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tswwwit · 13 days ago

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Widower part three! Containing syrup, Idaho, and other interesting facts.

Part One is here, and Part Two is here.

“Welp! With the chores outta the way,” Bill dusts his hands off, turning this way and that as he examines the empty field. He reels on Dipper, eye-smiling in his strange, triangular manner. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Dipper frowns, but doesn’t speak. He’s not dignifying that with a response.

Beside him, Mabel clears her throat, nudging him with an elbow. When he levels his glare at her, she returns it, in a clear ‘don’t piss off the super-powerful demon’ look.

He makes a face right back. What if he wants to piss off the super-powerful demon? Did she think about that? It’s not like they’re in danger. Mostly. The wide-eyed look of frustration he gets in return makes him roll his eyes.

Bill interrupts, clearing the throat he doesn’t have. “As touching as your fleshy blood-related bonding is - super gross, by the way -” He waves towards his terrible demonic base. “How ‘bout checking out the digs? See all the cooler things? Settle in!”

Mabel grimaces; Dipper merely rubs his temples.

More stuff after flipping his concept of magic and physics on the head, great. He totally wanted to have his brain explode, literally -

Another elbow to the side; Mabel, pointing out the winged eyeballs flying distantly overhead - and honestly? Point. They should probably stick by the guy who can fend off laser-shooting demonic pests.

“Great.” Dipper says, waving Bill forward with a grandness he doesn’t feel. “Lead the way.”

Bill does as requested. with considerable aplomb. He even gives a little mocking bow, tipping his hat, before he brings his two human captives back to his lair. Super cool. Definitely not ominous.

Dipper slinks along in Bill’s path, half-listening to him talk as they wander back into the black halls of the Fearamid. The stone makes almost no sound against his sneakers, while Bill himself makes none at all with his floating bullshit.

“Don’t make that face, kid,” Bill says, rolling his eye at Dipper’s askance look. “You won’t find a more comfy pad to hang out than the ol’ Fearamid! Trust me!”

Dipper grunts instead of a response. It’s a point he would love to refute, except. It is kind of comfy, in a weird way.

Bill’s lair has demonic air conditioning, or something, so the temperature’s neither too hot nor too cool. The halls are roomy, with no demons in sight for now, and though the non-euclidean construction is strange, it’s not too confusing. Almost like a puzzle he’s already solved.

Which is a good thing, really. Odds are they’re going to see a lot more of the place.

Bill leads him and his sister on another merry trip through his incomprehensible fortress, heavy bass from the party pounding in the walls, and he talks constantly. The noise is terrible - and the amount of bragging one triangle manages to produce per second is way too high.

Though considering what Dipper’s just seen… the boasts aren’t entirely unwarranted.

Sure, Bill’s shown off his magic before. He loves a good show, and tries to make his excursions exciting. He’s turned people into statues, blasted a few buildings into dust, mutated animals, controlled the weather -

But those were just advanced versions of typical demon powers. The logical assumption was that he was an extra-potent version of your standard demon grunt, and his bragging pure bluster.

Turns out all the shit Bill talked? Actually comes with the insane, physics-defying reality manipulating chops to back it up.

Dipper studies demons, it’s his job, and even he didn’t anticipate… that.

Bill Cipher is a bigger threat than anyone expected. Ever. A king not just in name, but in power. A monster among monsters. An immense, annoying, violent threat.

Dipper has to tell people. Spread the word. Let them what they’re really facing, the danger lurking latent inside this fortress -

But he’s trapped here, guided along by a madman with delusions of matrimony, with absolutely no one to warn about it. Except Mabel, who already knows.

And hell, who’d believe him if he did get the word out? Dipper barely believes it, and he saw it all firsthand.

He shivers, though the Fearamid isn’t cold. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down and his thoughts to himself.

The one relief is Mabel. In her continued, alive presence, in having another witness to the insanity - and in how she somehow keeps up with all Bill’s rambling bullshit.

“So, you just sent, like, a billion people flying.” Mabel says, thankfully breaking from the weird fashion tangent they’d been on. “Where did you send everyone?”

“Eh. Places.” Bill says, with his usual specificity. He turns his eye on Dipper before the interruption can even start to form. “They’re fine, kid. Dropped ‘em off in the nearest big human city. Might not be where they were picked up, but your guys can take it from there!”

Well… That didn’t sound like a lie, so. Everyone’s safe. Probably. And it would be unreasonable for Bill to pick out each and every person and figure out where he figurined them.

It’s still annoying. But complaining about how Bill released two thousand captives sounds petty even to Dipper, so he keeps his mouth shut.

As far as deals go, he just pulled possibly the most one-sided one in history - and it wasn’t in Bill’s favor.

His palm still tingles. He rubs it against his jeans rapidly, until it feels hot enough to ignore.

“So…” Mabel continues, hesitant. She taps the tips of her index fingers together, not meeting Bill’s eye. “What about me and Dipper?”

She says it with a hint of hope and a cheerful smile. Dipper sighs again. Optimism. So like his sister - and so misguided.

“C’mon, wasn’t it obvious? You two are sticking with me.” Bill says, resoundingly smug. He slings an arm over Mabel’s shoulders. The other travels a good distance before capturing Dipper, but inevitably drags him in. “Gotta say, it’s been a while since I’ve had mortals hang out in the Fearamid! Kinda nostalgic.”

Yep. No shot they were leaving. Bill already said he was going to help them ‘settle in’, and that means they’re in for the long haul.

After all. He has a ‘wedding’ to plan.

While Dipper’s unimpressed look doesn’t land, Bill takes in Mabel's wide-eyed stare - and rolls his eye again.

“Don’t gimme that look, Shooting Star! You should be flattered! Being a guest at my place is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Well,” He turns to Dipper and winks, a surprising feat with one eye. “Twice, in some cases.”

Ah, yes. The delusion. Dipper hasn’t come up with a good argument against it yet, so he flips this asshole off. Bill beams at him, brightening up and squeezing his shoulder.

Mabel tugs nervously at the hem of her sweater, though she keeps up a smile. The knitting pulls out in loops, and she weaves her fingers into them. “So are we, uh.”

“Safe? Ha! Safety’s a delusion to keep mortal minds safe from existential despair!” Bill says cheerfully. “But, eh, no one here’s gonna mess with you if I have anything to say about it. And I do! At length! With extreme violence if needed!”

“Great.” Dipper says again. He stalks forward, nearly getting away from the arm around his shoulders - until Bill darts over to keep it up, leaving Mabel unmolested. “So we’re captives.”

“Ahem. Guests,” Bill chides, nudging angle against side. “You and me got a wedding to think of, and your sister’s obviously gonna be your Best Man.” He points double finger-guns at Mabel, who’s already perked up at the prospect. “While you get to be the co-star of the show! An entire constellation, even!”

“I know,” Dipper snaps. “You’ve made your intentions pretty clear.”

Though he’s tempted to shrug Bill’s arm off, he holds back. Breathing in, then out again slowly.

Less of a cold shoulder. That was their deal. A few annoyances are a fair price for two thousand lives. Dipper figures he can put up with it a little longer.

That, and the consequences for breaking a deal are, almost universally, painful. He’d rather not find out how theirs works.

Actually getting married, though? That wasn’t part of their agreement, and Bill’s an idiot for not including it in his terms. There’s room to resist. To fight this asshole, in word and in deed.

If Bill thinks he’s gonna get everything he wants? He’s got another thing coming.

“Jeez, you’re grumpy this time ‘round,” Bill says with a sigh. Patting Dipper’s shoulder, he slows to a stop. “Your sister already got her four hundred winks in - but I think you need a nap.”

“Or a sandwich,” Mabel chimes in, unhelpfully. She leans in, stage whispering into Bill’s side. “He gets really hangry.”

“Ha! See, now that’s the kinda insight a guy can work with.” Bill points at her with both hands, then gives a double thumbs-up. “Your sister’s pretty decent again, sapling! I approve.”

Mabel, buoyed by the compliment, sticks her tongue out at her underestimating, ungrateful older brother - then blinks. “Wait. Again?”

God, right. She hasn’t heard the whole story yet.

Dipper waves off her questioning look, with a hint of apology. “Later.”

When they’re not in earshot of the insane demon. Explaining will be hard enough without Bill adding extra ‘details’.

“So! Since the wedding’s a ways off, you both need a place to crash. And we’re already here!” Bill releases Dipper - finally - and spreads his arms wide. “Ta-da!”

Dipper glances around. They’ve reached the middle of a black stone corridor, same as all the others. One single, human-sized door lies to their right, the dark wood inlaid with gold in triangular patterns - but that stuff’s everywhere. It’s elegant, yet not remarkable.

Strange. Dipper was expecting something… more dramatic? Showy? Something on fire, anyway, not woodwork that wouldn’t be out of place in a fancy manor. What’s so special here?

He tries to focus on their surroundings. To find out what’s really going on, even over the music from- then blinks at the near-silence, and reevaluates.

Nevermind, he gets it now. From their position in the Fearamid, the party sounds are so distant he can barely hear them. The halls are clean and clear, without clawmarks on the floor or spilled drinks or blood, and come to think of it - they did go up a bunch of staircases.

Special, then. In that nobody else is up in this section. Wherever Bill’s led them has a distinct vibe of privacy.

“Now where am I gonna stash you, Shooting Star?” Bill rubs under his eye thoughtfully.. He drifts around Mabel in one full circle, examining her in 360 degrees - then stops right in front of her. “Ha! Y’know, I’ve got just the thing!”

One solid clap later, a second door appears on the opposite wall, snapping into existence with a sound not unlike ‘poink’. The pale wood surface is plastered with glittery stars, and a pink plaque with cursive script reads, ‘The In-Law’.

“Oooh,” Mabel’s eyes widen, clapping her cheeks in delight. “Fancy.”

Dipper watches as she flings the door open - winces, briefly, from the eye-searing colors inside - then wonders how Bill got it exactly to her taste.

“But as for you, sapling,” Bill says, eye glinting. He floats over to the ornate door and swings it open, gesturing forward. “You get to stay-”

Dipper gets a glimpse of a wide, dark, richly furnished room - with every surface covered in empty bottles. A brief whiff of stale liquor drifts out before Bill slams it shut, pupil narrowed to a line.

“Actually, y’know what? You two catch up and do sentimental human crap,” Bill says airily. He shoos them away, keeping a firm third arm on the doorknob to hold it closed. “I gotta couple things to take care of.”

Dipper’s about to protest - why does Mabel get the bespoke room, and him the afterparty disaster pile - but his sister seizes him by the wrist and drags him in

Thankfully, Bill doesn’t follow. He simply waves, eye-smiling, and the door slams shut behind them. Dipper glances back, hoping that wasn’t as ominous as it sounded.

“Wow, Bill really knows how to decorate.” Mabel lets go, looking around her room with wide eyes. She spins in a circle, arms in the air. “Look at this place!”

The colorful walls, the bed with strings of lights around it, the rainbow theming. All very Mabel - and all very suspicious. This is clearly some kind of trick.

As his sister starts bouncing on the big pink bed, Dipper nudges a pile of plush animals. No blood gushes out, and there’s no screaming, so he shrugs and says, “It’s okay.”

Mabel stops jumping on the mattress when she catches the look on his face. The smile fades, and she sighs.

“I guess it’s got its downsides.” She slides down to sit on the edge of the bed, kicking her feet. “Like… how I got here.”

Ah. The whole… statue thing must have been lingering in her thoughts for her to come out with it so quickly.

“Yeah.” Shrugging, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets. There’s not much else to say.

“How long was I…”

“About a year.” He tries to crack a smile, reassure her that everything’s okay. He thinks it works, too. Because for the first time in a year, things are okay - Or at least way, way better. “It really freaked everyone out.”

Mabel nods, only half-paying attention. She wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t remember it. But it’s like. I kind of feel it, you know? That time’s passed.”

God, Dipper’s an asshole. Here he is, wallowing in self-pity because a super-powerful being has a crush on him, while Mabel’s dealing with all kinds of bullshit. He moves to put a hand on her shoulder -

“But enough about that!” Mabel rocks up her heels, looking up at the ceiling with her hands tucked behind her back - then reels on him, grinning wide. “I wanna know how long you’ve been dating-”

“Never.” Dipper says, before she can finish the sentence. It’s just so wrong. He returns her responding frown, only deeper and more serious. “I only met the guy today.”

Mabel lets out a low whistle. “Well, when you meet a great guy,” She shrugs, starting to smile. “Gotta move fast!”

“But not this fast.” Dipper cuts an arm through the air. “Bill’s insane. And he’s totally wrong about me being right for him. I’m not even the same person.” Catching Mabel’s confused look, he sighs. “Okay. It’s later, so. Let me fill you in.”

Explaining takes only a couple minutes. How she got enstatued - a fact she’s aware of and not thrilled about - and his efforts to take revenge. How fighting against demonic forces isn’t that hard, when you know what you’re doing. And really, he only made a little, tiny misstep anyone could have made when he ended up captured.

Then, Bill. Being offered as tribute. The culmination of their current situation, and where everything Dipper knows can be compacted into a few bulletpoints:

Dead husband, supposed ‘reincarnation’, and Bill being the worst at making marriage proposals, ever. In that he didn’t even bother with one.

Mabel listens to his tale with unusual silence. No interruptions, only nodding and frowning at certain points. Dipper guesses she’s still processing… a lot of things, probably. He’s not feeling on solid ground himself.

After he’s finished, she asks, “Do you think that’s why Bill invaded Earth?”

“What?” Dipper blinks. He was expecting… he doesn’t know. Maybe agreement on how evil and bizarre Bill is. Anger at what had happened to her. Not -

He sighs, again, and rubs at his eyes. “No, I don’t think Bill Cipher conquered the west coast just to date people.”

“Not to date people, Dipper,” Mabel insists. “To find his husband. Duh!”

“The dead one,” Dipper points out. “That guy. Who died.” He frowns. Maybe she’s not aware either… “Look, reincarnation-”

“Isn’t real. Everyone knows that.” Mabel rolls her eyes at his condescension, then beams as she delivers her retort. “But does Bill know that?”

Dipper starts to protest - but pauses.

That’s the same thought he had earlier. At the time he’d only been thinking about the pile of weird bullshit suddenly heaped on him, not the mystery of Bill Cipher’s motivations.

But. That would explain a lot. Not just his kidnapping and Bill’s bizarre behavior, but the greater scheme. One nobody’s ever found a real answer for.

“I… don’t think he does.” Dipper admits, after a brief hesitation. “He was really sure I was his husband when he saw me.” Which means rebirth is a thing somewhere. Maybe in his native dimension?

“‘Cause he’s pretty crazy, yeah.” Mabel agrees, though now she frowns. “But dunno. I kinda get it?” She shrugs, lifting her hands. “Losing someone you care about sucks.”

Yeah. Yeah, it sucks. It’s the worst.

Losing someone can drive you to desperate lengths, or send you on impossible journeys. Taking risks, inviting trouble. Hoping against hope. Dipper guesses he can’t point fingers, really.

The difference is Bill isn’t capable of caring about someone, ever. The closest emotion would be ‘possessiveness’ or ‘obsession’. Dipper might have argued even that was a stretch, if the paintings weren’t literally on the wall about it.

“Welp!” Mabel claps, bouncing over and sitting back on the bed. “Guess that explains that! One world-conquering mystery, solved.” She holds her hand up for a high five.

“Nope.” Dipper says. He shakes his head when Mabel starts to pout. “Look, if Bill was looking for someone, he would have mentioned it. He could have threatened the whole world to find his guy, or - or bribed people, or run a contest for best lookalike.” Or even leave his goddamn house once in a while, instead of making ‘collectables’. “It just doesn’t track.”

There’s a thousand things Bill could have done, since he apparently has absurd powers to go with his entirely absurd existence. A thousand spells he could have cast, a billion thaums of magic to throw around. And he spent it sulking on his throne, bothering decent people, and filling a side room with empty bottles. Not the behavior of a being on a mission.

