to your knees and hugging them to your chest. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage so hard that you are sure the intruder could hear it.

You peered through the crack of the door hinge. There was no one, which scared you even more. There was a tap again, followed by a loud scrape.

Right on the door.

"Hey..." The man whispered, his face coming into view where you peered out.

You choked out a loud gasp and fell backwards, the knife you were holding scraping your palm as your back hit the floor.

"Oh, shit- I didn't mean to scare you." He shook his head as he lighly laughed and placed a hand on his cheek, eyes wide in mock concern at your reaction. It quickly faded into an emotionless stare- tongue in cheek, hand roughly falling to his side (as if you're wasting his time) and his other tightening around a broken beer bottle.

He reeked of beer.

You immediately whipped around to run to the hallway though he was faster at roughly grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back. He had no mask on, clearly not trying to hide his identity.

And you knew exactly who he was: Eddie Munson, the silly boy from History.

He grunted and mumbled profanities as he wrestled you to the floor.

"Jesus! Calm down, will you?" He gritted his teeth as his grip on your forearms tightened.

You stilled and looked into his eyes, waiting for any sort of explanation as to why he broke into your home and attacked you.

Eddie sighed and gave you a lazy smile.

"Wow.. you're even more beautiful up close." His tongue quickly wets his bottom lip.

He leaned down, his fluffy curls draping around his head and brushing against your cheeks. His eyes darked, narrowing as you flinched your head away from him. His breath fanned across your face as he leaned in.

"Do you feel it too? That spark when we first spoke.. I complimented you in that cute little sun dress, and you blushed. I got shivers when you looked into my eyes, did you?" Eddie's pupils were blown wide as his eyes danced across your face, deeply inhaling through his nose.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your mind was blank. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt tears running down your cheeks and to your neck. Of course you remember the first time you met. The air had been sucked out of your lungs in that moment; he was so handsome and pretty that you were paralyzed. You've talked several times after that during your history class.

"Do. you. remember?" He cleared his throat to get your attention and tightened his grip.

"Y-yes. Yes, I remember." Your voice cracked.

He hummed, a sign you supposed meant he was satisfied with the answer.

"Ya know, I've never felt that before." A hand released one of your arms and moved to your cheek, a soft thumb wiping away a tear.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you today. After you bent down to pick up my Hellfire notebook I dropped. Shit- I got so hard. Your tits were about to fall out of your top." He chuckled, eyes crinkling in the cute way they do, and shamelessly moved his eyes to your chest.

"I guess you could say it's made me a teensy bit crazy. Just thinking about what you'd look like under me.." Eddie's hand splayed across your throat, thumb smoothing over your skin.

"I'm just sayin', I'm not into that rape shit. Wouldn't want to waste my vi.. whatever. I won't do anything until you want me to. I'll wait." He smirked as if he were confident he would be able to do so.

Why did he have to pursue you this way? He could have asked you out like a normal person. He was fucking insane to think that you'd give yourself to him after he broke into your home and tackled you to the floor.

"Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?" You spat at him, some fear draining from your blood and quickly being replaced with anger.

"You broke into my house, Eddie!" You started to flail your legs and, to no avail, tried to writhe out from underneath him.

He scoffed and clenched his teeth.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch, y/n!? Can't even give me a chance, huh? Is it because I'm a freak?" His eyes were wide as he yelled in your face, face becoming red as he got more pissed.

You flinched away and squeezed your eyes shut, violently shaking your head. There is something wrong with him. He isn't making any sense.

"I heard you talking to Robin. Your parents won't be home all weekend, so we have plenty of time, sweetheart." Fuck. You mentally slapped yourself for even talking about that in public, it's a death wish if the wrong person is listening in. What he doesn't know is Robin will be over in the early afternoon.

His head dipped into your neck where he planted a sloppy kiss before trailing them up to ghost over your lips.

Panic spread throughout your body and you flung your head forward, your head smashing his mouth. He instantly let go of your other hand and falls onto his back, wiping the pool of blood from his lips. His eyes narrowed as you scurried away from him, nostrils flaring while he lunged forward to grab your ankle.

Fortunately, you were faster. And you ran as fast as you could down the stairs and toward your front door, Eddie hot on your heels. You barely managed to grab the door handle before he grabbed you by your hair, a shriek loudly echoing through your house.

"So you're just going to play hard to get then. That's fine. I like the chase. It's soo exciting." His fingers were tightly woven in your hair, back pressed firmly against his torso as he held your head against his shoulder.

"You planned this, didn't you? You got some sick, possessive crush on me and decided I was your target." You whispered. There is no getting out of this, and you have come to that hard realization. You feel hopeless.

"Bingo, pretty girl. I wouldn't call you a target though, hun, you're more special than that. I don't plan on hurting you. Just some fun, yeah?" He untangled his fingers from your hair and wrapped both arms around your waist, pinning your arms against your body.

His face settled on your shoulder and he gently swayed you back and forth, humming contently as if you're some happy couple slow dancing at prom. If only that were true. A loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch while Eddie hushes you.

You felt a dull ache in your leg soon followed by a sharp pain. You hiss as you try to take your balance off of it. Eddie's arms hold you more securely as he moved his head to look down. There was a long gash along the outside of your thigh where heavy blood was spilling from. You sharply inhaled and began to cry as the adrenaline wore off, the pain finally settling in.

"S-shit! When did that.. I- I didn't-". Eddie gulped as you went limp in his hold and slid to the floor.

You felt weak and couldn't run no matter how much you wanted to. You must have scraped against his beer bottle in the process of getting away from him. Your back was now against your front door as Eddie ripped the sleeve off his red plaid overshirt and began to tie it around your thigh.

You stared at him blankly. You wanted to kill him. For talking to you that day. For having a crush on him. For thinking that you'd date some day. For letting him deceive you. There was panic in his eyes as he examined the rest of your body. He mumbled apologies as he secured the knot.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you.. I didn't know that happened-" He started.

"Get the fuck away from me." You hissed at him and kicked him harshly with your unwounded leg. Your voice was low, but strong. "If you leave now, I'll never speak of this to anyone."

You couldn't even cry anymore. You were just exhausted and in shock that you were even in this situation.

He winced as your foot collided with his hip. Those big dark eyes snapped to yours and in less than a second the concern and panic was gone. The bastard smirked.

"Thanks for pulling me down from that cloud, almost got all soft." He sighed loudly as he stood up, pushing himself up by slapping his hands over his knees. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned. You glanced at his exposed skin and quickly looked away. Eddie tipped his head to the side and stared into space in deep thought. There was an awkward silence for a moment before he snapped causing you to jump and hold your chest.

"Hah! In my van, fuck, I forgot the weed in my van. Be right back, honey." He walked over to your console table and grabbed the keys. He turned his head toward you as he twirled the keys around his finger and pocketed them.

You waited for him to walk out the back before turning the lock on the door behind you and moving quickly to the dining room. He left the glass sliding door open, his truck just at the bottom of the porch. Just as you appeared he was shutting his van door and staring back at you. You slammed the glass door shut so fast that you thought it would break, and he casually walked up to the other side just as you locked it. The rain was loud and coming down hard. He seemed unbothered. You quickly grabbed the baseball bat that sat next to door frame. It's better than nothing.

Eddie shook his head at you and his shoulders shook as he laughed in a way that said 'dumb bitch'. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys.

"Please.. no." You held onto the lock latch for extra security. You began to sob, and you're not sure why now. Maybe it's because you have a sliver of hope now since he was no longer in the house.

His brows furrowed as he examined the keys, rain splattering around him. You saw his adams apple bob as he gulped and looked between you and the keys a few times.

"Jesus Christ! FUCK!" He snapped into a fit, punching the glass hard before grabbing the handle and roughly pulling at it over and over. The keys on the table were car keys, which you had already known. The smile you gave him made him still his deperate attempt to open the door and roll his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side.

Present

You were shaking as you tried to think of what to do. The phone, there's only two: one in your parents' room, one in the living room. But what if you let Eddie out of your sight? He could run anywhere.

You were pulled out of your head due to the sound of him running down the porch steps. You moved forward and pressed your head to the glass in panic as you watched him grab a large rock from the garden. No... no no no no.

The hard thump of the rock being dropped on the wooden floor of the porch could be felt where you were standing. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, blood still profusely coming out, and pointed to the rock with the broken bottle he still held.

"That-" His head was turned fully toward you, only a couple feet away and separated just by the glass.