Dipper’s known the guy for less than a day, but he’s certain about one thing.

Bill Cipher searching for someone? Would be obnoxious, violent and loud.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the whole story. But he did marry a human one time, right?” Mabel flaps a sweater sleeve, then points at the ceiling, and through it the x-shaped rift over the Fearamid. “I don’t think they have many out there.”

True; there aren’t. And It’s entirely possible Bill’s got a weird thing for humans; he wouldn’t be the first monster with that proclivity. Or the first to kidnap their intended, for that matter.

“Yeah, fair.” Dipper concedes. He plops down next to her, leaning over to rest his chin in his hands. “I just don’t see why the human spouse is me.”

“Hey,” Mabel says, in a softer tone. She punches him lightly on the side. “You’re a cool guy, Dipper. You could bag any demon you wanted! I mean, Bill’s totally into you already, and he’s their king.”

Oh god. ‘King’ is only a loose description, demons don’t have a monarchy. But the image it conjures fits right into shitty romance novel tropes, which means -

She’s got the wrong end of the stick.

“I don’t need a pep talk.” Dipper drags his hands down his face, praying for patience “Did you forget we’re talking about Bill Cipher?”

“Yeah, I guess he’s not the hottest. Big shape made of metal. All angles. Super flat.” Mabel says, counting the flaws on her fingers. She rubs her chin and frowns. “Hey, how’s your honeymoon supposed to work when he has no-”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

“What? He doesn’t wear pants, Dipper!” She insists, thumping a fist on her knee. “It’s the kind of thing you notice!”

“I wasn’t thinking of the honeymoon,” Dipper says through gritted teeth. Little sisters should not know what sex is, ever. “I was thinking, ‘How do I get out of this?’”

“Uh…” Mabel pauses, hand lifted - then lets it drop back into her lap. “Hm.”

“Yeah,” Dipper agrees. It’s a pretty tough question.

This was never going to be easy. They’re dealing with the biggest, most annoying, most powerful jackass on the planet - and he’s a particularly nitpicky flavor of supernatural to boot. They like their agreements in writing.

Without a deal, how does anyone convince a demon to do something?

Well, okay. Dipper’s done that. But only once or twice. Three times, max.

Manipulating demons is risky business, with coinflip odds at best. The few times he’s pulled it were to get the hell out of dodge, or to get their victims the hell out of dodge, and it was still a close thing. Demons can be stupid, and Dipper was lucky.

Unfortunately, his instincts tell him Bill Cipher’s a much older, smarter beast. He won’t fall for the ‘oh my god, what’s that behind you?’ trick. Though he would probably laugh.

“Hmmmmm,” Mabel continues. Her eyes narrow, and she taps her foot. “Hm, hm, hm, hm, hm.”

Uh oh. Dipper has a bad feeling about this. “What are you doing?”

“So we’re probably not getting out of here anytime soon. Right?”

“No,” Dipper admits, with some chagrin. They could still escape. It’s possible. But he needs time to come up with something, and right now he’s emptyhanded.

“And Bill’s probably not going to give up on marrying you, either.”

“No.” The word comes out like a tired sigh. Bill’s definitely, absolutely, 100% locked the hell in, with a certainty he’s rarely seen in demons.

“Then honestly?” Mabel shrugs, lifting her hands and tucking her chin in. “I’d play along.”

Dipper stares at his sister for a long moment.

She can’t be - oh, no, there’s that stubborn look, with the narrowed eyes and fists on her sides. She is serious.

He clears his throat. “Look, I know you read a lot of bad romance novels, but-”

“No, no, listen! Remember the field? The collection?” Mabel insists, waving at the window and the green view outside. “Dipper, he brought everyone back to life because you complained about it! They all got to go home!”

Dipper glances out the window at the empty field, then away again. “What does that have to do with-”

“Hey.” She takes him by the shoulders and shakes him. Her gaze is so intent Dipper doesn’t resist, lettering her rock him back and forth. “You wanna stop Bill from taking over the rest of the world?” Shaking harder, Dipper tries not to let his head snap around. “Then think about what happens if you tell him ‘no’!”

“That’s-”

Insane, Dipper was about to say. Impossible, too.

Only Bill is insane, impossibly so - and everything Mabel just said was correct.

With any other demon, this would be a stupid, impossible plan. But with a stupid being who’s already has shown he can be argued with… and he did free those people. He can be convinced.

It’s a totally bonkers, off-the-wall idea based mainly on vibes, and she’s still got a goddamn point.

“I know, it’s crazy. But Bill’s crazy, and you’re the only thing that’s ever stopped him,” Mabel says, mirroring his thoughts as she so often does. Her elbow nudges him in the side. “I thought you were the practical one, Dippin’ Dots.”

Shit. He is.

Dipper lets out a long, low, complaining groan, and flops back on the bed. Mabel pats him sympathetically on the arm.

Almost nothing thwarts Bill Cipher. There are too many demons in his thrall to fight, and his magic’s too strong to overcome. Nobody’s made a dent on that shining surface, and no bribe in the world, assault by force, or diplomatic approach has ever convinced him to relinquish bits of his collection. Much less all of it.

Until Dipper came along.

When you find the right angle of attack, you have to exploit it. You hit the big boss in his glowing weak point, or be defeated. This is the logical thing to do. The reasonable thing to do.

God, he hates being the practical one sometimes.

“Shit.” Dipper says, with deep feeling. Logic. Reasonability. And yet - He throws an arm over his eyes, and admits, “I don’t know how far I can take this.”

Even if it’s for a greater good. Even if he knew there was a higher purpose behind it and the whole thing was bullshit - Marrying someone like that feels… wrong. Because he’d know it was bullshit.

And Dipper can’t marry a demon at all. The concept’s insane.They’re only abstractly cool as a concept, nowhere near as cool in person, and Mr. King Nightmare Asshole is the single most annoying bastard of them all.

“Hey, maybe it doesn’t go anywhere! Like, maybe you call it off after he’s already sent all his demons back to the other dimension. Or maybe his real husband shows up to shout ‘I object’ at the wedding!” She clenches fists, as if wrapping htem around something, then thrusts forward. “Or maybe you stab him on your wedding night. Right in the eye!”

“What the hell, Mabel?” Dipper sits up, scandalized. Which isn’t fair of him, he knows; it’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “Since when do you want to kill people?”

“He did turn me into a statue, Dipper,” She says, unimpressed. Along with an eyeroll, for older brothers being so uptight. “I mean, it’d be one thing if you were actually dating. But since Bill’s being a creep…” She shrugs. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

There’s so much he’s gotta do.

He breathes in slowly, sitting up. The path is crystal clear in his head, what he needs to do. What he’ll have to do - though hopefully there are fewer landmines than he’s imagining.

And Mabel must catch the expression on his face, because she turns more serious.

“Wait, wait. You don’t have to, it was just an idea.” She pats him on the shoulder rapidly, trying to reassure.

“Well, obviously I’m not going to marry the guy. But leading him on?” Dipper rises from the bed. “I think I can do that.”

There’s an invulnerable boss monster, never before defeated, and Dipper has the only chance at the big, glowing weak point. He’d be stupid not to try.

“We could find another way out, though! Tell Bill he can forget it, no triangles allowed.” She stands up after him, matching his determination. Then, after a beat of thought. “Speaking of, I’m gonna make a sign for my door.”

“You should,” He says. Not that Bill will respect it, but. He shrugs, then sterns his shoulders, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel. “But if there’s a chance to save the world - then count me in.”

“Okay,” She says, sounding more skeptical than he’d like. Then she nods once, firmly. “And if Bill really is a creep to you, I’ll punch him right in the eye.”

Dipper can’t help but smile. He has his sister back, and she has his back. Despite everything else going on, this feels pretty great.

He pulls her in for a hug, and they pat each other’s backs while going ‘bwomp bwomp’. Classic. Man he missed this.

“It’s pretty gross, just so you know.” He says as he pulls away. At her confused look, he adds. “Punching Bill in the eye. It’s like a… warm, slimy stress ball.” Or a huge tapioca pearl, or - ugh, his knuckles still feel gross. Dipper wipes them on his shirt.

Mabel’s eyes widen, like he’s said something insane. She starts to speak, then stops, looking oddly thoughtful.

“You know what, Dipper?” She gives him a big thumbs up, and a smile. “I think you got this.”

With the Bill problem temporarily settled - or at least having a *plan* for it, that’s a huge relief - they spend the rest of the evening catching up. Not that Mabel has much to catch up with, having been frozen in stone. But chatting with her in general feels so novel, and fresh after so long without it.

He’s pacing the floor by the bed, trying to plot out the exact steps of convincing their demonic captor to do anything and wishing he had a whiteboard, when he stops. “Mabel?”

A soft snort is his response. Mabel’s fallen asleep. Half leaned on the headboard, one star-shaped plush clasped in her arms.

Guess being de-statued must have taken a lot out of her. And it’s - Dipper glances out the window - dark already? They must have been talking longer than he thought.

Well, it’s probably for the best. Mabel’s ‘slept’ for a year, but probably not slept. He hopes that’s normal, for being refleshified. That everyone else is okay, too. She seems fine, muttering in her sleep and rolling onto her side, so… he shrugs.

Honestly, he’s getting pretty exhausted himself. The day’s stress hasn’t just affected her; Dipper just carries it better.

And it’s not over yet. Not even a little.

He tosses the blanket with the least horrifying pattern on it over her, and goes to face his fate.

After shutting the door behind him, quietly as he can, Dipper pauses in the hallway.

Technically he doesn’t have to go to the room Bill brought him to. There’s at least two other directions in this hallway alone, and dozens more turns along the way. He’s not about to make a break for it, not without Mabel, but he could find somewhere else to hole up for the night. Just to stick it to Bill, the bastard.

Deep below his feet, a low quick beat of bass keeps drumming. The party must still be going; how long is it going to last?

Which means not only are there demons everywhere in the Fearamid. A lot of them are extremely drunk.

So. Take his chances with a horde of plastered demons, who barely have restraint in the first place - or with the obsessive madman who keeps wanting to wrap extendable arms around him? What a goddamn choice.

With a heavy sigh, he opens the door to ‘his’ room.

It swings open silently, the dark interior faintly lit on the opposite side by a flickering fireplace. The bottles have vanished, and the scent of recently sprayed air freshener lingers.

No sign of demonic activity, though. It’s eerily quiet.

Dipper steps in, shutting the door behind him. Guiding himself with a palm flat on the nearby wall, he bumps against a lightswitch and flips it.

The sudden light takes a second to adjust to. It takes a full three more to absorb the decor.

Wow. Okay. Mabel’s room might have been tailored for her, but those decorations are peanuts compared to the decadence of Dipper’s.

The dark walls, the gold inlay. The tapestries, the trinkets, the furniture made of heavy, expensive-looking wood. Dipper’s seen mansions online that would quaver at the subtle display of old, powerful wealth. Only the couch stands out as being not expensive as hell. It’s a slightly worn, cloth thing in dark blue that looks very soft. Near the feet, there are slight streaks in the carpet from where it looks like it was recently moved.

“Hello?” Dipper calls, checking the living room again. There are other doors, leading to other rooms in the suite, but they’re all closed. “Bill?”

Seconds pass. No response. He waits a little longer, but Bill doesn’t show. Even though he’s had plenty of time to pop up for a jumpscare.

And that’s good, really. Bill would probably give him a too-enthusiastic wave, saying something stupid and presumptuous like, ‘good to see ya!’ or ‘welcome home!’, or - just generally acting like Dipper’s not a stranger. An empty apartment is much more reasonable.

Stomping forward on the carpet, Dipper drops onto the couch with a ‘thump’, and crosses his arms. The soft cushions mold under him like it’s trying to absorb him. Which it better not, he’s already having a bad day. There would be repercussions.

Still… This isn’t the worst place to be trapped, He guesses. For all that it’s decadent, this place feels lived in. Cozy, almost. Unlike most mansions, there’s a sense that people actually went about their day-to-day lives here, once upon a time.

Dipper checks the room again - still empty. Very quiet. Almost too quiet, in a way that makes him fidget and keep glancing at the door. Waiting for someone to come through, almost upset that they don’t.

Funny. Just when Dipper thought he’d never be rid of that asshole, he vanished into thin air.

But - wait. Bill Cipher, dream demon, Nightmare King. Master of the mind. Technically his powers do let him vanish, into -

He couldn’t be -

Dipper’s hand flies to the side of his head, pressing the space between his temple and his ear. His gut twists in a rising wave of anxious nausea.

It feels like he’s the only one in his head. But how would he know? This is hardly his area of expertise, and nobody’s been in his brain before except himself. The only voice he can hear is his own, bouncing against the walls in increasing worry, but that’s hardly a sign when the monster could be in there with him and just keeping quiet, waiting to -

Wait a minute. Keeping quiet?

Dipper does a quick gut check - it hasn’t failed him yet, it better not fail him now - and lets out a deep, shuddering sigh. He slumps down a few inches in his seat, suddenly boneless.

Oh thank fuck. Bill’s not in his mind. No way, no how.

Because if he did get into Dipper’s brain, there’s zero chance in the world - in any world, in the entire universe - that he’d be able to shut up about it.

That leaves Dipper well and truly alone in this demonic penthouse suite. Nice and calm and empty.

So. Since Bill’s not going to make an appearance, Dipper should take advantage of it. It’s good. really. He doesn’t need his stupid hand held to figure out an apartment.

The most obvious door is the bedroom. Dark inside, with a fireplace unlit and several doors leading off it. One might be a closet, another might be a bathroom - which is honestly tempting - but since Dipper’s not about to investigate the biggest potential trap just yet, he shuts it and moves on.

Finding food ends up a little more fraught. The kitchen’s great, spotlessly clean with well-appointed cupboards - but scrounging in the fridge reveals something horrible and alive that Dipper has to kick back into its drawer, before slamming the door shut and holding it closed. He settles for a jar of peanut butter pretzels and makes a mental note to tell that asshole he missed part of the cleanup.

And there is another bathroom, not one off the master bedroom. Smaller and with only a shower, but enough to get himself sorted and wash off the fear-sweat in one of the briefest showers of his life.

Once that’s settled, there’s only one place left to explore. Perhaps the most dangerous place of all, considering the nature of his captor.

Dipper takes a deep breath, and ventures into the bedroom.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, then feels around until he switches on the light. Same as the rest of the place; opulent, indulgent, with a bed big enough to get lost in. The too-huge mattress is covered in smooth blue blankets that look soft and appealing, and that gives him the creeps.

All things considered, though. It’s oddly normal, for a bedroom in a nightmare realm. Sure, there’s an ominous tapestry woven with impossible patterns, too many trinkets with Bill himself emblazoned on them, and the fireplace lit up at the same time as the lights - but, like. It’s not riddled with blood or monster bile, and there’s only one portrait of Bill himself on the wall. It almost feels restrained.

In fact, it’s so restrained that Dipper almost doesn’t notice the photo.

Not because it’s not obvious. It’s in a frame on the bedside table, right there for anyone to see. He skims right over it at first glance.

Then realizes it’s not a photo of Bill, how weird that is, and does a double-take.

He picks up the photo, blowing dust off the frame. Frowning, he runs his thumb over the glass to wipe away old fingerprints.

Seeing another picture of Bill’s husband isn’t surprising. There are only a billion of them about.

But it’s weird seeing him older.

In the photo, Bill’s husband rests with his chin in his palm, eyes drifting shut as if near the verge of sleep. He sits slumped at a desk scattered with papers, covered with odd, cryptic notes. He has a few lines on his face, some grey hair, and a pair of big-lensed glasses perched precariously on the tip of the nose. A quick guess places him in… roughly late fifties? Early sixties?

Still the same guy, though. Age left its mark, but with a gentle touch that leaves the resemblance plain.

Dipper rubs at the bridge of his nose. At least he can count on aging gracefully. If any of that carries over; they’re still totally different people.

So. Another picture. Weird, definitely. Uncomfortable to look at, in a way he can’t place? Also definitely.

But Bill Cipher gets one - and only one - credit, and that’s for not being a creep. If he’s got a photo maybe thirty to forty years after those unsettling twink portraits, his weird attachment to his weirder husband lasted way longer than expected.

Which proves nothing vis-a-vis him not being a total kidnapping psycho, roping normal people into - whatever this is. It’s not - Dipper’s not - what is Bill even up to, anyway? None of this makes sense.

He’s about to slam the damn thing back down on the table when something catches his eye. Hesitating, he tilts the picture for a better look.

It was hard to tell at first glance, but on the second it’s obvious. Behind the husband, not covered by the desk, a black-gold pattern is just visible.

The carpet.

Which is a perfect match for the one in this apartment.

But the Fearamid only appeared after Bill invaded. Before that, it was in another dimension, a whole reality away from Earth. There’s no way it could - but if it’s not - and. Wait.

How did Bill’s husband get into the Fearamid before it slammed into northern California? Someone would have seen it if it manifested before in reality. Which reminds him of a question he had earlier, never fully answered: How’d this guy meet Bill in the first place?

Dipper sets the frame back down, carefully this time. Adjusts it to sit exactly the way he found it, in case Bill notices the difference - then he lets himself fall back on the bed and glares at the ceiling.

So many questions. Too few answers. It seems like that’s just how being around Bill operates. He might never know what’s going on, not truly. Hell, a whole lifetime isn’t enough to figure out that asshole’s secrets.

The thought makes Dipper feel like rolling himself up in these blankets and never coming out again. He tugs a corner of one over his lap in a huff. Then rolls onto the mattress, dragging the expanse of soft blanket around him..

For all the many, many faults of Bill Cipher, he made Dipper some excellent bedding. Mattress firm, but yielding. Blankets, comfy and warm. And Dipper himself is tired, having been put through enough mental and emotional wringers that he’s lost count of them.

He settles into the divot in the mattress, molded to his body like it was meant for him, and falls instantly asleep.

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

He isn’t sure what time he wakes, only that the morning light isn’t coming in through his window, and the rattling of his neighbor’s shitty air conditioner is thankfully absent.

His bed got an upgrade, though.

Dipper rolls over, kicking his feet against the luxurious sheets. The pillow stays cool against his face as he nuzzles into it, and the blankets are just right. He could easily lie here for another hour or so - and hell, why not?

Lazy morning is a go, then. He gropes around for his phone, before realizing it made its way under his arm during the night. Weird, he usually keeps it in his pocket or on the table.

Also, it’s really warm. Kind of like his forearm’s resting on a hot water bottle. Dipper shifts against it, trying to feel for the edges, but the solid smooth screen stretches from his elbow to his wrist. He pats his palm against the surface, fingertips trying to find purchase - and hears a chuckle.

“Gah!” Dipper yelps, sitting bolt upright. He tugs the blankets up his chest, heart pounding as he stares at this… asshole. “What the fuck, Bill.”

“Good morning, sapling!” Bill chimes in, lacking both hat and tie but with his eye curved in his usual smile. He rolls onto his side, propping his top angle up with one hand and tracing coy circles on the sheets with the other. “Sleep well? How were your dreams? Tell me all the deets!”

Unwilling to dignify that with a response, Dipper simply glares. As usual, Bill brightens at the sight.

Stupid. His phone got taken when he was captured. He should have realized something was off, or noticed it was way too big, or -

And shit, he can’t believe he fell asleep last night. Like, at all.

Dropping off that fast, in the fortress of a madman? Without staying up for hours, wracked with worry and insomnia? That’s a rare occasion even without all the bullshit going on, he must have been exhausted.

“Bill. What the hell are you doing in my bed?” He asks, instead of going on a tirade about ‘privacy’ or ‘personal space’. It wouldn’t have any effect.

“Hey! This ain’t just any part of the Fearamid. It’s the penthouse suite!” Bill sits up, legs crossing. He wags a chiding finger at Dipper’s face. “You’re invading my bed.”

…Shit. Damn it. Dipper makes a face, but doesn’t comment.

Welp, that explains that. This place was too good to be true, wasn’t it.

Mabel got a new bedroom to suit her, with total privacy - while Dipper got an invite to the ‘best’ accommodations available. And because from Bill’s perspective it’s a favor, he can’t even call it a dick move. Or at least, not an intentional one.

“It was the only bedroom,” Dipper points out. It’s stupid to be embarrassed, so he decides to be annoyed instead. “Or were you going to make your fiance sleep on the couch?”

“Fiance,” Bill says, with an odd, dreamy tone in his voice. His pupil widens as he stares off into the distance. “Now that’s a fun word.”

Fuck. Dipper slaps himself on the forehead. Why did he say that. Now he’s reinforced the damn delusion.

Which… technically he’s supposed to be doing, right. To lead Bill on. In theory, encouraging him, leading him deeper and deeper into an inevitable trap, might even save the world.

That’s the goal. The shining endpoint, the final part of the game. Dipper can see the possibilities in his mind’s eye, distant but - again, in theory - reachable.

Problem is, he can also see how the process is going to suck.

With a groan, Dipper rolls out from under the sheets and stomps towards the bathroom. Bill stays frozen in glimmering delight for a second, then snaps to attention and drifts after him.

“Hey, hey, don’t go! You're welcome in between my sheets anytime, kid! It's a real highlight of the day!”

“Yeah.” Dipper mumbles, “You would like that.” With the obsession and everything.

“Where you headed?” Bill’s voice comes from behind and to the left, a way-too-chatty shoulder devil. “A lazy morning lounging with your fiance would rule and you know it!” He adds, relishing the word he’s rediscovered.

“Nope.” Dipper states, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. He pulls open the bathroom door a bare fraction, trying to shimmy his way in without letting this guy follow. “Too busy.”

“Busy with what?” Bill’s arm wiggles in after him, and refuses to budge when Dipper tries to shut the door on it. God, shapeshifting is really annoying. “Stop running, idiot! Lemme in!” For crying out loud, why can’t this stupid demon take a hint -

He opens the door just enough to glare and state, “I have to pee,” before slamming it shut again.

Bill’s arm gets flattened between the door and the frame, waves once or twice, then slithers back out in a desultory manner. Dipper waits a full thirty seconds, listening for knocking or whining outside. When none comes, he finally lets himself relax.

Good. A little privacy. Better yet, he’s learned Bill won’t barge in just anywhere. Or at least, not anywhere, anytime.

Unfortunately, he can’t live in the bathroom. For one, he needs to eat and stuff, and for another he’s gotta check on Mabel and make sure she’s okay. Not to mention plan their escape, manipulate a monster and save the planet. There’s a lot on his list that can’t get done in the shower.

He pulls on his t-shirt after, distantly wondering if Bill can summon new clothes or something. This one’s seen a lot of wear over the last week - then pauses, cocking his head to one side.

There’s… whistling? A distant tune. Accompanied by clattering and a horrific bang, then laughter.

Great. Bill’s up to something. And there’s no way of knowing what unless…

Right. Dipper tugs his shirt the rest of the way down and sterns his shoulders.

There’s a plan in place. He’s got half a dozen key debate points, five theoretical ways to manipulate a demon, and three different conversational flowcharts cross-linked for possible insane tangents. He’s about as prepared as any one man can be, so. Might as well face the literal music.

And besides. He’s supposed to encourage the delusion, right? Bill’s… ‘Husband’ would probably want to find out what he was doing in the kitchen.

Which is… Cooking. Apparently.

“Heya,” Bill says, cheerfully waving with a third arm. The other flips something in a pan on the stovetop. “Thought I’d have to drag you out here! Way to spoil my fun, kid.”

His eye rolls back into its socket, and he sticks his tongue out. Dipper doesn’t flinch. He just shuts his own eyes, and tries to focus.

Weird. Everything’s going to be weird. He has to adjust to the weird, bring it in as part of his viewpoint, and let it roll off his back.

“What are you up to, Cipher.” Dipper asks, flat. He stays back from the table, and very far back from the flames on the stove and any extant knives.

“Breakfast.” Bill turns around, gesturing with an empty plate in Dipper’s direction. “Duh.”

That sounds… normal. Too normal.

Dipper narrows his eyes. “Because that’s not ominous at all.”

“Flatterer,” Bill says, smiling again. He drifts in, moving pans and dishes and food around with multiple arms, too fast for Dipper to track. “Ease up, sapling. You act like I’ve never had a human around my place before!”

The table’s set now. The food steams slightly, the dishes are way too fancy for the tiny kitchen table, and it’s… clearly an invitation to sit.

Dipper pulls the chair out. He steps in, sits down, and scoots in before Bill can get any funny ideas about pushing it for him. A good instinct, too; he’s pretty sure Bill almost darted in to do just that before he lost the chance.

That settled, he eyes the plate in front of him. The terrible, demonic concoction looks like… French toast. With powdered sugar. And slices of something identical to strawberry that might be a horrible trick. It smells sweet and buttery and - he makes a face as his traitorous stomach grows.

“Eat up, sapling! Use your logic,” Bill adds, while Dipper’s still struggling between his stomach and not accepting demonic gifts - “If I was gonna poison ya, I’d’ve done it before ditching my statue collection.”

Okay, that is a point. But -

“It could be revenge poisoning,” Dipper argues. He waves the fork in Bill’s direction before spearing it down into his breakfast. “I’d never suspect it after winning the statue argument.”

“Nah, easier to not need revenge in the first place.” Bill shakes slightly from side to side, like his whole shape is his head. “And you suspected it anyway! Pretty poor plan if you ask me.”

“Mmh,” Dipper mumbles, not quite agreeing, not quite arguing around his mouthful. He shuts his eyes, making a soft sound. Damn it, it’s good french toast. Who knew Bill knew how to cook?

Bill beams, leaning back in the air and watching Dipper chew, then swallow. “You like it, sapling?” At the responding nod, his eye narrows in sadistic delight. “Good! Enjoy the last moments before your skin starts melting off.”

Dipper freezes in place, fork halfway to his mouth. Glancing down, then up again at Bill.

Then he stuffs more toast in his mouth, swallows again, and says, ”Your jokes suck.”

“HA! I totally had you for a second!” Bill prods the air in Dipper’s direction with his own fork. “That look on your face! All, ‘oh no! What does skin melting feel like? Is it happening right now?’”

Dipper refuses to acknowledge that with a comment. It’d only encourage him.

Besides, he has better things to do. Eat, for one. And for another, watch the most terrible demon in the universe have breakfast.

Seeing Bill switch eye and mouth is hardly pleasant to watch, but also… kind of intriguing? What kind of biology situation does he have going on? Is there one? Can he see while he’s eating? Is this a subtle weakness? Dipper has so many questions.

Not that he has much time to ask them. His breakfast companion’s taking up plenty of talking space.

The topics Bill goes on about are both bizarre and somehow mundane; demonic gossip, gory stories, bad jokes. A distinct lack of threats or maiming. Their so-called ‘engagement’ doesn’t come up, other than Bill eyeing Dipper in a strange way. When Dipper responds, he always seems delighted, even when it’s needling him about some totally pedantic point.

It’s strange, and disconcerting, and deeply, deeply weird. But overall? Not that bad. Or at least considerably better than Dipper thought conversation with this creature would go. Nobody’s even exploded yet.

Dipper fiddles with another bite of french toast, gone slightly soggy from syrup.

While it’s nice to pretend that this is normal - like having a meal with a horrible demon-conquerer is no big deal, happens every day - he can’t just sit here forever. He has a goal, and can’t put it off. No matter how daunting it seems.

“Look,” He says, once there’s a gap long enough to break into the topic. “We need to talk.”

“Oooh, ominous.” Bill says, floating up out of the chair he wasn’t really sitting in to hover over the table. “I like it. Go on!”

“It’s about… our wedding.” Dipper starts awkwardly, cringing back an inch as Bill visibly brightens. “There’s something I want you to do first. It’s, uh.” He swallows. “Important?”

Shit, this is going badly already. That’s not what he was supposed to say! It didn’t come out right, he should have practiced this, damn it.

Dipper mentally fumbles for his debate points. Where was he going to start again? And why aren’t there any index cards in this stupid apartment, he could have written this down. Maybe he can recover if Bill says -

“You got it, kid.” Bill’s eye glimmers and he floats closer, knocking over the syrup bottle in the process. “Anything you want.”

Dipper stares.

Shit. That wasn’t in his flowcharts.

He prods at the last third of the french toast, ducking his head. God, Bill sounds eerily sincere. Like if he asked for a pony to ride in on, he’d get it. One that breathes fire and has a mane made of knives? Even better! Like Bill would hand over whatever he wished in an instant, or faster if he asked.

Wait, is this good? Or very very bad? Dipper isn’t sure. Only now he’s glad he didn’t have notes, because he’d have had to toss all of them already.

It’d be one thing if he was asking about, like. Changing the color scheme for the wedding. He’s certain he’d get it, possibly in the most over-the-top manner possible. Some minor detail before they dive into whatever hellish commitment Bill has in mind would be simple.

But what he wants - truly wants - is another matter entirely.

This idea felt like it might work yesterday, when he was at the stage of exhaustion where maniac energy took over. But now he’s facing with how patently insane it is. How it might not work at all.

But that sincere-sounding statement. The freed people, the empty field, and the way Bill’s looking at him right now, like -

Shit, if Mabel was actually onto something, she’ll never let him forget it.

Dipper sets down his fork with a deliberate clicking sound. He takes a deep breath, and plants his palms on the table.

Here goes nothing.

“Could you… not take over the planet.” He says, finally. “It kinda sucks.”

Bill blinks, several times. He looks away, then back again.

“Ah,” He says, finally. Also, not quite meeting Dipper’s eye, with a look of… not guilt exactly. But like someone with their hand in the cookie jar, about to explain how he just had to grab the baked goods. For reasons!

“Okay, okay. I get it. Worried about your fellow mortals, huh?” Bill continues. He reaches out as if to pinch Dipper’s cheek, a gesture barely dodged by quick thinking. “Easy, sapling, they’re mostly fine! We can lower the casualty count by-”

“Not just that. The whole thing sucks.” Dipper interrupts. He scoots his chair back an inch as Bill floats closer. “Seriously.”

“Hm,” Bill taps under his eye as he hums. “Well, relationships do gotta have a little compromise. And you are pretty cute…” The sentence trails off as his eye roves over Dipper again. “Hmmmmmmm.”

Dipper frowns, and waits for the inevitable assholery.

Bill’s not truly willing to give anything up. Sure he looks like he’s thinking about it, with the little tune and the rubbing under his eye - but the display is a show, and a condescending one at that.

The suspicion is proven right moments later as Bill pats his shoulder, eye-smiling again.

“But since you so insist, and because I’m such a generous, handsome, and amazing partner - you can have Idaho back.” Bill spreads his arms wide. “See? Compromise!”

Oh, for - c’mon, really?

Dipper scowls and drums his fingers on the table, trying to think.

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But Bill deliberately misinterpreting a pretty obvious statement - that’s just annoying. Like he was gonna fall for that show, or accept a tiny pittance. He’s young, not stupid.

Dealing with demons, right. The mistake was leaving any wiggle room at all.

“You’re only offering that because it’s boring. I meant the whole world, Bill.” He says, firmer this time. He meets that single, strange eye, glares, and sets his shoulders. “Get your stupid demons off my planet.”

After a beat of silence, Bill groans. “Ugh.” Then, louder and longer, running his hands down his front, eye rolling back until only the white shows. “Uuuughhhhhh.”

He goes on. For a while. Longer than he should, really - Dipper taps his fork on the table a few times, then just throws it at this jerk so he’ll shut up. It bounces off his surface with a ‘ting’.

“Jeez, pretty broad interpretation of ‘anything’! And pretty bold to call it your planet.” Bill rubs over his eye, like the very idea is giving him an angle ache. “And they call me arrogant! Do you have any idea how long it took the ol’ minions to make this much of an impact?”