"- is going through this fucking door if you don't be a good girl and open it for me." He lightly tapped the glass in front of your face with the bottle. So lightly that you could barely hear it, that made it more creepy- the gentleness.

It was quiet for second until his voice boomed against the door.

"Did you hear me?!" He shook his wet hair back and forth, curls sticking to his face.

You remained silent, fully aware that it only pissed him off more. You couldn't speak anyway, your throat was hoarse and sore from crying.

Eddie spit at the glass directly in front of you, a huge splatter of blood covering your view of his face. He leaned forward and his laugh vibrated against the glass as he licked it, smearing the blood around. You cringed as you watched his tongue glide over the crimson liquid and glass, suddenly feeling heat at your core when he moaned.

You swallowed thickly, refusing to acknowledge the burning in your body. The ache in your leg wasn't worth your attention anymore.

You were pulled from your daze as he lifted his arm, pointer finger moving over his blood canvas and drawing a simple heart. He gave you a tongue-in-cheek seductive grin.

"For you, baby." He tapped next to the simple drawing.

Your heart skipped a beat as he stepped to the side, blood painting no longer obscuring your view, and wiped his mouth with his arm. The bleeding seemed to slow down. Not that you cared.

His breath was hot on the glass as he breathed on it, puffs of fog forming while his forehead pressed against the warm surface as his big, pleading, pretty brown eyes looked at you. A lovesick puppy.

You looked him over. The rain matted down his usually crazy hair making his curls more defined. The remaining blood on his mouth was mixing with the heavy rain and dripping down his chin, disappearing under the collar of his black Megadeth shirt. He had a bruise on his right eyebrow, which was probably from his fall in the bathroom. His big eyes were blinking at you, suddenly patient compared to just moments ago. He involuntarily shivered as a gust of wind hit him, though he seemed to not even notice.

This whole situation is fucked up.

You put your face closer and continued to examine him as if he were a zoo animal. His brows twitched in confusion, though he remained still so as not to scare you away. His sardonic grin was gone, and you hoped it wouldn't come back. You didn't trust him, still. But maybe if you did as he asked, this would just blow over. Then again, he is being a sadistic fuck. But being separated by the glass made you feel more safe.. making you realize how much it turns you on.

A war was waging in your head.

You hiccuped as your crying slowed, using the collar of your oversized night shirt to wipe your tears. You took a deep breath and puffed your cheeks out as you exhaled. You probably looked gross. Not that you cared what he thought.

You nibbled on your bottom lip and were unable to meet his eyes. He was so close that you can see his light freckles, eyelashes, the perfect curve of his nose and that jawline- God, that soft jawline. You moved away from the door quickly and walked to the kitchen to grab a butchers knife. Eddie tensed and moved along the door so he could keep his eyes on you. He relaxed, a bit, when you approached him again. You sniffled and held up the knife, the bat laying on the dining table just behind you.

"You're going to trash that bottle- and anything else that would be considered a weapon." You stood firmly as you tilted your head up to look him dead in the eyes.

His mouth was hanging slightly open, some rain water dripping from his bottom lip. You watched them fall, and he noticed. Lightning flashes. His lips turn up.

Without even looking, eyes locked onto yours, he blindly whipped the bottle into the wooded area off your porch. He put both hands up, fingers spread wide and wiggling, eyes half lidded while the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Pockets." You point to his hip, and he quickly turns his pockets inside out before stuffing them back in.

"Let's start over, sweetheart." His chest puffed out as he ran his fingers through his hair and fixed his t-shirt that had been untucked from his jeans, fingers then clasping behind his back while he rocked back and forth in an 'I'm waiting' motion. His shirt was stuck to his skin, wet and heavy, and you could see his broad chest. Sweetheart.. you liked that. When your eyes met his, he suppressed a laugh.

You blushed so hard that your tears probably evaporated from the heat. He caught you gawking.

You gave him a once over and looked down at yourself. You were in a huge oversized shirt that went mid thigh, nighttime bra, and lacy underwear. You considered going to change, but Eddie knocks on the glass, decently, and startles you.

"Sweetheart...?" His palms were on the window now, one moving to draw smaller hearts around the larger one he doodled on his blood painting. "Throbbing for you... and I don't just mean my heart." His head falls back as he laughs at himself.

Wow, very funny. You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to have no reaction as you were reminded of why this is so fucked up. You slammed the knife onto the table and turned your back to him, ignoring his pissy groaning. You closed your eyes and blocked him out to give yourself a moment to think. You can't make sense of any of this.

You attempted to run your fingers through your hair but winced as it got caught in knots. Thanks, Eddie. You pulled out the hairtie and pulled it back into a messy bun, hair no longer crazy around your head. A loud clap of thunder makes you spin around.

You turned toward him to find his head bowed down, hands still splayed across the glass near his head. He sees your feet appear and glances up, eyes so lustful it makes you shiver.

"Lace? I totally expected that from you.." Eddie slides down to his knees, wet hands squeaking against the glass. "Fuck.." He shamelessly bows his head to peak under your shirt. You kick the door, which gains no reaction from him, and step back. You should feel gross, but you don't. Maybe you put your hair up on purpose, knowing your shirt would ride up. He looked tortured. Not that you cared.

You smirk and nervously bite your lip as you grab the ends of your shirt and slide it up, stopping just before where your panties are visible. He perks up and presses into the glass, mumbling pathetic pleas as he stands up and grabs the door handle. His teeth grit as you contain a laugh, your hand covering your mouth. You stand in front of him, your hand on the latch. You feel yourself throbbing. You're sick and twisted.

Moving to your toes, your lips almost touch the glass, his just on the other side.

"Want me to open it?" You mouth.

The rain is suddenly so loud, the wind howling, and another flash of lighting.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. "If you don't, I will." His head motions toward the large rock still sitting near him.

You pretend to be unbothered by that as you turn and pick up the knife before slowly unlatching the door. His eyes are wide in shock and he doesn't move as you slide it open and stand before him. You are both silent.

You raise the knife to his chest, hand slightly shaking now that there is nothing preventing him from launching at you.

"Be..have.." You try to confidently look into his eyes. "I mean it. Behave. Or I'll fucking cut you." You wiggle the knife.

He wordlessly walks you back into the dining room, his arm sliding the door shut.

"I'll behave if you behave." He jests as he makes his way toward the staircase, to your room.

"H-hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?!" You attempt to catch up to him, but a pain shoots through your leg again. You'd forgotten about your wound, too busy being turned on.

You slowly wobble over to the stairs and hop up, careful not to cut yourself on the knife you currently had, and lay at the top of the carpeted stairs to rest your pounding heart.

The floor creaked as Eddie exited your room with a towel around his shoulders. You quirked up an eyebrow and shimmied away from him, hand coming up and pointing the knife in his direction.

"Back the fuck up, Munson." You hiss at him.

He scoffs and ignores your threat completely as his eyes scrape your exposed thighs, a cold hand resting on your ankle and moving up your leg.

You breathe in and feel tingles spread along your skin. Your eyes watch him before kicking him in the shoulder when his fingers graze your inner thigh. He swears and holds his shoulder for a second before leaning forward and running his lips along your shin.

Persistent. Very persistent.

You liked it.

You want him to keep going. But this is so, so wrong. Robin will be here in the late morning, you just have to hold off until then.

You were about to smack the back of Eddie's head until he placed a messy, loud open mouthed kiss just above your knee- moaning as he lightly bit down on the flesh and licked over it. The same way he did to the glass.

The knife fell from your hand and your fingers balled up into fists. A moan bubbled in your throat and your toes curled as his hair tickled your thigh while his kisses moved upward.

Eddie stilled and looked up at you.

"Fuck, baby. Now we're talking."

Part 2

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddiemunson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #sadistic!eddie munson #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #stranger things smut #dark!eddie munson #dark!eddie munson x reader #joe quinn #joseph quinn

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ktamina · 25 days ago

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SID for Metal Hammer, 1999

¡¡¡FULL interview here!!!

SID WILSON

Age: 22.

Marital status: I have a girlfriend.

Nickname?: Filth, or the epitome of...

Born and bred?: Born in Des Moines although my whole family is from England.

Instrument played?: Turntables.

Band previous to Slipknot?: I have a DJ crew called Soundproof Coalition, who are based out of Des Moines.

First record bought?: The first one I owned was the Miami Vice soundtrack which my parents bought for me.

First band seen live?: I was really young and my parents took me to see Sheena Easton.