“Around twenty years.” The first incursion was tiny, really. The next, a little bigger. It didn’t truly ramp up until about ten years ago - but by then the damage was very thoroughly done.

“Exactly!” Bill drops with a thump to stand on the table, fists on his sides. “That time investment’s nothing to sneeze at, sapling. You’re barely older than my conquest yourself!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not budging.” Dipper leans back in his seat, folding his arms. “You can either get the planet, or this stupid wedding. Not both.”

For the second time, Bill groans at an inhuman length, with inhuman annoyingness. The butter knife bouncing off him barely gets his attention.

“Okay, but listen,” He says, tapping his index fingers together.

“Hm.” Dipper narrows his eyes, and prepares himself to hear more absolute bullshit.

“Technically speaking, I only took over Oregon.” Bill says, like he’s laying the winning card on the table. He rests a hand on his front, eye shut in smug triumph. “Everything outside of that was henchman work.”

Dipper presses his face into his palms. Yep. Bullshit.

On the one hand, this is arguably going better than anyone could have imagined. Bill hasn’t rejected it outright. He’s arguing, but not denying. The request hasn’t been tossed off the table to rot.

On the other hand, Bill’s not giving up without a fight, and he’s old, and powerful, and stubborn as hell. Wresting any concessions from him is going to be like pulling teeth.

“They did it on your orders.” He points out, once his bullshit meter has recovered.

“What orders? I don’t have to tell ‘em how to rampage and ravage, they do that themselves!” Bill waves him off. “Look, your stupid planet got off easy. If you were really facing me in full world-consuming terms, there’d barely be one to stand on! Or maybe not at all!”

Dipper grimaces. The worst thing about that statement is it’s not wrong.

Bill loves to brag, to show off, to talk himself up - but on this point at least, he’s not exaggerating. The amount of energy he commands and the precision he wields it with is literally unmatched on Earth. If he had brought all that to bear. Turned his horrible eye upon the planet with real intent…

Nothing would stand in his way.

A cold trickle trails down his spine. He grips the edge of the table, trying not to grit his teeth.

Nothing, that is. Except Dipper.

Who almost forgot the monster - the threat - he was dealing with.

“I don’t care about the details.” He smacks the table before Bill can add another bullshit comment. “You know what I want. Stop trying to twist the subject.”

For a split second, Bill’s eye narrows. Then it returns to its jovial smile, rolling slightly as if Dipper’s being a petulant child. Like this is all nothing and stupid.

“Sure, we can talk about cleaning up a few states, but the whole thing? Pffft. So tedious! Who wants to pluck up every individual imp outta their lairs? Not me!”

Oh. So it’s too boring, is it. Bill could clean up the entire coast and more, he’s powerful enough, but he won’t because it kind of sucks? Because he’d have to put in some effort for once?

And yeah, he would think that, wouldn’t he. Because he only cares about himself. He only thinks about what he wants, takes what he wants, and what anyone else wants doesn’t matter.

“Someone has to-” Dipper insists, louder now to talk over Bill’s obnoxious voice.

“Someone, shmumone.” In a contest of volume, Bill wins every time. He even laughs, setting fists on his sides. “What do you care, anyway? Most of these idiots mean nothing to y-”

“Billions of lives isn’t nothing! It’s a whole planet! My planet!” At some point Dipper stood up from his seat, and now he slams his palms on the table, sending the dishes rattling. “You can’t just wipe them all out.”

What’s strange about his outburst is that Bill actually draws back. Floating off the table now, blinking at Dipper rapidly with his pupil narrowed. Like he didn’t expect the anger, or like he caught a glancing blow.

Fuck him, though. Dipper doesn’t give a shit. Heat is building in his chest, not just from the carelessness. Not just the callousness. But from how goddamn frustratingly, awfully stupid his -

“And - seriously, that’s your excuse? Really?” He says, disgusted. “That the biggest bad this side of the multiverse can’t get some lowlifes to obey him?”

“Easy, easy, sapling! No need to get fussy.” Bill pats the air in a calming motion, seemingly unaware it’s causing the exact opposite reaction. “I said it’d be annoying, not impossible. And that’s not even counting that I haven’t agreed yet. I took over fair and square!”

Yet. He said - That’s an opening, Dipper lunges to follow up.

“No, you didn’t. Like you said, the minions did most of the work.” He points directly at Bill’s eye, slightly disappointed when he doesn’t budge. “Can you pull your troops out or not?”

“‘Troops’ is a strong word, y’know? Demons and orders go together like oil and water, kid! Who’s to say-”

“You should say!” For fuck’s sake, Dipper doesn’t add. The avoidance, the shrugging off, how Bill’s totally not taking responsibility - He glares. “I already knew you couldn’t control yourself. Not controlling other demons is just pathetic.”

“Don’t talk to me about ‘control’. You don’t know what control is.” Oh, now he’s hit a nerve; Bill’s radiating heat, eye narrowed. His fists ball at his sides. “I’ve mastered control in ways you’d never believe! Your eyes’d pop right outta your skull!”

“Then your stupid conquest would look a lot less pathetic. You didn’t even get the whole continent? Really?” Dipper snaps. “All your power, all this time, and you’ve spent it on is frivolous bullshit. What the hell happened to you.”

“You wouldn’t say this crab if you knew what was good for you,” Bill hisses, low and furious. The quick return jab in Dipper’s direction has him cringing at his own flinch. “Sounds like someone forgot who he’s messing with! Oh, wait, you did! ‘cause you forgot everything!” Bill stomps hard, sending dishes clattering; a glass tumbles off and shatters on the floor. “You forgot me!”

“Good. I’d rather not know you at all.” Dipper snaps. Bill’s surface dims - weakness - and he rises to chase it. To hit this miserable asshole right where it hurts. “Maybe I’d rather die than put up with you.”

Sudden heat blasts through the air, hot as a furnace, as Bill’s surface turns a bright, furious red. Dipper flinches away, holding onto the table so he doesn’t fall.

…Okay. Turns out there’s a difference between making Bill angry, and making him angry.

Smoke rises from the table where Bill’s standing, little flames spluttering up besides his feet. The sclera of his eye has switched to black, the slit pupil and limbs solid gold, and the furious glare he levels in Dipper’s direction might literally melt another guy. The heat in the air already has him sweating. With the ambient magic, it feels like he’s breathing in soup.

Dipper eases back towards his seat, not wanting to make any sudden moves, and braces himself for impact. Or possibly, obliteration.

But surprisingly, Bill shuts his eye tight. He vibrates for a moment, then flickers briefly back to yellow. Then red again, in a strange strobing light.

“Fine. Who cares. I don’t need you.” Bill says, voice deep and strange. He folds his arms as his surface shifts in kaleidoscopic patterns. “I’ll find a human husband who’s not you! A better one! One with all the bells and whistles, the fleshy aspects in vogue these days, and the right attitude to boot! No more arguing. No more bitchiness. And way better fashion sense.” With that said, he sets triumphant fists on his sides, as if presenting the winning card. “How ‘bout THAT?”

Oh, he wouldn’t dare. Dipper seethes, ignoring the heat as he leans in to yell at Bill for saying such a stupid, awful -

Then he pauses, and shuts his own eyes for a moment.

No, that’s bullshit. Bill only said it to get under his skin, like an asshole. He knows better than to take the bait.

And there’s evidence otherwise. If he thinks that’s going to get a rise out of Dipper, he’s got another thing coming.

“You won’t.” Dipper says simply, and sits down. Folding his arms over his chest for good measure, and glaring.

“Don’t test me, fleshbag!” Bill stomps a foot on the table, the lines between his red bricks glowing yellow with heat. “I’m Bill goddamn Cipher, and I’ll do whatever I want.”

Dipper snorts. Yeah, he always does - Which is why his stupid threat is as empty as his soul.

“Then you would have done it already.” He says, and leaves it at that.

Bill raises a finger as if to protest - then drops it, fuming again, as whatever retort he’d plotted fails. He taps a foot on the table as he tries to think of a response.

Dipper knew it. Again, his instincts were right on point.

Bill didn’t need to wait for Dipper to come along. With his power, he could have found a hundred willing mortals anywhere. Or picked one off the street, for that matter; messed up their minds, altered their bodies, changed their face to this face - and he’d have a perfect replica within the hour.

Exactly what he claims he wanted, and precisely what he didn’t do.

“Don’t bullshit me, Bill. You don’t want anyone else,” Dipper says, calmer than he should be, certain that it’s right. He leans over the table, glaring. “Like, yeah. You could find or make another mortal, but that’s boring. You want the argument. You wanna win it. You want me to do this of my own free will, because you actually want this bullshit to be-”

Realization smacks Dipper in the forebrain before he can finish his sentence, and he shuts his mouth with a click.

Bill watches him silently. Fists still balled at his sides, surface flickering between red and yellow and white. Burning holes in the table, but not moving; like he’s waiting for Dipper to either pounce or flee, and either way he’s got a followup.

Slowly, Dipper sits back down in his seat, thoughts racing a mile a minute. Great, he’s gotta do a full review of his flowcharts. And most of his priors.

So Mabel was right. Deep down under that impenetrable exoskeleton, somewhere in the shriveled black soul - Bill cared about his mortal husband, in his own alien way.

Because he wants this, desperately, to be real.

A replacement would never work. If it could, he’d have tried it already. But Bill knows lies, inside and out, and fooling him is no easy endeavor. Buying or making someone would only remind him they weren't who he was looking for - and exactly how much that sucks.

They stare at each other over lukewarm syrup, shattered ceramic, and toeless scorchmarks seared into varnished wood.

Tapping his foot on the table, Bill glares, but doesn’t speak. The furious red still flashes on his surface, but it’s mostly gold again. And he’s not shouting anymore. Is he angry? Definitely. Plotting revenge? Possibly. But violence is, quite literally, not on the table, as he visibly wrangles his anger under control.

Dipper ducks his head to poke at his breakfast in silence. Bill starts pacing back and forth, making the remaining plates and glassware clink.

Looks like neither of them want to start up again. Dipper especially isn’t sure what to say. How could he say anything. How does anyone follow up on the most insane revelation of the last quarter-century? Asking about it is tempting, but he knows he’d never get an honest response.

That, and they only just stopped shouting at each other. Bringing that up would definitely kick things off.

This was almost a half-decent morning, too. Despite the kidnapping, and the company, and… well, everything about this awful situation.

But the worst part. The absolute worst part, of the entire situation Dipper’s wound up in, is that now he… kinda gets where Bill’s coming from.

It’s all about that jerk bastard’s face. His stupid, awful doppelganger.

Dipper rubs at his eyes, but it doesn’t help. Not when he can see Bill’s train of thought, clear as day. He could plot it out on a pinboard with only one piece of string.

Just like Mabel said: Losing someone you care about sucks. But seeing them again? In the flesh? When you never thought you’d get the chance, that they were gone forever? It totally rules.

There’s a huge, bright burst of excitement. Sheer relief that they’re there. Feeling nearly weightless, as grief gets shucked off like a heavy coat and left behind. Anyone could get suckered in by the rush.

Hell, what if the person Bill revived hadn’t actually been Mabel, just a girl who looked exactly like her? Would Dipper have believed they were different? Or would he convince himself that it couldn’t be a coincidence, she’d only forgotten who she was? That he could fix it?

And as loath as he is to admit it, Dipper looks exactly like Bill’s goddamn dead husband.

Thus proving he has the absolute worst luck in the universe.

Of course Bill thinks what he thinks. Who wouldn’t? The thought’s too tempting. The evidence, compromising. It might even be the sanest conclusion he’s ever come to.

There are many, many things Bill Cipher’s done wrong - but Dipper can’t blame him for wanting to hope.

He glances up from his plate, then back down again as Bill’s eye nearly meets his. Both of them avoiding the brief contact.

…Unlike the theoretical Mabel scenario, though, Dipper’s pretty sure he’d listen to reason. And he sure as hell wouldn’t kidnap anyone, much less make her sign, like, adoptive sibling papers or whatever. There are a million billion reasons to kick this demon’s ass.

But he has to live with this guy for… who knows how long. They can’t be at each other’s throats all the time. Making progress on world-saving will be hard enough without ending up flesh-based salsa.

Silence still hovers in the kitchen, tense and weird. The quiet is starting to put Dipper’s teeth on edge, almost more than a threat would.

The sheer level of awkward they have going on might kill an empathic entity. So why doesn’t Bill say something? Doesn’t he love the sound of his own voice? …Does Dipper have to -

Damn it.

“Thank you. For breakfast.” He says, long, long after it made sense to do so. The food’s cold, but he doesn’t dare ask for it to be warmed up. “It’s pretty good.”

Bill slowly turns toward him. He blinks twice.

Then he glows gold again, spreading his arms wide like the earlier conversation never even happened.

“No duh it is! I know you, sapling, better than anyone!” He floats closer, hands clasped and held next to his eye. “And you’re usually less whiny once you’re fed.”

Dipper pokes at his toast with his recovered fork. Thankfully it didn’t land on the floor, or get melted under Bill’s feet. “...I still don’t like the conquering.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bill heaves a long, tired sigh, eye rolling in a dramatic arc. “Always stubborn! Jeez, you’re even worse than last time.”

Last time? But that would mean - Dipper blinks. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t like the invasion, and I don’t like giving up what I’ve rightfully conquered. Oldest dilemma in the book! Only one solution there, sapling,” Bill steeples his fingers, gazing over them at Dipper. “We’ll have to… negotiate.”

He adds weight to the final word, like it’s somehow significant.

Dipper, not about to look a gift triangle in the mouth, simply nods once.

“Great!” Bill claps his hands together, rubbing them in ominous anticipation. “Plenty of time to get things sorted, then. Wedding planning’s gonna take a couple weeks at least! We’ll fit your stupid ‘protect the planet’ crap in the contract somewhere.”

“Sorry, contract?” Dipper sits up straighter. Nobody mentioned signing shit.

“Uh, hello? Bill Cipher here! You didn’t think ‘marriage’ was just gonna be rings and a kiss, didja?” He laughs, amused at Dipper ‘forgetting’ what was apparently obvious. “We gotta make a deal to seal the deal, duh.”

“Right,” Dipper says, after a moment. “I knew that.”

He’s kind of hitting himself for not thinking of it sooner. Deals get complex if they’re long-term things - and what’s longer term than ‘til death do they part? Another addition to the long, long list of reasons this will be a pain in the ass.

And no chance he’ll get everything he wants out of it. Not with the resistance Bill just put up. Even though Dipper knows better, the disappointment stings.

Guess the planet hasn’t seen the last of Bill Cipher. Maybe it never will.

But honestly, what was he thinking? That Bill would fold before his demands like wet tissue paper? That he’d win back the world in one fell swoop? Bringing the Nightmare King to the negotiating table at all is a triumph worth celebrating.

…friggin’ Idaho, though. Dipper can do way better than that.

“Between your stubborn ass and the main event, we got a lot of discussion ahead, kid.” Bill clasps his hands together, holding them by his eye. “Lucky for you, I got a few ideas already!”

With that said, he goes on. And on. And on. About freakin’ wedding planning.

About how finding contractors is already being a pain in the angles, a smattering about the decorations. Along with the guest list, and which interdimensional beings are disinvited forever, for reasons.

Dipper only half pays attention, nodding at the appropriate points. Now that they’re not arguing, he can actually finish his food.

So, he’s stuck here. Living with Bill Cipher. Listening to him bitch about finding the appropriate tailor for getting hitched to a human. Not exactly where he thought he’d be at this point in his life, or ever. But he thinks he can work with it.

Arguing with this creature about the world is going to be a struggle. It never won’t be. But it’s one he’ll survive, since Bill’s sort-of cooperating.

Let Bill shoulder the wedding stuff. He’s the only one enthusiastic about it anyway. Dipper has his own to work on - and with any luck, they’ll mean he’s far, far away before any of Bill’s come to fruition.

Now that the mood has lightened, Dipper even finds himself perking up a bit. Saving parts of the world is better than none of it. Plus the food’s pretty good. And best of all, his sister’s alive and staying right next door, a goal he’d never thought he’d achieve - and she’s ready to help him through the worst of this. Even Bill Cipher standing right in front of him can’t ruin-

Dipper pauses with his fork in mid-air. A chunk of french toast, soaked with syrup, lies directly in his view of Bill.

He looks up at the top point - no hat - scans down to the toeless feet. The toast on his fork hovers right below where the tie usually is, and slightly above the bottom side where Bill’s legs are. A drop of syrup slowly drips onto the plate.

“Bill.” He says, quick and clipped. “Question.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Are you naked?” Dipper asks, then leans forward, pointing his fork-toast at this asshole accusingly. “Have you been naked this entire time?”

“Maybe! Who’s asking?” Bill’s eye-smile somehow looks incredibly smug. “And for that matter, what’s the definition of ‘naked’ and ‘this entire time’? See-”

“Go put some clothes on.” Dipper states. Seeing Bill not moving, he reluctantly adds, “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got my own stuff to do anyway.” Bill floats up and off the table, drifting towards the doorway - then pauses, pointing both thumbs at himself. “Enjoy the sight, kid! I know you love to see me leave, but you really love to watch me go!”

And he drifts out of the room, shimmying his bottom side like - Dipper’s going to pretend he never saw that.

At least he’s gone. For the moment. Leaving Dipper to chew on his french toast and a bunch of new information.

One especially intriguing secret sticks in his head. Forget the demons for a second; Bill’s going to do the heavy lifting on that end. Forget the single bed issue, or the dire problem of upcoming matrimony.

The last guy argued with Bill about the world too.

Dipper didn’t expect that.

He’d kind of assumed anyone involved with Bill would be after what he could do for them. Power, money, fame. Those are all common human aphrodisiacs. With Bill, there’s also taking over countries, revenge on their enemies, and gleeful, gory slaughter.

But Bill said it himself, didn’t he? His dead husband was against conquering the world. That it was something they argued about, almost as bad as the nearly-deadly conversation minutes before.

Which… makes sense, doesn’t it. This is the first time Bill Cipher’s ever invaded this planet.

If his human husband had been into that, and helped him, it definitely would have happened when he was alive. Another mark on the ‘truth’ column for ‘not-evil husband’.

Hell, as far as Dipper can tell, Bill only started his conquest sometime after the guy passed away, when nobody was around to stop him. Which is also when he started moping around his Fearamid and spending too much time on collectables.

…If Dead Husband wasn’t into the conquering, Dipper doubts he would approve of the statue ‘collection’. And if he wasn’t into the ‘collection’, he’d be against the more showy forms of violence. Did they have anything in common?

Like, Dipper kinda gets why a human would marry a demon, even with the rest. Power’s still a thing. Money, too. Bill’s got knowledge in spades, an oddball sort of an indulgent streak, and despite being yelled at he never lashed out. Weird, definitely, but Dipper’s seen worse in ‘normal’ relationships.

… but what does Bill get out of this?

Dipper turns his hand over, staring at his palm. It doesn’t look or feel any different than before; Bill high-fiving it stung for an instant, but that was it. The ‘deal’, such as it was, was done, marking him magically in a strange, invisible way.

So he’s supposed to stop giving that creature the ‘cold shoulder’, whatever that means. Behave in a way more befitting a fiance, he supposes.

But despite their argument. The shouting, the swearing, the defiance he showed -

His palm hasn’t hurt even once.

#widower AU #Writing is hard and I am tired but despite june being insane I managed to write a thing #Time to eat ice cream it's hot outside

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popcornforone · 4 months ago

Text

Set In Motion

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

We’ve all seen the keep fit Sled picture & gone DAMN OUR MAN GOT IT GOING ON (I know some tummy lovers are gutted I’m sorry) but it helped to form an idea. Suddenly I had a small little idea for a fic in my mind…

It’s not longer small. I also hate self praise as a Brit, but I think this is the best writing I have ever done. I’ve sent snippets to people to read in advance without spoiling it for them & everyone single one of them has gone yep that Dieter.

Synopsis:- You have a new Celebrity client to take on at the Gym, it’s the over the top Drama queen, Dieter Bravo.

Word count:-(sorry I couldn’t stop writing) 9100

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! unprotected PIV sex, client & customer, no strong enemy’s to lovers but it will make sense why I’ve put that, swearing, innuendos, fantasy’s, controlling, being sick, angst, teasing, riding, tasting, Dieter is a bit of a sex pest that covers most aspects doesn’t it? Pain from gym.

Seriously thank you for reading. It means the world & I love doing it. Cheers peoples.

When they said that you had been requested to train a Hollywood “A Lister” you were excited. Your reputation proceeded you, & you had turned the rich & the poor for lazy lumps to fitness gods. Even if they didn’t want to be sculptured to perfection you helped everyone feel comfortable in the gym. You are the go to woman & you can’t wait to see who is going to walk through the door. You’ve been told they can be difficult & demanding, but that’s also a bit like you on your worst day. How bad can they be?

The day has come. They have requested their own room for the training, already wanting exclusivity, very demanding. You sigh as you get a few smaller pieces of equipment in there, as well as a weighted sled, incase they are someone from abroad who actually knows what they are doing. But you treat every person you train on their first day as a novice to it all the equipment, best to work out together what they wish to achieve.

10am they were meant to be here. They aren’t. You slowly do some small 2kg weights while on an exercise bike in the corner of the room. At 10:47 the doors fly open. There in a big coat with shades on & messy hair is Dieter Bravo. The pre-Madonna, the sulky demanding diva, he might be an Oscar winner but his reputation isn’t the best.

“I have no idea why I’m here” he states firmly throwing his scarf off his neck. “My agent says “Dieter hit the gym it will do you good” ha” you slowly look at him trying not to stare. He is a legend despite his attitude & he smell incredible even from a short distance away. “I have the metabolism of a jungle cat, I don’t need to be here” he scoffs & drops his bag & sit on a bench in the corner. “Just call my agent later, tell them that we did okay while I have a nap” you shake your head. He’s gonna be one of those ones.

“Mr Bravo” you say & get off the exercise bike. “This is a place of work & fun, you can either be your inner jungle cat & get on with this or I can ask security to help you leave” you stand a few meters in front of him arms crossed. If he’s gonna whine, you’re going to be stubborn as well.

“Are you challenging me?” He asks boldly. He behind his mirrored sun glasses looks your body up & down “& aren’t you a little to curved to be a personal trainer?” He thinks he’s being funny. If only he knew your story. You’re the reason people come to this gym. You were extremely large, & to now be the size you are with a few muscles is extraordinary. If he’s gonna make comments like that, you can play that game too. He might be a sexy actor but manners cost nothing.

“Well…” you glaze over his comment about your size “… if you’d have arrived on time we’d have gone through some of the smaller items in this room, but as your here extremely late, I want to see if those broad shoulders have got the power in them” you then step aside to reveal the sled. “Push it” you’re not asking.

“That?” He scoffs & finally takes his glasses & coat off. He’s got a grey tshirt on & some overly big hanging shorts. For him to look so casual probably cost more than you make a month. “That thing, surely is from the Middle Ages, it’s for cows to push, wha..”

“Then it should be fine for a springy jungle cat” you wink & then give him a brief demonstration as to what to do. You haven’t stacked it properly with weights it’s about half of what you can push. “So mr Bravo…”

“Dieter or diets…”he interrupted.

“Dieter, I need this down to that wall & back & I need you do to that 5 times.” He has a little grumble & gets up off the bench. Clearly he thought his work out was gonna be with an influence to softly train with, who would also be who he got to fuck for the next few weeks until they both got bored. You’re clearly not his usual type.

“This is barbaric” & that was a before he had even started. Grumbles left his mouth as he started his first of 5 rounds. His face already a beetroot, the sweat poring down his back.

“Keep going Dieter” you say deadpan as he heads off on his second push back down the room.

“Fuck” he moans. He gets back up to your part of the room & dramatically collapses on the floor fanning himself. The drama queen has arrived. “I need water. I need electrolytes. I need a moment to reflect on the fragility of existence.” He groans holding his ribs. That makes you laugh, but you do go get him a bottle of water. “Think that’s funny do you?” You nod, his charm starting to rub off on you a little. He then takes the lid off the bottle of water & pours it over his head. That tshirt now sticking to his front as well. “Well let’s just say I ain’t coming back to do anymore work outs in this trauma chamber you call a gym.”

You thought that would be it. You’d never see Dieter again, his sessions would be cancelled & that would be that. One nice pay day which would pay off the rest of your sofa. So you were shocked to see it still in the calendar & for him to turn back up 3 days later. You sat on the exercise bike once again patiently waiting for him. In he walked, only 39mins late this time. No big coat but a bag with some bits in it, the sun glasses were also removed straight away. Those handsome eyes radiating charisma.

“I owe you an apology, & you owe me one for putting me through that oxen cow sled thing, but my agent says I have to persevere, so can we start again” he says extending his hand. A peace offering. You look him up & down, still in celebrity gym gear not what he actually needs. You shake his hand.

“If we’re doing this Dieter we’re gonna do that “oxen cow thing “” you use quote marks he chuckles “… every session until you can push it up & down this room 5 times”

“& when I do that, I can leave?”

“You can leave or stop this whenever you want Dieter, your the one paying me”

“True” he says as he gets out a water bottle. Branded obviously with his face on it. “then let’s say how many days…” you laugh “…weeks…” you still smirk “… months? you think it’s gonna take me months to push that up & down this room 5 times?” He looks at you in disbelief.

“Yes Dieter I do & today we’re gonna work out how much weight actually needs to go on it”

“Are you like this to all your Hollywood clients?” He asks sipping some of his water & setting his phone up so he can get some good shots of him working out. You tut. You for a brief millisecond, forgot he was a celebrity, & thought it was just good banta.

“I’m like this to everyone Dieter, don’t think you’re special” he fakes looking offended, it’s far too over the top.

“Oooh but I am special, just you wait & see” you let out an exasperated sigh & begin to do your tests on Dieter. The session much like last time ends with the sled, & Dieter dramatically lying on the floor after just half a turn. The work out had done its job.

Dieter tested your patience for the first few sessions. Hollywood does go to peoples heads. He chucked a weight on the floor in a strop that was made of fibre glass & it smashed. He clicked his fingers for you to clean it up & you berated him, as this meant this room couldnt be used by anyone for the next 3 hours. His next session he came in with a cheque for $1000 to compensate the gym. His face genuinely apologetic, or was he just good at acting sorry. It’s hard to tell with those eyes.

When he was working out, he was still dramatic too, as well as late to every session, usually between 15 to 35mins late. You’d actually told him that for every 5mins he’s late youd add another weight to the sled.

You often had to stand there & watch as he made content for Instagram. Often his outfits would not be gym ready so the top could be torn off or so he could look sweaty in a v neck. It did get hard for you at times. The man was handsome & had charisma boiling over. You grew found of Dieter & his showing off for the camera & the man that you were slowly getting to know underneath the layer of fame.

“So you guys know I’m loving this fitness routine” you sit on the exercise bike peddling as he does this little video, you let him do one at the start & then if the vibes right at another point. “But today I’ve got this amazing protein shake before we start” you roll your eyes as Dieter explains to his viewers what’s in the green gunky drink & how it’s good for him & helping him. You know where this is going.

“Let’s chug!” He says excitedly & then takes some large gulps out of the drink. You can see him shudder. He puts his thumbs up to the camera & say quickly “yummy” before then turning it off quickly & then running to a Bucket & spewing it all out. You sit in the bike laughing as he gags. You do then remember he’s human, get off the bike & go to his bag & get his water bottle. He’s your client after all, he might get a poser but you’re learning he is genuine.

“You okay Dieter?”

“Of course I’m not” he splutters before swilling some water around & cleaning his mouth. “How the fuck do you guys a drink that”

“I don’t” he lifts his head from the bucket “some people do but it’s not my thing, also all those ingredients you said well…” you pull a face.

“Well what!”

“They don’t go together, I’m guessing you literally walk into a shop & asked for everything healthy in one drink?” He turns red & then starts to cough “yea next time go for some carrot or spinach juice or maybe a light fruit smoothie, I like strawberry & mango”

“Ewww” he pulls a face like a toddler who doesn’t like the broccoli you are giving it.

“Trust me start small not big”

There’s a nod of neutral respect between you as he sits in the floor, moving the bucket away. He flashes that wide grin at you, his eyes bigger & more brown today. It’s easy to fall for him, even without his charisma. You shake your head denying your own crush for him.

“Just tell me when your ready Dieter & we can get to todays work out.”Dieter sighed & got up ready for instructions.

A while later hes struggling through a bench press, muttering something about “the crushing weight of expectations,” & when he finally pushed the bar up, he looked at you, flushed, sweaty, panting just a little & smirked. His guard down as you set up the sled for the end of the session.

“I think I only keep coming back here because of you.”

You freeze, your brain just short-circuited. Dieter, of course, had no idea what he’d just done. He just sat up, shaking out his arms, oblivious to the fact that you were now actively fighting for your life, trying not to turn bright red. You forced a fake laugh.

“Right. Because you love working out so much.”

“Oh, I hate it,” he said cheerfully, swiping a towel over his face. “But you make it… tolerable. Pleasant, even.”

Pleasant. Pleasant! Bloody pleasant! You want to crawl into the changing room & hide but you also wished for more.

You had hoped Dieter hadn’t noticed your embarrassment, but he had. He was now going to have fun. your problem was that now you noticed everything about him. Like how he’d bite his lip when concentrating. How his t-shirts clung a little too well when they got damp. How he’d stare at you whenever you demonstrated an exercise, not in a “taking notes” way, but in a “please repeat that so I can keep watching” way.

Worst of all? The post-workout stretches.

One day, he sighed mid-stretch & said,

“You should stretch me out sometime.” You choked on your water. He blinked at you, all with innocent curiosity. “What?” Mischief spawns across his face.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, pretending to be very focused on adjusting a kettlebell. He tilted his head. In the adorable way he always does.

“You okay? You seem flustered.”

“I am not flustered.” You were extremely flustered & tried to get back on topic, but tension hung in the air, unspoken & ready to pop.

After that session with the sled he did 4 lengths, he wasn’t as dramatic in his collapse. Dieter was leaning against the wall, sweaty & smug. “You know, I think I’m finally starting to enjoy this,” he said, looking you up and down. “Or maybe I just enjoy you bossing me around.” You were dangerously close to losing it.

Then he smiled, lazy, teasing, too damn pretty & you snapped.

“Okay, that’s it for today, Shower. Now.”

He blinked. You hadn’t talked to him like that in weeks being snappy.

“Are you…”

“NOT WITH ME,” you shouted. “Just…go. Before I do something wildly unprofessional.” Dieter stared at you for a moment. Then, very slowly, his smirk returned.

“Oh,” he murmured, eyes flickering with dangerous amusement. “Interesting.”

You turned on your heel & left before you did something stupid. Like kiss him. Or murder him. Or both. Behind you, you heard him laugh. Low, delighted, victorious. You were so, so screwed.

This now made this hard for you but fun & games for Dieter who was loving every second.

You barely survived the rest of the weeks sessions. Because now, Dieter knew. He didn’t know exactly what he knew, but he knew something & that was very, very bad.

Every gym session after that was a nightmare of subtle provocations.

From asking if his hips were in the right position, to is this enough thrust to put into it, how low can he squat. But the worst day was the long v neck tshirt day, his nipples escaping constantly .You nearly threw a kettlebell at his head.

“Hey” he moaned when you said it was inappropriate to wear.

“You want to get burns on you nipples from the fabric be my guest” this just made Dieter do the session topless instead, you weren’t sure If this was better for the sake of his nipples or worse for your imagination.