Describe yourself in three words: Organic brain syndrome.

What does your mask represent?: To me it's like I'm killing myself on stage. I am constantly at war as the gas mask reminds people at war, so it's like I am constantly dying up there.

Was the visual image your idea?: Yeah, it kinda fell in my lap. I got into the band and was looking for a mask and the gas mask kinda found me. Since then I have been pretty interested in them and If I ever see one I buy it. Right now I have seven or eight of them.

Special Ingredient you bring to the band?: Youth, as I am the youngest member of the band which keeps it fresh.

What is your greatest fear?: Dying young. It is something I think about, as you can die from all kinds of things- I could break my neck at a show, catch a disease or the government could assassinate me.

What is your idea of hell?: I don't believe in it. If there is a hell, planet earth is it.

First job: Working at raves.

Have you ever experimented with auto eroticism?: Yeah, I guess I have. I've wore choke collars, as in the rave scene there have been a lot of experiences which have been pretty crazy.

Tell me your favorite sexual fantasy introducing Salvador Dalí (the late great surrealist painter), an orange, and a bicycle?: I would ride the bicycle for three hours to be completely exhausted, then me and my girlfriend would enter the painting with the melted clocks in it (The Persistence of Memory) and then at the point of orgasm melt like the clocks and eat the oranges for a reward.

Do you enjoy a good wank?: Yeah, every day. When we went on The Howard Stern Show I wanted in show him my cock and I was trying to keep it a decent hanging size, so I was jerking off, and by the time we were on it only lasted a minute so I didn't even get the chance to show it. I think he was actually quite scared of it.

Do you often wank in public?: It depends. When I go into my personality of number 0 the number takes over and I never know what he is going to do, but myself, not really.

What would be the concept for a Slipknot porno movie?: I probably wouldn't do much talking as when I am in my alter ego of 0 I don't talk much. There would be a lot of drooling, slobbering and grunting. There would be no need for dialect, just get down to it.

Hobbies outside the band?: I like to snowboard and sculpt with clay. I am also into cooking. My mom has been teaching me since I was three. My speciality is french crepes.

Fave horror movie?: Evil Dead 2 and Army Of Darkness.

Fave author?: Edgar Allen Poe is the only literature have ever finished reading.

Band you'd like to tour with?: It wouldn't go in with the genre of Skipknot, but me personally, it would be The Beastie Boys. At the point when I got into DJing, break dancing and hip hop The Beastie Boys were a big part of that. I have always listened to them.

Who do you think is the most heavy metal band of all time?: Slipknot.

Worst way to die?: Without my family. By myself.

If your house was burning down. What is the one thing you would run in and save?: If all my family was out, I would have to go and get the hair wrap my girlfriend gave me before we started dating. It is made out of her hair.

If you were the president of the USA for a day and could achieve one thing only. What would it be?: I would make it a free country and expose the government for what it is.

What is your dog called?: Mary Jane Wilson. She's part whippet and part dingo.

if you read all this follow me ¡HERE! I post media of Sid every 4 hours ♡

#I HARDLY RECOMMEND YALL TO READ THIS FULLY!!!#nu metal #slipknot #sid wilson #dj starscream #joey jordison #paul gray #chris fehn #jim root #craig jones #shawn clown crahan #shawn crahan #mick thomson #corey taylor #ktamina

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shapelytimber · 1 year ago

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A Taste of Faith

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok so the concept for this piece was : historical gay nuns, and 70s lesbian vampire movies meets tes (don't ask me why- I just had a vision at 3 am)

Because I think Serana should have been meaner<3 I love women's wrongs and when vampires do the suck <3

Btw of you want to see more gay Serana art, go check out @gay-of-waterdeep, their art is wonderful, and I can't say this was not a bit inspired by what they do :))

Process (and me rambling about some of my favorite 70s lesbian vampire movies (because I have a problem)) below vvv

Additional details about this drawing ! 1) I used the same Mara design than the one from my tarot deck :)) and 2) the other woman is one of the priestess in the temple in Riften lglggigkglgl her name is *check wiki* Dinya Balu

And now......... Some movies I enjoy because my house my rules, you came this far so why not hear about niche european movies :))))))

Disclaimer for a majority of the films in this genre : the male gaze is very fucking obvious in these movies... they were made by men for men, and the message is often "lesbianism is a dangerous temptation for women". It's a glairing flaw nearly all of them share and that sucks (and frankly it's a flaw Serana's writting kinda has in my opinion, minus the lesbianism part, but let's not dwell on that)- so if you can't get past it, it's completly understandable, be on your way and have a nice day <3

- Daughters of Darkness ! A toxic man is returning to london with his newly wed wife, but they get stuck in Belgium and are forced to stay in a luxurious hotel. Don't worry about the 10/10 smokeshow countess seducing his wife :). Completely unrelated, this movie has, in my opinion, the most beautiful lesbian kiss I've ever seen- but I might not be very objective because Delphine Seyrig is there lglglflflllglm The best one in the list ! So if you want to whatch one, whatch this one <3

- The blood spattered bride ! This is more of... an aquired taste let's say- but I really like it ! A quite effective horror movie, with goofy ass scenes (shoutout to the vampire lady buried in the sand naked with only a diving mask that is not the screenshot because tits), and emasculation being a recuring theme <3 (but if you want to watch it, please check the content warnings beforehand, it has a lot of very shocking and frontal scenes, and it's the 70s so it's not done very tactfully. Also pretty intense flashing lights)

- The vampire lovers ! Ok so this one is a lot less fun compared to the other two because it's made by the Hammer BUT... 1) Ingrid Pitt hello and 2) it's such a intriging thing to see a very christian/conservative studio make a film like that. I know a lot of people don't like the Hammer movies from the 70s, because the studio had a lot less money, and were making wild decisions. But I love them, because they tend to be much more fun bloody and sexy ! I'm a simple woman mjllkklhkhlhlho case in point with the vampire lovers (although if you want a fun vampire hammer movie from the 70s, Dracula ad 1972 is way better). And Peter Cushing is there (i love this man so much-) !

And now I shall resume my quest to find Vampire Lesbos by Jésus Franco and have a probably mid experience watching it xoxo

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reverieparacosm · 3 months ago

Text

Art's Silent Language (Lukai Hwei x GN!Reader)

Warnings: violence, blood, slight torture, kidnapping

Chapter 4: Through the Artist's Eyes

(part 1 here)

Summary: Captured by Jhin, you face a final performance of pain and beauty. Will this be Jhin's last act, or just the beginning of something more?

(Note is at the end of the chapter)

A searing pain lanced through your skull, each beat of your heart a hammer blow against it. You fight to open your eyes, the world a swirling vortex of darkness and pain. You blink, the world snapping into focus, revealing a figure bathed in the dim, ethereal glow of a single lantern.

Jhin.

His lips curl into a smile that holds no warmth, only a chilling, unsettling amusement. He moves with a grace that belies the terror he instills, his fingers, slender and elegant, tracing the outline of a wound on your head.

The cloth he holds, pristine white against the darkness, is a stark contrast to the crimson blossoming on it. He presses it gently against your wound, the pressure a searing agony. But there is a strange, almost hypnotic quality to his touch, a calculated precision that feels more like a surgical procedure than a simple act of tending to a wound. Each stroke of the cloth is deliberate, methodical, as if he were an artist meticulously applying paint to a canvas. The blood, once a vibrant red, is absorbed into the fabric, leaving a dark, ominous stain that mirrors the chilling dread that grips your heart.

You try to speak, to scream, but your throat is parched, your voice a mere croak.

"Shh, do not struggle," he coos, dabbing at your face. You flinch at his touch, feeling scrapes where your skin meets ropes. Jhin examines you with a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and malice, as if savoring discomfort. "You’ll make this worse for yourself," he warns softly, leaning very close.

"Release me," you say sharply.

Jhin throws back his head and laughs, a grating cacophony that sets your nerves on edge. Slowly, he circles you, trailing a gloved finger along your tense shoulders.

"My dear captive, you presume to threaten me?" he croons softly. "It is I who hold power in this dance, not some chirping fledgling gasping in my claws."

Halting before you, Jhin grips your chin in a punishing grip. His veneer of control cracks, exposing raving lunacy beneath.

"No artist lets his muse flee until the opus is complete! I have divined such exquisite torments for our finale. Through your anguished song will I craft my crowning masterwork!"

His long-fingered hand traces your cheekbone, leaving a trail of cold in its wake. You tremble under his gaze, uncertain of what horrors lay in store.

You struggle against your bonds, to no avail. Jhin observes your movements with interest, like a painter studying his subject. Outside, the sunset paints the decaying walls in hues of orange and gold.

"Through art, all things can be transformed," Jhin continues rapturously. "Your mortal flesh will become something everlasting. I will alchemize your essence until only brilliance remains."

He lifts a glinting tool, and you see it is a sculpting knife, its edge honed to deadly precision. Panic rises in your throat as Jhin studies the play of fading sunlight on the blade.

"Diamonds, like humanity, are born of turmoil. Extreme heat and pressure fuse the chaotic cloud into clarity. So too shall you be remade." His voice rings with messianic fervor. "Soon, you will shine eternally as my greatest creation. The transformation begins...let the ceremony commence!"

As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, more details of your surrounds emerge. Crumbling brick walls are papered with faded posters advertising long-forgotten shows. A thick layer of dust covers the worn floorboards; your chair stands center-stage in a decrepit house.

Overhead, tattered curtains sway in the breeze drifting through broken windows. Beams of dying sunlight pierce the gloom, illuminating spinning dust motes like flecks of gold. It is a place suspended between creation and ruin - the perfect setting for Jhin's dark vision.

The artist himself paces before you, muttering excitedly to himself.

"The lighting is perfect, the composition sublime," he muses. "All that remains is to complete my masterwork."

Jhin's hands flit restlessly over his assortment of strange artifacts: gleaming surgical tools, arcane tomes bound in human skin, vials containing viscous liquids and mysterious powders. His meticulous artist’s mind sorts rapidly through options.

Finally, he selects an instrument resembling a paintbrush, but its bristles end in thin blades. He tests the edge delicately against his finger, nodding in approval at the bead of blood welling forth.

"First, we strip away your outer shells," Jhin declares, tracing the blade lightly over your cheek. "Only then can your truest essence shine through, polished to dazzling radiance.”

Jhin steps close, looming over you with the metallic bristles poised at your throat. You thrash against the ropes binding you, heart pounding, to no avail.

"Peace, my subject," Jhin soothes. "Struggle will only prolong your suffering. Remain still, and I can elevate you to glory."

His gaze bores into you. With a surgeon's precision, he drags the blade slowly down your neck. You cry out as beads of blood rise in its wake, crimson against your skin.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the blade presses deeper. You inhale sharply but do not cry out - you will not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

A bead of blood wells and Jhin leans in, tongue darting out to sample your essence on his lips.

"Sweet," he groans, eyes fluttering closed. When they open once more, wild hunger blazes within. Jhin looms closer still, trapping you with his gaze as the knife dances over your hammering pulse.

Jhin makes a small noise of pleasure, tilting his head to observe his handiwork. "Exquisite. The raw material reveals its luster."

"Transformation is seldom pleasant," Jhin comments clinically. "But pain birth beauty, as fire shapes the jewel."

"I knew from the start what lurked beneath your silken words and gifts," you say coldly. "The way you twisted Hwei's heart to suit your depraved games, used his passion as just one more sick puppet in your shows."

Jhin's gloved fingers suddenly wrap tight around your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His touch is cold yet burns your skin all the same.

Jhin cocks his head, regarding you with a curled smile. "The petal thought he understood my art. In time, he too would have become a masterpiece."

His patronizing tone only fuels your fury. "I saw how you fed on his love like some parasite, how you twisted his mind until he was but a shadow, living only to feed the void within you."

Chuckling softly, Jhin runs his thumb along your swollen bottom lip. "And what of you, my feisty little songbird? Do you also fly willingly into the fox's waiting jaws?"

You meet his eyes steadily. "Your acts of violence and violation do not move me. I understand you better than you understand yourself - you who knows only how to feed chaos and feel nothing."

Jhin's smiling mask shatters, giving way to something ravenous and raw. "Feel nothing?" he snarls, seizing your face in a crushing grip. "I feel it all, each exquisite moment - the passion, the rapture, the divine perfection of destruction! Through my art alone do I truly live!"

Releasing you, he draws back, composure sliding neatly back into place. But his eyes hold a new calculation.

"And what makes you think you know my intentions, my dear?" he whispers, voice low and deadly. Bloodlust swirls in his eyes yet something else flickers there - intrigue, admiration for your spirit.

You swallow yet hold his stare, defiant to the last. "I see the emptiness within you. Your 'art' is but a shallow mimicry of passion, meaningless destruction performed for an audience of one."

Jhin laughs softly, a mirthless sound. His flawless mask cracks, revealing the gaping void beneath, the ache that drives him to create through carnage alone.

Leaning impossibly close, he breathes against your trembling lips. "Perhaps you know me better than I thought, my clever sparrow. If shallowness is what you perceive...then let me show you the inferno that consumes."

With that, his mouth slants hard over yours, ravaging with a desperate hunger to feel - to feel anything amid the numbness. You gasp into the kiss, your heartbeat answering his like clashing symbols in a dark symphony.

For a stolen moment, passion transcends intention as you drown in sensation. But when Jhin pulls away, craving and madness have resurfaced in his eyes once more. The tender illusion shatters, and you know - this was but one more manipulating performance in his grisly design.

He rises and paces, gesticulating wildly.

"That kiss was but another brushstroke on the canvas of our drama together. Through it, I sought merely to elicit emotion - yours, and of the audience that surely hangs on our every moment."

Pausing, Jhin gazes down at you. His perfect features twist into a ghastly mockery of affection.

"Did you feel, little songbird, as I tore open your heart? Did you tremble with anguished rapture, swept along in the ecstatic tide of annihilation?"

His mocking laughter rings through the dusty room.

Jhin grips your hair forcefully, pulling your head back as he breathes against your neck, his warm breath sends shivers racing down your spine. You feel your back arch involuntarily.

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your skin as he slightly bites down on your neck, the sensation both pleasurable and painful.

His hand glides down your arms, fingers trailing lightly as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The touch feels possessive, yet there’s a strange tenderness in his movements. You can’t help but feel the tension building between you, a dance of power and vulnerability. He then shifts his attention to the bindings on your wrists, circling your wrist with his thumb in a deliberate manner, as if testing the strength of your restraints. For a fleeting moment, it feels as if he’s loosening them just enough to let hope flicker to life.

But the moment is fleeting. You turn your head away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the feelings swirling inside you. Just as you think you’ve escaped his grasp, he takes your face in both of his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes softly against your lips.

"That, my dear, is the only 'passion' I know—the opus of agonies I craft through my works," he whispers, his voice smooth and chilling. "All else is but pale imitation. Remember that… should any wisp of feeling dare cloud your judgment."

With a savage grin and swish of his cloak, Jhin is once more lost to his dark imaginings, leaving you questioning all you thought you knew of this depraved artist.

As Jhin turns away to arrange his infernal stagecraft, you gather every ounce of strength and begin to struggle anew against your bonds. The ropes bite cruelly into your wrists, yet you twist and strain with wild desperation.

Jhin pays you no mind, lost in his own deranged mutterings as he lays out gleaming utensils.

Seeing your chance, you redouble your efforts with a frenzied yell. The ropes fray and tear—and with one final wrench, your hands rip free!

Jhin whirls at the sound, anger flaring in his eyes at being denied his dark muse. But you waste no time gawking at the monster—you launch from the chair at him.

Off-balance, Jhin crashes to the dust-caked floorboards. His blade skitters away into the shadows.

Not sparing a glance at him, you sprint for the splintered exit with renewed vigor. Black night swallows your retreating form as you pour every ounce of will into escape.

Laughter and rage and the sound of pounding footsteps chase on your heels.

Your lungs burn as you push your exhausted body further into the desert night. Jhin's maniacal laughter still echoes behind you, though the sound is fading with each step. You dare not look back, knowing his twisted grin will be etched in your mind if you do. All that matters is putting as much distance between him and yourself as possible.

Up ahead, a faint glow peeks through the sparse trees - an oasis. New adrenaline surges through your veins at the sight of what might offer refuge. Sand kicks up with each footfall as you rush toward the glowing pool of water. Palm trees whip past you in a blur, their branches outstretched like beckoning arms guiding you to safety.

Bursting into the small oasis, you stumble to a halt beside the water's edge. Your hands brace against your knees as greedy lungs drink in air. Through the shallow pants, your ears strain for any sign you are still being pursued. Only the gentle lapping of waves meets them, the normal night sounds of the desert serenading the sparse trees.