The next session was an evening one, he’d been at a big celebrity event the day before, but still wanted to show he was committed to this. For a man who protested & hated this, he never missed a session, this time turning up 8mins late, his best time yet.

Dieter was finishing his cooldown stretches (which were still offensively sensual, by the way), & you were trying, to focus on literally anything other than the way he was sprawled on the mat, looking up at you with that goddamn smirk.

“You’ve been acting weird,” he said suddenly. You froze. Trying not to look panicked

“I have not been acting weird.” Dieter tilted his head the way you like.

“No? Because I swear you used to be a lot meaner to me.” You scoffed.

“You’re still infuriating.” He grinned.

“See, there’s the fire. I missed that.”

“Just finish stretching.”

You ignored the way your stomach did a stupid little flip. But Dieter didn’t move. He just watched you.

Then, too casually, he said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were into me.”

Heat shot up your spine, panic flashing across your face for exactly half a second before you caught yourself.

“I…” Dieter’s smirk widened.

“Oh my god.”

“No.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Dieter…” He sat up way too fast, eyes alight with mischief.

“You have a crush on me.” You wanted to die. You wanted to evaporate. You wanted to rewind time & punch Past You in the face for ever taking this job. But it was too late. Dieter Bravo was already basking in this newfound discovery, absolutely delighted.

“Wait, wait, this is incredible,” he continued, pressing a hand to his chest like this was the most exciting plot twist of his life. After all acting is his job, he’s got an Oscar for being a drama queen. “I mean, it makes sense. I’m devastatingly attractive. But you, you’ve been holding out on me! Teasing me!”

“You’re insufferable.” You are trying so hard not to smile. He gasped.

“& your moody & mean! God, no wonder I like you so much.”

Wait….

Wait, wait, wait.

“You…”You narrowed your eyes. Unsure if this is a game of his or not”….You like me?”

Dieter blinked. Then shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah. Duh.”

Dieter liked you?! Since when!? Since always? Since yesterday? Since he figured out you were suffering through a months of long crush while he pranced around half-naked, dripping in sweat & sin?

Because what the hell were you supposed to do with that information?

Meanwhile, Dieter was just grinning at you, clearly enjoying whatever internal crisis was flashing across your face.

“Oh, wow,” he mused. “You’re, like, really freaking out right now.”

“I am not freaking out.” He hummed. & then giggled.

“No, you totally are.”You groaned, pressing your palms to your temples.

“Can you just shut up for, like, ten seconds?”

Dieter considered it. Then, in true Dieter fashion, said:

“Nope.” He shrugs”I’m never speechless”.

You exhaled through your nose. This man was going to kill you.”So what now?” he asked, leaning forward, eyes way too bright with excitement. You huffed.

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?”

“I mean, what happens next? Do we pretend this didn’t happen? Do we have an extremely unprofessional makeout session in the locker room? Do I make you fall even harder for me through my sheer charm and magnetism?”

You gaped at him.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know, right?”

“I need to go.”

Dieter grinned. “Aw, you’re running away?”

“Yes.”

“Fair.” You turned on your heel & left him on the stretches Mat in the gym. Behind you, Dieter’s laughter followed you out the door.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, thinking about what happened & when you did fall asleep, he was in your dreams cradling your neck, his lips feeling soft, the moans he makes in exhaustion now in pleasure. You woke up sticky, sweaty & feral.

The next day, you found a smoothie waiting for you at the gym. On the lid, in messy handwriting:

“For my favorite coach. (Yes, I’m your favourite client. Don’t even try to lie.) - D”

You stared at it. It was not a Dieter day today, but he had sent you a strawberry & mango smoothie, your favourite. He’d remembered that comment a few weeks ago. There was even a little heart drawn on the note. You were so, so done for.

What started with the smoothie, Then became a coffee, then became proper gym clothes, less Instagram videos & Then shock horror, he started showing up early. The 10am start, he was arriving at 9:58. Which, for Dieter Bravo, was wildly out of character. This shook you to your core, he was a changed man from the dramatic drama queen jungle cat who came in a couple of months ago as a poser.

“You’re in a good mood,” you observed one morning as he strutted into the gym, suspiciously chipper.

“I have news.” He said in a cocky voice, but when isn’t he a little big arrogant.

“That can’t be good.” He ignored your little joke & continued, used to your wit by now.

“Guess who just got their own fitness show?”

You blinked shocked

“What?”

“It’s called Dieter Does It,” he said proudly, throwing his arms out like it was already an Emmy winning masterpiece. “A journey of strength, perseverance, & my absolutely flawless physique.” You stared at him. Dumbfounded but also proud.

“A fitness show. You?”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I know, it’s inspiring.”You were at a loss for words.

“Dieter,” you finally managed, “you hate working out.”

“Wrong,” he said, pointing at you. “I hate suffering. But I love attention. & people love watching hot, sweaty celebrities struggle. It’s a goldmine.”

“Oh my god.” you say sarcastically & roll your eyes, he laughs but continues to tell you his plan.”well congratulations”.

“Thanks” his hands are moving excitedly as he explains how live tv works, “I’ll be doing some light stuff each episode but then have different fitness masters from all over the world come in, trying different extreme workouts. Testing the limits of my body & soul.” He’s ever the charmer & professional rattling this off like he’s in an advert or a talk show promoting it. You dont need to be sold this, you’ve already brought into it.

“Do you even have limits?”

“Only one way to find out.” he raises an eyebrow.

“Please tell me you at least hired a real trainer for this. So that they can do the actual fitness & not some Hollywood wannabe”

He beamed.

“About that…” You immediately knew where this was going.

“No.”

“Yes.?”

“Nope.”

“Yes.!?”

“Dieter, absolutely not.”

“Come on, Coach. I need you.” He did the biggest pout & puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen from him. You opened your mouth, to tell him exactly where he could shove that idea, but then you registered his words.

I need you.

Not I need a trainer or coach. Not I need someone to keep me from breaking every bone in my body while trying to get ratings & an Emmy.

No.

He needed you. & just like that, your entire brain malfunctioned. Dieter noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything about you, from how moody you get when you should have your period, to the way you often stand by the window when it rains, enjoying its calmness. He notices everything about you. He’s been falling for you from the moment you called him a jungle cat back on that first day.

Now his smirk shifted. It wasn’t just teasing anymore, it was knowing.

He took a slow step forward, eyes darkening. “What’s wrong, Coach? Jungle Cat got your tongue?”

You hated him.You hated the way he invaded your space, the way he smelled too good, the way he was so damn smug about making you squirm. You should’ve walked away. Should’ve told him to get over himself. Should’ve done literally anything other than stand there, frozen, watching his mouth get closer.

Time then froze as you sighed your eye contact intense.

He kissed you. Hard. Messy. Desperate. It wasn’t smooth, wasn’t practiced, just pure, unfiltered want. Like he’d been waiting forever for this, like he couldn’t stand another second of teasing & near-misses & tension so thick it was suffocating. Almost as thick as that protein shake he despises.

You should’ve pushed him away. Instead, you fisted your hands onto his shirt & kissed him back. Your own wants & needs taking over. The pleasure of his mouth intoxicating.

Dieter groaned, pressing you against the nearest wall, one hand slipping to your waist, the other tangling in your hair like he was trying to memorize you. It was unfair how good he was at this. Hot & cocky & utterly unhinged. This wasn’t a kiss an actor gives, this was a Dieter Bravo kiss.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Told you, you liked me.” You yanked him back in. Not caring about your own rules for just a few seconds more. Another taste was needed. You both know you’ll never be satisfied again.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, wrecked, still gripping each other like gravity didn’t exist. Dieter laughed Softly. Neither of you on guard, both vulnerable wondering if there should be another kiss. Soft. Disbelieving. So, so satisfied.

Then, still grinning, he pressed one last, lazy kiss to your lips and said,

“So… I’ll see you on set?”

He then left having not done work out today, maybe the kiss was enough. You also hadn’t given him an answer. Your mind spiralling out of control. Dieter was offering you more than just a tv role or was he?

You spent the next three days losing your mind. Three days replaying the kiss in your head. Three days avoiding thinking about Dieter Bravo like your life depended on it & It wasn’t easy. Not when he kept texting you.

“Morning, Coach. Dream of me?”

“Can we make out again or do I have to earn it?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I love a challenge.”

These were just some of the messages you received.

You almost caved. Almost let yourself be swept up in the chaos that was Dieter Bravo with a crush. But you knew better. You were a professional. You knew you had to have this out with him face to face.

Wednesday arrived. You got to the gym room & set it up, putting the weights on the sled, your heart & would feeling heavier then them. Dieter arrived at 9:59, in the correct gym gear, no flashy dramatics, simply the man ready for a work out. A far cry from the jungle cat who came bouncing into your life. He was completely unaware that his world was about to collapse.

He was sprawled on a bench, pretending to do some stretches but mostly just watching you approach with that lazy, lovesick grin.

“You look stressed,” he mused. “Need me to kiss it better?” You ignored the full-body shiver that caused & inhaled sharply. The words you had practiced fall from your mouth bluntly.

“I’m quitting.”

Silence.

For the first time ever Dieter didn’t have a quip to respond back to you with.

“Wait, what?” He looked up & did a double take in disbelief. You squared your shoulders.

“I’m leaving the gym. I can’t train you anymore. I…”You swallowed. “I crossed a line with a client.” Dieter’s face dropped.

“Are you…” He actually sat up, alarmed. “Are you serious?” You nodded, hating every second of this.

“I can’t do this,” you said softly. “It’s unprofessional. Because if…if I stay…”

You didn’t finish. Because if you stayed, you knew exactly what would happen. Dieter would keep pulling you in, keep teasing, keep making you melt with those damn soft, needy looks, before long, you’d be just another person who lost themselves in the madness of Dieter Bravo. You also knew Dieter now. You couldn’t let that happen. He’s not a relationship man, he’d get what he wanted & then no longer be interested in you. You’ve met these kind of guys before.

Dieter stared at you for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, no cocky smirk, no mischief, just… something raw. Then, in a completely normal & rational response, he said:

“Marry me.”

You nearly choked on air. Tension filled the gym.

“…What?” Dieter shrugged, like this wasn’t the single most deranged thing he’d ever said.

“Marry me. Then I won’t be your client anymore.”

You stared at him, fully convinced you were hallucinating.

“Dieter…” your speechless.

“I’m serious.” He stood, way too close, voice way too honest vulnerable & soft. “You think you need to leave because we crossed a line. So let’s make a new one. One where it’s not a problem.”

“Dieter, that’s not how this works…”

Your brain scrambling for a logical answer, while your heart was pumping going this is so romantic & your labido was going, everyone’s seen the sex tape he’s got a massive penis. You shake your head as your body tells you lots of yes’ & nos to this predicament. None of your 12 practiced conversation last night with the mirror that you constructed, had seen anything as wild as this coming. But that’s Dieter for you.

“Why not?” He was so goddamn serious. “You like me.”

You exhaled sharply. “That’s not the point…”

“You like me,” he repeated, almost smug.

You groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

“& I like you,” he went on, tilting his head, you wish he wouldn’t because it arouses you that cute little look. “A lot, actually. More than I’ve liked someone in a long time. Which is so annoying, by the way.” You refused to react to that. You’re still processing.

“Dieter…” you sigh but he interrupts again.

“I don’t want you to go.” His voice dipped, genuine now. “So don’t.”You shook your head, trying so hard not to let him get to you.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

Dieter just grinned. “That’s why it’s perfect.”

You groaned. You needed to leave, To stop you both from Doing something you would regret. Dieter could sense this might be his last chance,he grabbed your wrist.

“Coach.”the charming voice was softer now.

When you glanced back, his expression wasn’t teasing anymore. Wasn’t cocky or smug or anything remotely expected. It was real.” Stay,” he murmured. “Please.” He really was pleading. When he does this it’s so hard to say no to him, even if you didn’t have feelings for him.

You stared at him. At his stupid, earnest, handsome, carved by the gods face. At the impossible words hanging in the air between you.

“Marry me?”he asked once more. This wasn’t a game he wanted to play, this was real. But being a realist you know life isn’t that simple. your entire world has just tilted on its axis.

You took a deep breath.

“Dieter…I”

“No,” he cut in, eyes locked onto yours. “Don’t ‘Dieter’ me. Just say yes.”

Your heart ached, because god, you wanted to.But this was Dieter Bravo. The human embodiment of chaos. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. However this moment you are pretty sure is the most serious he’s ever been in his life & yet it’s still been spontaneous. So you forced yourself to shake your head, step back, build the wall back up.

“I can’t.”

His face fell. for a split second, you saw it, the flash of real hurt before he masked it with a forced smirk.

“Right. Okay.” His face dropped. He’s taking some deep breaths, he’s trying to contemplate everything that’s happened in the last 5minutes.

You hesitated. You Hated every second of this.

“Dieter, I…”

“Go,” he said bluntly clearly done with you.

You hesitated a second longer, waiting but for what, you didn’t know. But Dieter didn’t stop you. So you turned, heart shattering, & walked away. Leaving Dieter alone in his gym room. You went to your boss & told them the situation. They didn’t fire you or accept your resignation. But you asked to go on extended leave which they granted. As you got to your car you got a message from another trainer.

“I don’t know where your at or what happened, but Dieter Bravo is pushing your sled up & down the room like it’s not heavy, he’s done it 5 times” you sit in the drivers seat & cry. Your Dieter, even when you’re not there & you know you won’t be seeing him again, & who you will no longer be instructing, did it. The jungle cat completed his mission. He proved he could do it. You wait to stop crying before you put the car into drive & head back home, despite every part of your screaming at you saying “text him because your proud of him” but you ignore all the signs.

Dieter Bravo did not get rejected. He was hot, rich, & famous. That’s what he kept telling himself as he pushed that sled up & down. When he did his fifth rotation he was over the moon, but there was no you to be there to hug him. To say it all paid off, to be proud of him. He took the selfie but the smile was fake. He hoped you would see it on Instagram at some point but you never liked or commented on the photo even though he tagged you & the gym in it.

Dieter was down in the dumps & couldn’t get his head straight. Which is why, two weeks later, when his pilot taping started, he was in the worst mood of his entire life. He shouldn’t care that you left. Shouldn’t care that the gym felt empty without you, that his workouts sucked now, that he kept checking his phone for texts that weren’t coming.

He was fine. Completely fine.(He was not fine.) & now he had to do this stupid show, in front of a live audience, try to pretend he wasn’t a little bit heartbroken. Put that Dieter Bravo charm on that the word adored. The charm that you found tedious, that then got another rise out of him. No matter who his agent had brought in to be the profession, it wasn’t going to be you.

You couldn’t avoid it. Billboards were all over town with Dieter in an over the top gym outfit advertising his show. They wanted people in the audience for the pilot. Professional from the world of fitness to see how it was going, were asked to come. You weren’t supposed to be here. You’d walked away. Made a clean break.But you also wanted to make sure he was okay, you wanted to be proud of him.

So you went to the pilot. But then you saw him. Saw him failing spectacularly on stage. It was a disaster. The cameras were rolling, the audience was watching, Dieter, Hollywood’s most shameless, over-the-top narcissist, your jungle cat was crashing & burning. He was rambling. Stalling. Making jokes that weren’t landing. & then he just… stopped. For one awful second, he stood there, completely lost. Thats when you knew. You knew that, for all his bravado, he needed you. He needed the spark, & the fire be it from genuine banta or punishment for being a drama queen. He was a man broken.

You Slipped past security, ducked backstage, & found him pacing like a man on the verge of losing it. This jungle cat was no longer pouncing & was wounded.

“Dieter.”

He whirled around in a heavy daze. when he saw you, when he realized you were actually there, his whole body froze.

“You came,” he breathed. “you actually came” his lip trembles. He’s trying to be calm but he just wants to embrace you.

You swallowed. “You looked like you needed help.” Time to admit that you were wrong. He let out a weak laugh, rubbing his face.