Slowly, muscles uncoil from their clenched state. The immediate threat seems past, at least for now. You lower yourself fully to the cool sand and let the sight of glittering water soothe frazzled nerves.

Soft moonlight dances across the surface, dappling the shore in an ethereal glow. Clarity returns along with your breathing, allowing reality to truly sink in.

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the desert chill.

Pushing to unsteady legs, you shuffle closer to the pool's edge. Your parched throat begs for refreshment after the exhausting escape. Cupping greedy hands, you bring the cool liquid to chapped lips. Too soon, the last droplets fall from your palms. Thirst barely slaked; other needs demand attention in your weary state.

Scanning the sandy shore, your gaze lands on a cluster of palm fronds piled near the trees. With any luck, they might offer cushion and cover for the night. One problem at a time - rest now, plans later. Heavy feet carry you to the pile and you collapse into the fronds with a sigh. Cool surrounds quickly lull frayed senses as lingering adrenaline fades into exhaustion.

Darkness pulls you under like a comforting blanket.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The desert night is alive with the constant song of insects and wildlife. A sliver of moon drifts overhead amid patches of scattered clouds, casting the oasis in a dim glow.

As you drift in the space between sleep and waking, a shiver runs through your body that has nothing to do with the cool night air.

Something is different. An energy tingles at the edge of perception, faint yet familiar. Slowly prying open weary eyes, you lift your head from the nest of palm fronds.

Rippling across the surface of the water is a blur of colors, dancing in hues too vibrant to be natural.

A paintbrush comes into focus, wielded by a figure kneeling at the pool's edge. Colored wisps trail his movements like an artist’s ashes, each strand levitating impossibly in the air.

There is no mistaking Hwei's magical brush at work, weaving ephemeral illustrations that shimmer on the water's canvas.

His eyes, iridescent even in shadow, find yours across the shore. Recognition lights within those prismatic orbs before flickering with an emotion you can’t place. Concern? Relief?

With fluid grace, Hwei rises and strides to your side. Up close, faint scents of oils and pigment cling to his frame. His gaze roams your form, lingering on patches of torn cloth.

"You're hurt." His voice is soft yet carries an undercurrent that raises the hairs along your nape. Fingers gently grasp your wrist to examine your wounds. You suppress a wince at the contact.

"It's nothing serious." Your assurance does little to quell the tempest raging behind Hwei's eyes. Releasing your arm, he pulls his brush from where it is strapped across his back. Colors sprung to life along the bristles at his beckon, bleeding together into a soothing teal wash.

Without a word, Hwei dips the brush’s edge into the shimmering paint. Your breath hitches as cool bristles make contact, tracing delicate lines along your wounds.

Where pigment spreads, numbness follows in its wake, deadening pain.

Fascinated, you watch reddened skin knit together before eyes, leaving fresh and unmarred in the healing liquid’s wake.

Magic, or simple a gift of Hwei’s brush? Impossible to say where abilities end and the artist begins.

You gaze up to find his focus intent on the task, lips parted slightly as his skill purifies damaged flesh. Heat rises unbidden to your cheeks under such devoted care. Your heart, already quickened from your closeness, threatens to burst from your ribs.

The last abrasions disappear under careful strokes. Hweis' eyes lift to yours, their depths reflecting colors and emotions too deep to comprehend.

One arm encircles your waist and pulls you against his slender form, the other brushes tousled strands of hair from your face. His thumb lingers and caresses the line of your jaw with tenderness.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Hwei’s hushed murmur causes lids to flutter closed, lost in the soothing rumble of his voice.

Lips meet yours then, slow and searching as if committing every facet to memory through touch alone.

With utmost care, he gathers you into his lap to cradle against his chest. One hand soothingly combs through your hair while the other takes up his brush anew. Upon the oasis sands, Hwei begins to paint in colors of serenity.

Lush blooms spill from under his talented strokes—petite lilies burst with dewdrops; morning glories unfurl translucent petals. Their vivid hues shine all the brighter in the shadows of night. As detail after detail comes alive, the flowers' sweet fragrance joins the cool desert air.

Instead of darkness, visions of sunlit gardens dance behind your closed eyes. Hwei watches vigilantly, brush never ceasing until the last stem stands vibrant and whole. Only then does he set the magical implement aside once more. You feel relaxed and calm.

Gently, he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. Hwei gazes for long moments, memorizing each fleeting emotion buried beneath fatigue. His hands cup your cheeks with care.

"Let me share this burden," Hwei murmurs, breath soft against your lips between words. "I would bear it all if only it rids you of pain."

Then slowly, he lowers his mouth to yours in a kiss filled with promise and devotion profound as the stars above.

Art is the highest form of hope.

All thoughts flee under that tender onslaught. Your hands tangle in his tunic, clinging to escape the nightmares of past hours in his grounding presence.

Within the circle of his embrace, reality seems but a distant dream. Here, in Hwei's arms, you know only comfort, protection... and love that shelters your heart, always, from any threat in the waking world.

As the stars light creeps over the dunes, you stir in Hwei's tender embrace. Beneath palms and stars, the remainder of night has passed in comforting solace.

Gaze meeting Hwei's own, you ask in hushed tones, "How did you find me here?" A rueful smile touches his lips, fingers lifting to brush aside disheveled locks. "Worry not over such details, my heart. What matters is you're safe now."

Still the unknowns nag, his knowing eyes betraying depths beyond casual passersby. "Through your magic, wasn't it?” Hwei's nod grants affirmation, though guarded concern now creases his features. A painter's sight can unveil truths better left buried; it seems...

"Tell me what horrors drove you to this place," he bids softly, voice roughened by rising emotion kept barely leashed. And so, haltingly, the tale spills forth —of Jhins plan, his machinations to make you "a creation beyond compare."

How Jhin's maddened machinations seek to immortalize your agonized demise. How by fortune or fate, an opportunity arises allowing escape from dire design. Yet escape is not the end, as horrors haunt memory still...

At the story's close, Hwei grows deafly silent.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The journey back is a somber one. Smoke rises on the horizon long before Koyehn's Temple simple spires come into view, an ominous shroud hanging overall.

But no prayers can prepare you for the hellscape that awaits.

As the temple comes into sight, it is engulfed in angry orange tongues that devour sacred scrolls and timber alike. Embers swirl chaotically on smoldering thermals, borne aloft to spread ruin further still.

Hwei reins in with a sudden gasp, leaving you to brace against his back. You clutch him tight as anguished cries escape his lips, giving voice to the torment writ large across his features. Never do you see such depths of anguish from the stoic painter, who schools his passions into disciplined lines and fluid strokes.

"No..." Hwei's choked whisper tears at your heart. This place is his sanctuary, his home—now reduced to cindering ruins. You grasp his arm for support as much as offering console, finding only tremors wracking his lithe form in return.

His soul bleeds… and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows him whole.

His brush falls unheeded, magic sparking errant between clenched fingers as if begging release. Yet for all the chaos within, no colors escape Hwei's tight rein—not here, not for this.

Sliding to the ground, you pull him into your arms as tears carve trails down soot-stained cheeks. You stand locked in mournful embrace until the sobs begin to still, the conflagration within banked to smoldering embers once more by love's balm. Lips press against your hair, murmuring apologies for all that can never be regained.

As morning's light lifts the ashen pall shrouding all, the full horror of the night comes into grim clarity. Where once lived and worked over fourscore brothers and sisters, now only broken shells of walls remain amongst the rubble.

You pick your way over the ruins, hoping against hope that some sheltering alcove or secret chamber may offer refuge to even a sole survivor. But as the sun climbs overhead with no signs of life stirring, grim certainty takes root.

You stand alone as the last remnants of an order consigned now to memory alone.

Hwei searched the longest for any survivors, as if refusing to accept the bitter truth laid bare before your eyes. When he finally sinks to his knees in defeat, wracking sobs echo the agonized screams that must have filled the night air as flames claimed their victims. You pull him close, but no comfort of yours can staunch the flood of his grief.

In time, his tears run dry, leaving in their wake an exhaustion of body and spirit you fear no rest can repair.

Hwei wanders as one dead, seeking solace that forever eludes him amongst the ruins. Nights find him waking in terror, reliving each moment of devastation in vivid and gruesome detail no hand can capture.

One such night, a glint of color amidst the cinders draws his numbed feet. Lifted free, it reveals a fiendish trap, its petals splayed open in grinning mockery—a lotus blossom none, but one artist could have crafted.

Understanding dawns in those hollow eyes, a cascade of emotions stirring their murky depths once more: terror, sorrow, betrayal... and a dreadful fascination you know all too well.

The ruins fall silent once more as Hwei gazes unblinking upon that noxious blossom. You dare not break his reverie, dreading what shadows might take root should he linger too long in contemplation of such madness... and the dark allure it holds, even for one whose gift is life and color, not decay.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The crackling fire does little to cut through the tavern's smoky chill. You nurse a mug of ale, staring into the fire as if they might hold answers to questions plaguing Hwei's mind.

It has been moons since you left the smoking remnants of Koyehn behind you. Amongst the ashes, you find renewed purpose—your art brings messages of hope and restoration to weary communities... but sometimes also of destruction. But with each new dawn, fresh mysteries call Hwei ever onwards.

You glance to where he sits apart, brush hovering restlessly as always. His eyes, once home to passion's vibrant spectrum, now seem but windows onto an abyss churning with shadows.

Hwei seeks understanding through revelation of torment—by replicating each scene of suffering until its essence bleeds forth. You fear such intimacy with evil may leech away what remains of his light.

As the sun dips low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the tavern’s wooden beams, you sit beside Hwei, captivated by the way his brush dances across the canvas. Each stroke is filled with emotion, transforming the blank surface into a vibrant landscape of colors. Hwei pours his heart into the painting, bringing to life a sun rising triumphantly over a gentle sea, its rays bursting forth like tendrils of warmth. Hwei is completely absorbed in his painting.

Truly, no artist tolerates reality.

You lean closer, intrigued by the imagery. “Is it a sunset or a sunrise?” you ask, admiring the way the light plays in his eyes. Resting your chin on Hwei's shoulder, you feel a warm connection, as if the moment stretches into eternity.

Hwei pauses, his brush hovering above the canvas as he turns to you, a soft smile blooming on his lips. “It’s a sunrise,” he replies, his voice warm and tender. “A new beginning. I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.”

His gaze lingers on you, and in that moment, the world outside the tavern fades away. You feel a magnetic pull, an unspoken connection that draws you closer.

The ambiance is thick with the scent of paint and the calming whispers of the sea outside.

You close your eyes as his hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb softly traces your bottom lip. As he leans in closer, you can feel his warm breath mingling with yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, mere brushes of contact that leave you craving more. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against his form.

His other hand slides into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands to tilt your head to a better angle. His kiss becomes deeper, more passionate. When his tongue sweeps along your lip, you grant access eagerly. As your tongues meet, a soft moan escapes you.

All the while, his hand on your cheek begins a slow descent. Over your jaw, down your neck, it comes to rest on your waist. His fingertips graze under the edge of your shirt, sending sparks across your skin. You cling to him more tightly, lost in the bliss of his lips moving with yours.

When you finally part for air, he does not go far. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as you both pant, lost in the moment. His hand never strays from your waist, thumb making gentle strokes across the sensitive flesh. In his embrace, you have never felt so wanted, so cared for. It is here, in his arms, that you are meant to be.

Hwei opens his eyes and whispers, “Some people are artists. Some themselves, are art.”

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look into his eyes, which shimmer with joy and intensity. But as you glance back at the painting, something catches your eye. Dark, shadowy figures seem to writhe within the vibrant hues, lurking just beneath the surface of the canvas. They flicker in and out of existence, vanishing as quickly as they appear.

A shiver runs down your spine. “Hwei, do you see that?” you ask, pointing to the canvas.

His expression shifts, a shadow crossing his features. “I—I’ll protect you,” he says, his voice suddenly serious, his grip tightening around you. The remnants of the massacre at the temple echo in his eyes, a haunting reminder of the darkness he has faced.

“I know you will,” you reassure him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, the weight of his past hangs heavy in the air. He leans into your touch, the warmth of your presence grounding him. “You’re my light,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the firelight dances upon Hwei's face, you trace gentle fingers along his jaw, brushing aside an ebony strand fallen askew.

Hwei leans into your touch with a soft sigh, clasping your fingers in his own. "I feel there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. I feel like art and love are the same thing: it’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”

His lips graze your knuckles, stirring memories as vivid as yesterday's joyous discoveries. For a moment's respite, all traces of grief and care dissolve beneath remembered rapture...

...Until a sharp rap at the door shatters remnants of days past like spun glass.

You open the door. A single lotus flower lays on the ground.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The memories of Hwei's past weigh heavily on him, each loss a haunting echo in his mind. Yet, as he paints, the burdens begin to lift. His art speaks of grief and longing, capturing the essence of his experiences in hues and textures that transcend language. With every stroke, he communicates the inexpressible—an intimate connection to those who suffer alongside him.

While words can falter, art holds the power to bridge the chasms of isolation. It is a silent language, one that resonates deeply within the hearts of those who behold it, conveying feelings that can never be articulated. The beauty of creations offers solace, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, connection is possible through the shared understanding of emotion.

Art can speak for one, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. In a world rife with pain, it becomes a guiding light—a universal form of communication that unites hearts across boundaries.

Though silent, art speaks volumes. In this moment of catharsis through creative expression, one begins to find healing. Art provides an empowering and voiceless language to communicate intimate feelings beyond what words can say.

Especially in times of deep suffering when words fail, art becomes a "silent language" to express the inexpressible emotions of a soul.

Through art, one always finds a way to express the inexpressible, to share a silent language with the world.

Art's Silent Language.

Note: Well, here it is—finally the grand finale of my fanfic! 🎉 Did you notice that this is the fourth chapter and the whole thing clocks in at 14,444 words? I mean, come on, Jhin would definitely be proud of me for that little numerical homage. Four is his jam, right? Haha! So, about the ending... it’s kind of a happy one, or at least an open one. I did toy with the idea of killing off the protagonist—just a little cheeky thought, you know? Hehe. Oh! And I hope you caught the title drop at the end, “Art’s Silent Language.” Subtle, right? Or maybe not so much, but I tried! Now, I did mischaracterize Jhin a tad for my down-bad heart (shoutout to all my fellow simps!), but I did my best to keep him lore-accurate. This chapter is dedicated to all my broken artists out there. 💔 Don’t let life get you down—pick up the pieces and create something beautiful! That’s the real message here. Art can express feelings that words sometimes can’t. As I wrote, "Art is the highest hope." And for the Van Gogh fans, I hope you recognized some of his quotes sprinkled throughout! I love Van Gogh, and honestly, Hwei gives off major Van Gogh vibes. Plus, he has that surrealist flair, so it felt natural to weave in some of that genius. If you’re curious about my theories on Hwei, check out my theory account (https://www.tumblr.com/hwei-theories?source=share). And if you want to see more of my chaotic thoughts, here’s my main account (https://www.tumblr.com/reverieparacosm?source=share). Thanks for reading, everyone! Keep creating! 💖

#hwei league of legends #hwei #lukai hwei #hwei the visionary #league of legends #hwei x reader #hwei lol #jhin league of legends #jhin #jhinhwei #khada jhin #league of legends x reader #jhin the virtuoso #jhin x reader

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amaditalks · 4 months ago

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“He may not be in office, but Donald Trump has been speaking with the powers that be about Israel’s war on Gaza—but it’s not in an effort to end the genocide.

Instead, Trump has allegedly been talking with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to avert a cease-fire deal, fearing that doing so could help Vice President Kamala Harris win in November, according to PBS.

“The reporting is that former President Trump is on the phone with the Prime Minister of Israel, urging him not to cut a deal right now, because it’s believed that would help the Harris campaign,” said PBS’s Judy Woodruff Monday night. “So, I don’t know where—who knows whether that will come about or not, but I have to think that the Harris campaign would like for President Biden to do what presidents do, and that’s to work on that one.”

It wasn’t immediately clear if Woodruff was referring to a new report, or an Axios story last week that cited two U.S. sources as claiming that Trump and Netanyahu had spoken on the phone about cease-fire and Gaza hostage talks. Netanyahu’s office and Trump both separately denied the report.”

****

Right now, US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken is in Israel, trying to get the ceasefire and long-term peace deal that both Israel and Hamas have already tentatively agreed to hammered out and brought to fruition. President Biden has been clear that this is one of his top priorities for his remaining months in office. Kamala Harris has made it clear that this is something that must get done. Even with a tentative agreement, both sides are slow walking the process of ending this ongoing horror.