“That bad, huh?”You hesitated. Then, because you were already screwed, you stepped closer & murmured,

“Do you want me to stay?” Dieter lifted his head, eyes locking onto yours. The smirk & the dazel oozed back into him slowly, he grinned, stepped right into your space, & whispered,

“Only if you marry me.”

You groaned. You rolled your eyes & then pulled him in for a kiss. His breath was warm against your skin as he went to kiss your neck. He dragged you to his changing room. you should have stopped this But you instigated this. This was your choice to give into the sexiest man in Hollywood. You’d opened the door for pleasure to him & he then made sure his changing room door was locked.

Dieter groaned, like he’d been waiting forever for this, like he hadn’t spent the last couple of weeks spiralling over you. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up your back, holding you so close it hurt. The kiss was desperate, all tongue, all teeth, all frustration & relief & pent-up insanity. You were hungry as well for this. Your feelings & emotions all now on show & when you bit his lip, Dieter purred & swore.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down your jaw, nipping, sucking, ruining you.You gasped, tilting your head back, letting him. Letting him take. Letting him have you.

“Say it,” he murmured, hands slipping under your shirt, skimming hot over bare skin. “Say you missed me.”You refused. So Dieter pinned you against the wall. Pressed a thigh between your legs. Made you feel him. How’s that even gonna fit you think as you moan, feeling his erection push against you.You whined & He grinned. he kissed you harder, deeper, filthier, like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else. Like he already knew he had. You were going to let him.

Dieter felt everything. Your body pressed against his. The way your nails dug into his shoulders. The way you gasped into his mouth when he rolled his hips just right. He was already addicted.

“You wanna keep pretending?” he rasped, dragging his lips down your throat. “Wanna act like you don’t want this?” You whimpered. Dieter, smug bastard that he was, grinned against your skin. “i could ruin you,” he murmured, hands wandering lower. “Right here. Right now.”Your breath hitched, & just to destroy what little resolve you had left, Dieter sucked a bruise onto the sensitive spot beneath your ear. You melted. No longer even pretending to be off with him.

“Fuck,” you whispered. His fingers dug into your hips.

“Yeah?” he taunted. “You like that, coach ?” You didn’t answer. Didn’t have the oxygen to. Because he did it again. Harder. Hungrier. Dieter was losing it.

Before you knew it Your breathless, pressing into him like you were about to make the biggest mistake of your life & frankly, he was willing to let you.

“But first, clothes.” He chuckles

Or rather, the removal of them. You mind thinks.

His hands slipped under your dress, skimming hot over your stomach before gripping the hem & peeling it off. His hands almost claws thrashing at it.

The sound you made? The little moan you do… it Ruined him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, staring. “You’re gonna kill me.” & then he was back on you. Mouth trailing lower. Hands gripping your waist. Thumbs teasing just beneath the waistband of your leggings. He could feel you trembling.

“You’re shaking,” he teased, voice dark, teasing. “You nervous, sweetheart?”

You exhaled sharply.

“Shut up Dieter” it’s breathy.He grinned & then he took his time.Hooked his fingers into the waistband of your leggings & dragged them down, slowly & delicately with his large hands.Savouring . Exploring.

By the time they hit the floor, you were wrecked. Dieter was looking at you like he was about to skip the warm-up & go straight to the main event.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Look at you.”

Your hands shot out, desperate now, reaching for the hem of his fitted gym shirt.

“Off,” you muttered. “Now.”Dieter laughed, letting you pull it over his head. fuck he was looking fine, he was well built now youd had your sessions with him .So solid beneath your palms.You ran your hands down his chest, across his stomach, feeling every inch of him.

You gulped & then. finally, your fingers dipped to the waistband of his joggers.Dieter’s breath hitched.He smirked. He knew what was coming. He knew you’d be begging for it his eyes as frenzy as he tussled his hair

“You watching?” He asked seductively.

you nodded, silent, transfixed, dying for it…He slid the joggers down…

Nice & slow…

Letting you see everything.

He’s commando & semi hard, you lick your lips & your delicate hand goes straight for his long shaft. Ecstasy leaves his mouth. Just your touch on his chest had sent his mind into a whirlwind. But now your stroking his penis so leisurely, like it was meant to happen, had him experience a release that had been building for months.

“Fuck coach” he groans “you give all your clients hand jobs?” You tut.

“Shut it Dieter or I won’t let you fuck me” his eyes snap open wide.

“Naughty girl with a dirty mouth” the way he licks his lips as he says this, his hips already wanting to buckle.

“Bet you’d like that” you reply before kissing the crook of his neck. He judders. So alive, so for-filled. But then he snaps out of it & takes your hand.

“We’re a team coach” he whines. His large hands Then attend to removing your bra. Undoing the clip in one go, you let it fall from you. Your nipples erect in the cold changing room instantly.”oooh baby come to papi” he says before his lips locks around your left nipple. His hand inside your panties. You whine feeling his pleasure. You knew those fingers would be trained well as they assault your clit. Of course he knew how to pleasure. He’s the man everyone dreams of enjoying, especially after that sex tape.

“Fuck Dieter” you can’t control your moans. It’s a passion filled assault & you want more. You push Dieter back & his legs hit against a bench. One similar to the one in your work out room where you have been training him. He smirks.

“The number of times I’ve gone home after each session of our banta & teasing & imagined you sitting in my lap bouncing on my penis & not one of those aerobic balls, let’s just say I’ve cracked a few out”

“Dieter!” You pretend to sound shocked but this is Dieter his reputation proceeds him. Now your looking at him naked & aroused you can imagine him, crying your name as he jerks off in the shower, soapy water & cum dripping down the drain.He probably would also think that about his Mail man. You put your hands on his shoulders pushing him so he sits on the bench.

“Tell me Dieter in your fantasy, am I wearing panties, or are we both natural?”

“NAKED!” He screeches. You then stand in front of him & slowly roll your black lace panties all the way down, “slower baby I want to see every single inch.” He’s being demanding but you don’t think you can go slower. Eventually you stand in front of him exposed. “This is my fantasy right?”

“I think you’ve earnt it” you say & part your legs. The feel of his index finger collecting your arousal, makes you grab onto his shoulder. A simple brush across your sex have your quaking & almost begging. “Oooh fuck”

“Fucking delicious”he then slowly sucks off your slick from his index finger & then he lies on the bench. Those large hands you’ve been dreaming of touching you for a while no matter how much you denied your crush on him, now look small as they attend to his erection.

“Standard or reverse?”

“Standard coach, I want to see the look in your eyes as you cum cos you’ve never been as satisfied as this” you straddle over him, your hand joining his stroking it. It’s sticky from Precum. You slowly guide the tip in & gasp.

“Ooh fuck”

“Okay darling?” It’s genuine concern, you’ve not had sex in a while & never anyone this girthy. Your trying not to moan to much already you like being vocal when you have sex. The pinch is going to be worth it.

“Give me a minute Diets” you’ve never called him Diets his eyes light up.

“I gotcha baby, let me coach you through it” you raise an eye brow at him before sinking lower. Each centimetre feeling exquisite, you slowly take him all in. You bottom out.

“Oooh fuck, oooh my fucking god” he looks at you proudly, he can feel you squeezing him already.

“Oooh fuck, what a tight little cunt” HE snarls & then his hips buckle his first strong thrust. Your toes curl.

“Fuck”

“Ooh fuck baby, why didn’t you tell me you had the tightest cunt, you need better sex” another thrust. Your eyes close. “I’m gonna give it to you for as long as you can take it”Your hips start to gyrate & soon your grinding around him slow but then hard once your rhythms match. Fuck seems to be the only word in your vocabulary other than moans. Sweat is the only thing you tastes as you bounce, each time taking him all the way. Each time your on edge. Your hand strumming as he holds you in place. Dieter is a sex pest as perceived by the rest of the world, & he is getting pleasure from this no doubt about it, but this is all about you. Watching your face as it makes the most adorable scrunches, seeing your eyes ignite each time he edges you close. Arching your whole body dripping with sweat covering him, your hair sticking to you. But he is most impressed with your sex. He’s always liked to look intently but there’s something so hypnotic about the way you’re rolling your self & grinding around him, how he can feel like he can thrust any further inside you.

“Look at you coach” he moans his fingers white digging into your flesh trying to delay his orgasm do you cum first. “All our hard work & tension has built up to this”

“Yesss oooh fuck Yesss” your on edge it’s about to happen.

“Come on baby” he thrusts & rolls harder, almost at a lightning speed he know this should set you off. “I know you want to baby, give in let go, live your dream”

“Fuck Dieter….!!!!!!!!! YESSSSSS!!!!” You didn’t need a motivational pep talk to make you cum, it was gonna happen but as you screamed his name you experienced the most intense orgasm of your life. It felt like your body was contracting all into one little box & then exploding across the room like confetti at a gender reveal for one of those tiktok couples. You didn’t care as you moaned all the way through it. “Fuck yes yes yes yes yes oooh fuck” Dieter joined you moments later, after he put his last few frantic thrusts in. You’d not used a condom. He filled you up, good & proper, as you slumped over him as he panted. Those large hands rubbing your back soothingly. The room fell silent, probably the longest you’ve kept Dieter quiet since you met him. Just hot sticky sex & breath filled the air. Both spent, both throughly worked out. Your naked body melting into one

“Next time” he eventually breaks the silence “we do that & not the sled”

“Dieter” you sit up & playfully hit him.

“What” he says looking smug, the smug grin you’ve grown to worship. “We burnt more calories there then pushing that bastard thing up & down” he then sits up & removes a stray hair from your face. You blush, this will never just be you as a coach & Dieter as a trainee again.

“So now what?” You ask. He gently put his thumb on your chin & looks you deeply in the eye. Those brown eyes still as handsome as ever.

“Well you never answered my question”

“Ask me tomorrow?”…

2 & a half years later

The gym looked exactly the same. Same equipment. Same smell of sweat & same bench. You’re still the personal trainer desperately trying to keep your biggest headache from breaking himself. Still being a drama queen from time to time, still occasionally turning up late, still being a menace & far too flirty for his own good.

The only difference? You were sitting on the floor with your daughter. Your tiny, curly-haired, dimpled, annoyingly perfect daughter, who was currently watching her father push a sled across the gym like it owed him money.

Dieter was grunting, cursing under his breath, sweating through his stupid expensive workout gear. You laugh each time he swore so she couldn’t hear it. But traditions stated that if he came to work out with you even after all this time that he still pushed the sled.

& yet despite the pain in his now older body, when he looked over & saw you both watching, he smiled. His little world all together cheering him on.

“You impressed, sweetheart?” he panted, shoving the sled forward again. You rolled your eyes. It’s corney but it’s typically Dieter.

“Not even a little.”

But your daughter? She clapped her tiny hands.

“Yay, Daddy!” Dieter’s entire face lit up. It did this every time she was happy.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he gasped, pushing harder now, fueled entirely by his toddlers encouragement. Up & down he went,Five times. when he “finally finished the torturous monstrosity” as he still called it, sweaty, winded, hands on his knees, pretending he wasn’t seconds from collapsing, like he used to back in the day, He did a little dance. Those hips still have what it takes as he rolled them suggestively. You covered Your daughter eyes but didn’t stop her as she giggled & clapped again. He can use that move on you tonight, you like it when his hips grind against you. You like it even more when he hits the spot every time. since you’ve been a couple the only days you’ve not had sex were at the end of your pregnancy & beginning of motherhood. Turns out you are both addicted to each others bodies, intoxicated by desire & a lust that couldn’t be quenched.

“Daddy so strong!” She said. Dieter grinned, coming over to you both & scooping her up despite being an exhausted mess. Winking at you in the process. You blushed, almost as red in the face as he was from his work out.

“Damn right I am,” he panted, pressing loud, smacking kisses all over her chubby cheeks. She squealed, giggling uncontrollably.You watched them. Dieter is the best dad in the world, he will do anything for her & for you. You sit there proudly as he spins around with here & she laughs. that’s when Dieter’s eyes flickered to your hand.

To the ring on your finger. The one you still hadn’t let him upgrade to a wedding band. His smirk returned.

“You gonna marry me yet?” he asked, cheek pressed against your daughter’s curls.

You exhaled.

“Ask me tomorrow.” Dieter groaned but he was used to that response now . Your daughter, meanwhile, clapped again, no clue what was going on, just enjoying the chaos. Clearly a Bravo. He kissed her cheek again, grinning.

“She’s gonna say yes eventually, kid,” he muttered. “She’s just making me suffer first.”

You snorted. Dieter winked. Somethings between you will never change. & when your daughter clapped for him one more time, Dieter melted completely.Yeah. He could suffer a little longer.

This happened each time Dieter came to the gym, it was your new normal & you wouldn’t have it any other way.

One afternoon a few weeks later after an Intense session (& leaving your girl with someone else so you could both get intimate in the showers, as you were both really in the mood plus your were ovulating after telling Dieter you wanted another baby) your family leaves the gym, clean showered & refreshed. Your daughter was half-asleep in his arms, cheek smushed against his shoulder, her tiny fists still curled around the collar of his shirt.

You were about to do something insane. Something you had wanted to do & say for a long time.

Dieter hadn’t asked again. Hadn’t pushed for an answer again.Not since the last time you said ask me tomorrow. He liked the game & deep down he knew he didn’t need you to be his wife to be the love of his life. But as you watched him, this ridiculous, chaotic, impossible man, the father of your child, the absolute love of your life,You knew. You just knew. He had always been the one no matter how mellow dramatic, non serious, bat shit insane he was. He was your person.

So, before you could overthink it, you stopped walking. Took a breath & then, you dropped to one knee.

Dieter froze.

“…Babe?” He said shocked. You looked up at him, heart pounding, racing, threatening to explode. & then, voice stronger than you expected, you said,

“Are you free right now?”

Dieter’s mouth parted. His eyes widened. For the first time in his entire life, Dieter Bravo was speechless.

“You… you’re serious?” he choked out. You nodded.

“I know I’ve made you wait,” you murmured, swallowing hard. “& I know you would’ve waited forever if I asked you to.” Dieter’s throat bobbed.”But I don’t want to wait anymore,” you whispered. “I know you’re the one. & I want to marry you… right now.”

Dieter let out a breathless laugh.Then without a second of hesitation, He crouched down. Still holding your Daughter. His large magnificent Hand cradling your face. he then kissed you. Deep. Messy. Full of every ounce of love he had for you. When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, he whispered,

“Sweetheart, I’ve been free since the day I met you.”

Your heart fucking cracked. You both felt this bolt of love blossom between you like it had always been there, you were laughing, crying, kissing him again.

Somewhere between all of it, your daughter stirred, blinking sleepily.

“Mummy Daddy?” she mumbled. “What happenin’?” Dieter grinned, scooping her up between you both.

“Mommy just decided to finally marry Daddy,” he whispered dramatically. Your daughter gasped. Then she clapped. Dieter & you couldn’t hold it in & laughed. “See? Even she knows I deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. Typical Dieter always getting the last word. But when Dieter kissed you again, soft, sweet, so ridiculously in love, You knew you’d never regret this. Because, finally, finally, you were right where you were meant to be.

With him.

& her.

Your family

Forever.

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sentinelsthiccass · 7 months ago

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TFO Actor AU Episode Three

Hobbies

Orion Pax: My hobbies? Well, I'm actually a lot like my character, a huge history nerd. Going to libraries and museums, checking out monuments and memorials... And I may or may not have snuck into places I shouldn't have to get more info...

D-16: Yeah. And just like in the movie, I get you out of trouble.

Orion Pax: I really do owe you... anyways, I also like cooking! Not sweets though, literally anything other than sweets. Not that I don't like sweets, just...

D-16: Any sweets he makes taste like dirt. He tried making cupcakes and almost burned down the kitchen.

Orion Pax: My fiancé won't even allow me to attempt to make sweets.

D-16: No need to talk about me like I'm not right here.