It would be exactly like Trump and completely in line with his long-term behavior for him to try to undercut this peace process, at the cost of human lives, for his own benefit. That’s who he is. And he and Netanyahu are close. Biden and Netanyahu very much are not. He and Netanyahu are both, after all, criminals. Birds of a feather and all of that.

I cannot reiterate more strongly, especially for those of you who are still hedging about voting for Kamala Harris because of Palestine that you are making a grave error and have been all along. It is time to course correct.

If you care about the lives of Palestinian people, you cannot do anything that risks Donald Trump returning to the White House. End of story.

#donald trump #benjamin netanyahu #i/p conflict #israel/palestine #logan act #us politics #us presidential election

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wuxian-vs-wangji · 4 months ago

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NO NON ON ONO NONONONONO EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW WHAT YOU MEANT BY THAT COMMENT THAT GUN GASLIGHTS PRAPAI

I think most of it made it into the show, but there are some enhancing details that didn't.

I'll put it below a cut, because it really gets into ugly stuff.

Before opening the door to the condo bedroom, Petch (the other dude in the room) had told Prapai that Sky showed up, saw Gun, and dragged him into the bedroom.

He goes in and sees Gun on top of Sky, who isn't resisting in any way, and has his eyes closed while Gun is on top of him and biting at his neck and chest.

It's instantly clear they're having sex, like, penetration has happened. Sky is keeping his eyes closed, but he isn't shaking or clutching the sheets or anything. He's just laying there.

And Gun keeps saying Sky invited him up after they ran into each other, this was Sky's idea. Sky won't even acknowledge that Prapai is in the room.

Payu is guarding the door (Petch had mentioned others were coming), so Rain is with Prapai. But Sky won't acknowledge Rain either.

Prapai punches Gun, and he really is struggling with knowing Sky wouldn't do this and also knowing Sky already tried to sabotage their relationship recently.

He is kind of lost for a second. Like, he doesn't fully believe Gun, but he also doesn't fully know Gun is lying. He needs Sky to make it clear for him, he will believe whatever Sky says.

Prapai forces Sky to open his eyes and sees the complete void in there. No pain, no anger, no anything. No emotion. After jolting Sky and getting him to see Prapai, all Sky does is beg Prapai to not give him away.

And as much as the void in Sky's eyes told Prapai all he needed to know, the words just verify what he suspects.

What even Sky didn't remember from the first assault was that Gun took and kept photos on his phone. He showed them to Sky, claiming he'd shown the pictures to Prapai and Prapai was so disgusted that he threw Sky away.

The pictures show three men assaulting Sky at once. Gun picked a photo that makes it look like Sky is willingly giving a man a blowjob while being double-penetrated. And Gun claims that's what Sky was always into.

That REALLY cements it for Prapai. He knows Sky isn't like that. Prapai has participated in orgies, he admits that, but even though it's hard to read Sky's face in the photograph, just by knowing Sky he knows it isn't consensual. It's Sky just trying to survive.

That's when Prapai takes Gun's phone, breaks it, smashes his head into the wall, rips out the eyebrow ring, and beats Gun until, as the novel puts it "he is no different from a random piece of flesh".

Prapai is covered in blood, and Rain is crying while he tries to get Sky to respond. After what he said to Prapai, Sky locks down in a truly terrifying way, and his eyes are open but he can't see anything.

Eventually, Rain's panic snaps Prapai away from Gun, who is no longer moving. Prapai can tell that Sky is drowning himself in absolute horror and agony, to the point where Prapai sees that Sky isn't even breathing anymore. That's when he screams at Sky to jolt him, Sky always responds to Prapai's voice.

Sky finally starts crying, and Prapai just holds him through it. Payu calls Chai, and when Chai arrives, hands everything and everyone over to him (since Gun had more men coming to help move Sky to a second location, they want to get those guys too). Payu doesn't say anything to Prapai as he leads Sky out, he just quietly hands his car keys to Prapai (Prapai always rides his bike on race nights, and obviously Sky should not be on a bike in his state).

Prapai takes Sky back to his (Prapai's) house, and Payu is going to take care of Rain (who never really stops blaming himself for delivering Sky to Gun that night).

Just to really hammer home how much Prapai beats Gun- when Rain curbstomps Gun's dick before Payu brings him out of the condo, he doesn't kick it. Gun is on his back where Pai left him- Rain full on walks up and stomps his dick into the floor. And Gun doesn't react in any way.

Before losing consciousness, Gun admits he made it all up and assaulted Sky, but Prapai really can't really hear anything at that point. All he's screaming is "You hurt my boyfriend" and "You hurt my Sky". He also didn't need the admission from Gun, he'd figured a lot out.

He knows that Sky thought he (Prapai) gave him to Gun, but doesn't understand anything around that and doesn't care at that moment. Just like he doesn't care about the picture Gun showed him. Like, yes, in general he very fucking much cares, but right then in that moment his exclusive focus is on WHATEVER he can do for Sky.

Prapai takes Sky into the shower (both to put distance between Sky and the assault itself by wiping any trace of it or any scent of anything from him, and to clean Gun's blood off them both, since Prapai held Sky's face while his hands were covered in Gun's blood).

He wraps Sky up in towels, and that's when Sky starts talking. Because for his own sake, he NEEDS Prapai to know what happened. Because even though he never REALLY fully believed Prapai would toss him aside, Gun played into his triggers and his PTSD and shattered Sky.

And he desperately needs Prapai to know that. Even though obviously Prapai is taking care of him and holding him and saved him, he needs to know Gun's gaslighting didn't work on Prapai.

And there are a couple of things that Prapai... didn't believe but also can see where he almost fell for stuff. Like, if Prapai didn't have blinding and all consuming faith in his own knowledge of Sky and who Sky is, he might have bought it.

But at every point, the side of his brain that hears Gun's gaslighting and is like "That makes logical sense" smashes into the side of his brain that screams "Sky loves me", and "Sky loves me" wins out every single time.

While Prapai wishes he could go back and murder Gun himself- or at least rip every tooth out of his head- he knows Chai will deal with Gun more thoroughly than he ever could.

#ask #i went beyond the initial hit to kind of sum the whole sequence up

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sonicasura · 2 days ago

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Personal Headcanons #4

Another set of headcanons for you folks! I haven't done these in quite a while so now seemed like a good time. Let's get started!

Dynamite Anton (Antonball/Antonblast)

Has knowledge on anything beverage based, especially if it involves alcohol. Anton is surprisingly adept at liquor magic in particular. Some of his most prized Spirits are his own creations.

A surprisingly decent parent despite his overindulgence in alcohol and not paying his tab. Can only cook simple foods like box macaroni, doesn't have a car so he piggybacks his kids to school(Anton is super fast/strong), and tries to be presentable for important occasions. Will teach his children how to use a giant hammer alongside taking them out for their first alcoholic drink.

Has used his skills as a former exterminator to deal with pests in the apartment. Sometimes Anton would do other people's houses for extra cash. He will charge extra for mole problems though. (The man absolutely loathes those kinds of pests in particular.)

Rarely shaves at all. Anton is a hairy man and he will only shave for two reasons. If it hinders him in some way or the hair is ruined in some way like being burnt for example. Becomes completely unrecognizable should he ever go hairless.

Bright red skin = constant jokes and color related nicknames. Anton has been called things like Mr. Habanero, Tomato Nose, Lobsterman, and Dynamite Strawberry. Doesn't hesitate to fire back his own brand of name calling.

Kafka Hibino (Kaiju No. 8)

Very quick to learn new hobbies but has some difficulty keeping up with a few. Kafka knows how to play guitar but hasn't fixed up his broken one. Can cook yet either has no time or money to do so. He started both again after joining the Defence Force.

Great with kids but needs to adapt a few of his skills whenever in kaiju form. Has thought about having his own children despite the new inhuman side to him. Rather plan ahead on the topic but Kafka can adjust to surprises with some issues.

Has a personal notebook about his kaiju form and Tiny the Larval Kaiju. Any new information is added to the book in a unique cipher only he knows. Unique forms like Riot or Modes such as Drill and Hybrid have their own sections.

Kafka still attends events with his Monster Sweeper friends even after joining the Defense Force. He sometimes helps out on a few jobs if he has the time. Kafka does have some trouble not eating kaiju corpses, partly because his alter ego Ai bitches about wasting meat.

Mild gamer and manga nerd. You are more likely to see Kafka binge his equivalent of Pokemon(Guramon) than watching a sports game. Will absolutely word vomit game and manga trivia if given the chance.

Eddie Brock/Venom

Eddie tends to do odd jobs if he ever really needs the money. Sure the man can rob the corpses of the criminals Venom eats but this is a better approach. Plus that blood money could go to trusted charities.

Having a Symbiote means getting sick less. There is the occasional cold or at worse flu for Eddie if his Other doesn't catch it in time. Food poisoning is a 50/50 since the food has to not agree with Venom at all for it to happen.

The symbiote tends to pick up hobbies very quickly. Sometimes Eddie gets so wrapped up in an article that the computer becomes unavailable. Venom has gotten into knitting and painting the most as it adds some color to the apartment.

Binging old movies at home is a nice pastime for the duo. There are few new films that could get Eddie's attention so he likes to go for the classics. His Other finds horror movies hilarious and both make fun of the really bad ones.

Cryptid hunters have visited San Francisco to find the Lethal Protector. Neither half makes it easy for them especially since Eddie learned how to wipe and edit video footage. The real stupid ones always ruin Venom's hunting since they pretend to be criminals or have someone else do it. Expect those particular folks to be tied upside down by the nearest traffic light.

Until next time folks, have a great day!

@noodlesbf-blog @mechazushi @discoknack

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theperfectquestion · 2 months ago

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ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT'S ME, DEAN

The Venture Bros. approach to God Almighty is in line with its approach to all authority: one more rubber mask on one more old weirdo.

A revelation hit me during a recent rewatch of adult swim's long-running animated pastiche of adventure fiction, The Venture Bros. It is such a large scale Biblical relevation that I can't believe I didn't notice it before: Yahweh, the Lord of the Old Testament, is a recurring minor character, voiced by Archer and Bob Burger's H. Jon Benjamin.

For the uninitiated, one of the supporting players in The Venture Bros. is Doctor Orpheus, who rents rooms from Doc 'Rusty' Venture, the father of the titular twins. Doctor Orpheus is one of my favourite characters in the show, because he is a protagonist of a whole other pulp fiction genre who is comfortable being a secondary character in the world of The Venture Bros.

Orpheus is a mix of Doctor Strange any number of Christopher Lee's characters from Hammer Horror films. He looks like Vincent Price in those occasions when he is being chummy with Kermit the Frog. And this Sorceror Supreme, who guards the very fabric of reality from unfathomable peril, who commands his own super-team with its own villains and long-term plots, serves the sitcom role of kindly but wacky neighbour, and the father of young Dean Venture's hopeless love interest, Triana.

A brilliant recurring joke is that, although magic is definitely real in the universe of The Venture Bros., and that Doctor Orpheus unquestionably has talents that bring the entire nature of reality into question, Doc Venture refuses to acknowledge or respect magic. As a former boy adventurer, he has seen so many supernatural threats pulled out from under their rubber masks that, as an adult, he simply doesn't waste a microsecond of his time considering magic as anything other than a cheap trick. Doctor Orpheus is often torn between defefending his professional pride and placating his often unkind landlord.

There's a lot to Doctor Orpheus, but the aspect I'd like to focus on is the fact that he regularly visits an extradimensional entity in his daughter's closet. Orpheus' command of spatial dimensions is dealt with matter-of-factly: his rooms are physically located elsewhere, and the abandoned arachnid research centre he rents on the Venture property is just a convenient place to warp space so that he can access them from Colorado. You see, Doctor Orpheus is recently divorced, and retains full custody of his teenage daughter, Triana. One has to read between the lines here, but presumably the Venture Compound is close to where Triana's mother has moved, and this extradimensional trick is a way for Triana to be able to visit her mother while being legally resident at his address. The fact that this is treated so casually is a joke in itself, and is another Definitely Magical thing that Rusty completely ignores, though there may be some connection between Doctor Orpheus' rooms and the reason why Rusty, who is a notoriously workshy and light-fingered kind of super-scientist, is able to produce the world's first functional teleporter later on in the series.

So with all this malarky being commonplace, it is only a small elaboration to say that, within Doctor Orpheus' house, there is a portal to another dimension. But due to some magical snarl he can't straighten out, the portal is located inside his daughter's wardrobe. Orpheus goes inside the closet to talk to the Master.

The Master, all all-knowing, shape-shifting entity who lives beyond time and space and who mentors Doctor Orpheus in the magical arts (though, in practice, we see him act more of a life coach), is presented without ceremony or occasion. Even his flat voice which, as mentioned, is from the proudly rangeless but reliably hilarious mouth of H. Jon Benjamin, undercuts the enormity of his presence. The Master seems to spend most of his mental energy coming up with live-action productions of custom Aesop's Fables for Orpheus using his shape-shifting abilities and, occasionally, a put-upon assistant. These morality plays seem to always, by accident or design, lead to the Master getting his rocks off in some way or another. The Master's horniness seem to cast him in the mold of a Tibetan vajrācārya - after all, if Orpheus is Doctor Strange, then the Master is his Ancient One, who is vaguely Tibetan in origin. The joke is that rather than being enigmatic, the Master blurts out the morals and meanings of his koans almost immediately. But then in the Season 4 episode, 'The Better Man,' the Master shows that he may have origins further West.

So in that episode Triana, Doctor Orpheus' daughter, enters her closet and unexpectedly encounters the Master. We have established before that only Orpheus can enter the Master's realm. The Master of course was expecting her and has assumed a form to deliver a parable. In the form of an adult Dean Venture, the Master reveals that Dean is an artificially produced clone, insists that his genes are therefore polluted, and expresses profound disgust at the fact that Dean is uncircumcised. He outright tells Triana to leave the Venture Compound to live with her mother and claim her birthright as her mother's pupil.

To me, all this feels very unlike something a Tibetan Tantric Master would say. All this talk of bloodlines, foreskins and abominations makes me suspect that the Master is actually Yahweh, the God of the Old Testament, in one of his burning bush moods. Now, in any other show, the existence of God Almighty living in a character's wardrobe might be more of a big deal. You could certainly build an entire series around that exact premise. But it is perfectly consistent for The Venture Bros. to present the ultimate authority of the Universe as a funny side character who appears in four episodes and has only a small bearing on the plot. That's all in a day's work for The Venture Bros., a show that shares Rusty's deep-rooted skepticism of any and all authority figures and the structures that support them.

For example, we meet the President of the United States on one occasion and he is a crass, childish buffoon who spouts out reheated Clinton jokes. That's fairly run-of-the-mill, but the secret agent characters of The Venture Bros. often invoke the Secret President. We never meet Secret President, and the character who is most likely to have encountered them in person, General Timothy Treister, talks about Secret President in the tone of voice a 13 year old would use to brag about their girlfriend in Canada. As it is, we're given no reason why there should be a Secret President or what function they serve, except to give spies something to brag about. In the United States of The Venture Bros., the fake President is an idiot and the real President doesn't do anything.

The pattern repeats: the diabolical Guild of Calamitous Intent, which dominates the world of professional villany, is governed by a board of shadowy figures who, once we get to know them, are all either has-beens or senile and I've of them is literally a clown. Their leader, The Sovereign, appears either as an intimidating floating head like The Wizard of Oz or as David Bowie, though we learn later he is just a shapeshifter who takes the form of David Bowie because he wants to be cool. The Guild goes through a few changes of management throughout the series, but it doesn't really matter who is at the top - the whole operation is run by two admin goofuses who are perfectly content to prop up a desk and pee in bottles.

Even when we meet the Illuminati, the chosen powerful few who work behind the scenes to keep the torch of civilisation alive by managing technological progress, they turn out to be a VR simulation designed to allow intelligence agencies to hoard the best gizmos for themselves.

When Doctor Orpheus detects the presence of a malicious evil so great that he nearly suffers a panic attack - Doctor Orpheus, who routinely travels to Hell and back without too much trouble - an unholy entity that turns out to be a vintage AI built by Rusty's father, this unspeakable Satan is easily distracted by a roll of old videotape projected onto her camera.

This is a world where it is rubber masks all the way down. Anybody who presents themselves as an authority is invariably mistaken. Doomsday devices are easily defused, or revealed to have never been anything of the sort. Secret are kept by braggarts, heroes are hollow, crowns are held by those who couldn't find a chair when the music stopped, and power is a ball that is always fumbled. So why wouldn't God Almighty live in a teenager's closet, licking his balls, obsessing over foreskins, while the world muddled along without Him?

#the venture bros #rusty venture #osi #long post #secret president #venture brothers #venturebros #dean venture #doctor orpheus

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