Orion Pax: I know... just wanted an excuse to remind people we're engaged... oh! I also like soccer. Though, sometimes I kick too hard. Like the time I nailed Elita in the face with the ball... didn't end well.

D-16, snickering: Didn't she break your arm?

Orion Pax: She broke my arm, yes.

D-16: Anyways... my hobbies now. I'm a collector of merch... specifically Megatronus merch. Yes, I am still a Megatronus fan in real life. I have a whole spare room for the stuff...

Orion Pax: You're such a dork!

D-16: Takes one to know one.

Orion Pax: Got me there.

The two giggle before D continues

D-16: I also make sweets. I'm the opposite of Orion, sweets are all I can make. Yet, ironically, I'm not much of a sweets person. So usually I just make it for others.

Orion Pax: We really are meant for each other...

D-16: Let's not get too sappy on camera, babe... lastly, and you're not gonna believe this... meditation. I meditate.

Orion Pax: He meditates.

D-16: I can absolutely be an aggressive person at times. So Alpha Trion suggested meditating to calm down. It actually does help, so I do it when angry or stressed or upset... you get the gist.

Orion yawns and leans on D, head on his shoulder.

D-16, chuckling: Looks like it's time to get some rest.

Orion Pax: Noooooo...

D-16: We can cuddle while we curl up together~

Orion Pax: ...fiiiiiine.

D and Orion start walking out. Orion ends up nearly falling over in his tiredness, so D scoops him up to carry him home.

---

Elita-1: My hobbies? I've got a few... gymnastics being one of them. I'm pretty agile, so it's right up my alley, you know?

B-127: I've seen her do some crazy scrap in gymnastics.

Elita-1: Oh yeah. But that stuff is super advanced takes ages of practice.

B-127: How long have you been doing it?

Elita-1: I've lost track... anyways, I also do boxing.

B-127: Anyone could have guessed that one, considering how often she punches people. Good sport for her, huh?

Elita-1: Oh, shut up, you little yellow pest.

B-127: Rude... but yeah, she is good at it, I go to all her matches to show my support, just like how I go to Orion's soccer games to cheer him on and D's conventions to help him carry stuff!

Elita-1: You are still a little pest at times... but you know we appreciate that, we appreciate your support. You're a good friend, B...

Elita pats B and B giggles.

B-127: Awwww, you do like me!!

Elita-1: Shut up before I take it back... anyways, I can't really think of any more off the top of my head... you can go, B.

B-127: Ooooh, okay, my turn! First off, I'm a huge techie! I love working with technology, be it repairing things, building my own inventions, stuff like that!

Elita-1: We rely on him to repair our scrap so much... but he always yaps our audials off as he repairs things.

B-127, giggling: I do talk a lot, huh? Anyways, this isn't limited to regular tech stuff, either. I also love building things in general with whatever I can get my hands on. One of the rooms in my house is an entire advanced Lego city, complete with working stoplights and a remote control train.

Elita-1: Seriously? How long did that take?

B-127: Dunno... anyways, lastly, I like drawing! Mainly just little doodles, nothing much.

Elita-1: You probably draw like a sparkling.

B-127: Hey!

#transformers one #tf1 #orion pax #b 127 #d 16 #elita one #actor au #au #hobbies #dpax

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thermoeliteinc · 7 months ago

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seat-safety-switch · 9 months ago

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Ted Genocide looks at me, and says: rookie, it's time to take the war to the bugs. They can't take our homes like this.

I can't disagree, but I think his enthusiasm is a bit misplaced. This is just my summer job, a break between my college courses of Advanced Endocrinology and Beginner Astrophysics. If you ask me, and nobody did before the big incident, I think that being exposed to this level of hostility in the workplace is bad for everyone, not just the termites and cockroaches we were trying to get rid of. Even if the giant fibreglass beetle on top of the pest-control Econoline made a pretty cool sound whenever we drove through the runway tunnel near the airport, I was happy to be done with the job.

Ted stops, sniffs the air. By now, I've learned not to talk to him when he gets like this, and he gets like this a lot. A lifetime of chemicals, I assumed. My mom agrees whenever I call home and tell her about how my week went. She's concerned, but doesn't want to smother me too much. Working on her marriage with my step-father, who believes children should be raised by the Vietnam War, like he wasn't. I wait for Ted to say something. My feet are cold and I wish I were in the van, listening to the local Top 40 station tell me about how bad the local politicians are, their entire "bit" synthesized by the station's intern. Now that would be a job I'd be able to enjoy. Wouldn't be picking up so many dead rats, that's for sure.

After a couple minutes, Ted remembers that I'm there. He puts one finger to his mouth, and points to the basement of this townhouse. Which is funny, because I didn't remember seeing a door to the basement when we came in here. There's one there now, though. He tells me to go back to the van, wait for him there.

As I watch Ted descend into the hissing, chittering mass of what would later be called the Hellmouth of Orkin®, I realize today is his turn to pay for lunch. Cheap bastard is going to stiff me on Subway Wednesday, of all days.

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valy-gc · 9 months ago

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TWST Fanfics ideas - Classes exercices

I was wondering... what are the clases exactly? What do they learn in it? So here are my guess:

In the « normal » class (music, math, art….) the exercices listed here would be in addition of the « normal » exercices. Also I give a list of 10 potential exercices per class, but you can imagine others

~~~~~~~~

In a "Practical Magic" class they would focus on everyday magic for chores. The exercises could include: 1. Cleaning Charms: Students practice spells to clean objects or spaces without manual labor. 2. Cooking Spells: Learning to prepare meals with a wave of a wand, including chopping, stirring, and temperature control. 3. Repairing Enchantments: Casting spells to mend broken items, from clothing to furniture. 4. Gardening Magic: Using magic to tend to plants, making them grow faster or shaping them into artistic forms. 5. Laundry Spells: Enchanting clothes to wash, dry, and fold themselves. 6. Organization Charms: Spells that sort and organize personal belongings, books, or tools. 7. Protective Wards: Setting up magical barriers to keep homes clean and safe from pests or intruders. 8. Weatherproofing Spells: Enchantments to protect against weather, like waterproofing or temperature regulation. 9. Light Charms: Magical ways to illuminate spaces efficiently. 10. Summoning Spells: Conjuring objects to hand, saving time on searching for misplaced items.

~~~~~~

In a "Conjuration" class, the focus would be on summoning objects, creatures, or elements from thin air or from distant places. Here are some exercises: 1. Basic Summoning: Students learn to summon simple objects like feathers or stones to their hands. 2. Targeted Conjuration: Practicing conjuring items from specific locations, such as retrieving a book from a shelf. 3. Creature Summoning: Safely summoning small magical creatures and learning to interact with them. 4. Food Conjuration: Conjuring edible items, focusing on getting the taste and temperature right. 5. Elemental Conjuration: Bringing forth elements like water or fire, controlling their shape and intensity. 6. Conjuring Clothes: Instantly outfitting oneself with appropriate attire for different occasions. 7. Multiplication: Learning to duplicate objects, which is a complex form of conjuration. 8. Conjuring from Nature: Drawing materials directly from natural sources, like summoning water from a lake or leaves from a tree. 9. Advanced Conjuration: Summoning complex mechanisms or devices, understanding their assembly and function. 10. Emergency Conjuration: Quick conjuration drills for situations requiring immediate access to tools or aids.

~~~~~~

In a "Magical Potion" class, students would learn the delicate art of brewing magical concoctions with various effects. Here are some potential exercises: 1. Ingredient Identification: Recognizing and categorizing potion ingredients by their magical properties. 2. Mixing Methods: Mastering the techniques of stirring, shaking, and combining potion ingredients. 3. Temperature Control: Learning the precise temperatures needed for different stages of potion brewing. 4. Timing Practice: Developing a sense of timing for adding ingredients and the duration of brews. 5. Safety Protocols: Understanding the importance of safety when handling dangerous or volatile substances. 6. Potion Analysis: Testing and analyzing the effects of potions on inanimate objects or consenting magical creatures. 7. Remedy Brewing: Creating potions that heal ailments or counteract poisons. 8. Enhancement Elixirs: Concocting brews that temporarily enhance abilities or senses. 9. Transformation Potions: Experimenting with potions that can change one's appearance or species for a short time. 10. Invisibility Mixtures: Perfecting the tricky art of brewing potions that render the drinker invisible.

~~~~~~~

In an "Alchemy" class, the curriculum would likely explore the mystical side of transforming substances into new forms, Alchemy would also be a form of magical chemistry class. Here are some exercises: 1. Metal Transmutation: Practicing turning base metals into gold or silver, starting with small quantities. 2. Elixir Crafting: Brewing elixirs that promote longevity or enhance physical abilities. 3. Philosopher's Stone Theories: Studying the legendary Philosopher's Stone and attempting to replicate its properties. 4. Substance Purification : Learning to purify and refine substances to increase their magical potency. 5. Gemstone Synthesis: Creating precious gemstones from common minerals through alchemical processes. 6. Liquid to Solid Transmutation: Transforming liquids into solid forms, such as water into crystal. 7. Herbal Alchemy: Using plants and herbs to create powerful extracts and essences. 8. Magical Ink and Paper Making: Producing materials that can hold enchantments or spells. 9. Alchemical Symbols: Understanding and using runes to enhance alchemical reactions. 10. Advanced Alchemy: Attempting more complex transmutations and understanding the ethical implications of alchemy.

~~~~~~~

In a “Digital Engineering” class, students would likely explore the intersection of magic and technology. Here are some exercises:

1. Magical Circuit Design: Learning to create circuits that are powered by magical energy. 2. Enchanted Programming: Writing code that interacts with magical objects or creatures. 3. Rune-Based Computing: Using ancient runes to perform computations and process magical data. 4. Golem Programming: Crafting and programming magical automatons for various tasks. 5. Magical Interface Development: Designing interfaces that allow wizards to interact with digital devices. 6. Virtual Spell Simulation: Using virtual reality to practice spells in a controlled digital environment. 7. Enchanted Object Fabrication: 3D printing objects with embedded magical properties. 8. Magical Network Security: Protecting magical databases and networks from unauthorized access or curses. 9. Spellware Development: Creating software that enhances or channels magical abilities. 10. Technomancy Projects: Integrating technology and magic to create innovative solutions to common magical problems.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a “Magic Analysis” class, students would delve into the theoretical aspects of magic and its practical implications, to understand them and maybe creating your own. Here are some exercises:

1. Spell Structure Decomposition: Breaking down spells into their basic components to understand how they work. 2. Magical Flow Charting: Mapping out the flow of magical energy in spells and enchantments. 3. Ritual Analysis: Studying the steps of magical rituals to determine their purpose and effectiveness. 4. Magical Artifact Examination: Investigating the history and magical properties of various artifacts. 5. Potion Formula Deconstruction: Analyzing potion recipes to understand the chemical and magical reactions involved. 6. Enchantment Efficiency Testing: Measuring the strength and duration of enchantments to optimize them. 7. Magical Language Syntax: Exploring the grammar and syntax of magical languages and their impact on spellcasting. 8. Magical Ethics Debate: Discussing the moral implications of different magical practices. 9. Historical Magic Research: Examining historical texts to understand the evolution of magical practices. 10. Magical Theory Papers: Writing and peer-reviewing academic papers on various topics in magical theory.

~~~~~~~~~~

In an “Ancient Curses” class, students would explore the history, creation, and counteraction of curses from ancient times. Here are some exercises that might be included:

1. Curse Identification: Learning to recognize different types of curses and their symptoms. 2. Historical Curse Study: Examining ancient texts and artifacts to understand the origins of famous curses. 3. Curse Crafting: Understanding the components and ethics of creating curses (theoretical exercises only, magic analysis basics needed). 4. Protection Amulets: Designing and creating amulets that protect against curses. 5. Counter-Curse Development: Practicing spells and rituals that can counteract or break curses. 6. Curse Simulation: Role-playing scenarios to understand the impact of curses and practice countermeasures. 7. Language of Cursing: Studying ancient languages and scripts that were traditionally used to cast curses. 8. Ethical Implications: Discussing the moral considerations and consequences of curse usage. 9. Curse Removal Techniques: Learning various methods to cleanse objects, places, or individuals of curses. 10. Field Research: Visiting historical sites believed to be cursed and conducting investigations.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a “Defense Magic” class, students would learn how to protect themselves and others from various magical threats. Here are some exercises:

Shield Spells: Casting protective barriers to deflect or absorb magical attacks.

Counter-Spells: Learning spells that can negate or reverse the effects of incoming spells.

Disarming Techniques: Practicing spells and maneuvers to disarm opponents without causing harm.

Magical First Aid: Applying spells and potions to treat injuries caused by magical means.

Dark Arts Defense: Understanding and defending against dark magic, including curses and hexes.

Stealth and Concealment: Using magic to hide one’s presence or escape detection.

Anti-Poison Spells: Identifying and neutralizing magical poisons and toxins.

Magical Combat: Engaging in controlled duels to practice defensive and offensive spells.

Mind Protection: Strengthening mental defenses against magical intrusion and manipulation.

Environmental Defense: Using magic to manipulate the surroundings for protection, such as creating barriers or camouflage.

~~~~~~

In a class dedicated to “Poison Making,” which would be a highly controlled and ethically sensitive subject, students might engage in the following theoretical exercises:

Toxicology Basics: Understanding the properties of various toxins and their effects on living organisms.

Antidote Formulation: Learning to create antidotes for common poisons.

Safe Handling Procedures: Training in the safe handling, storage, and disposal of toxic substances.

Poison Detection: Practicing spells and techniques to detect the presence of poison in food and drink.

Historical Poisons Study: Researching historical uses of poison and the evolution of toxicology.

Simulated Poison Brewing: Theoretical exercises in brewing poisons with harmless substitutes.

Ethical Debates: Discussing the moral implications of poison use and the responsibilities of a poison maker.

Magical Containment: Learning to magically contain and neutralize poisons to prevent accidents.

Field Identification: Recognizing poisonous plants and creatures in their natural habitats.

Legal Knowledge: Gaining an understanding of the legal restrictions and regulations surrounding poisons.

It’s important to note that such a class would emphasize the importance of using this knowledge for educational purposes only, with a strong focus on safety, ethics, and legal compliance.

~~~~~~~~

In a class focused on “Changes and Comparisons of Abbreviated Spells in Ancient and Modern Magic History,” students would likely explore the evolution of spellcasting techniques and the efficiency of spell abbreviations over time. Here are some exercises that could be part of this class:

Spell Evolution Timeline: Creating a timeline to visualize the changes in spellcasting from ancient to modern times.

Abbreviation Analysis: Comparing the original long-form spells with their modern abbreviated versions to understand the changes in language and technique.

Efficiency Studies: Measuring the effectiveness and speed of casting abbreviated spells versus their full-length counterparts.

Historical Context: Studying the historical events that led to the development of abbreviated spells.

Cultural Impact: Examining how different magical cultures influenced the abbreviation of spells.

Language Shifts: Exploring how changes in magical languages have affected spell abbreviations.

Spell Adaptation: Practicing the adaptation of ancient spells into modern abbreviated forms.

Magical Linguistics: Understanding the linguistic principles that govern the creation of effective spell abbreviations.

Ancient Scripts: Learning to read and interpret ancient magical scripts where original spells were recorded.

Modern Usage: Discussing the role of abbreviated spells in contemporary magical society and how they fit into everyday magical use.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The “History of Magic” class would be about exploring the origins and development of magical practices. Here’s how the class might be:

Ancient Civilizations: Studying the role of magic in ancient exctinct societies.

Magical Artifacts: Examining historical artifacts and their uses in various cultures.

Famous Magicians: Learning about prominent figures in magical history and their contributions.

Evolution of Spells: Tracing the development of spells from ancient incantations to modern-day practices.

Magical Creatures: Investigating the historical accounts of magical creatures and their interactions with humans.

Witch Trials: Analyzing the social and political factors behind witch trials and their impact on magical practices. (assuming there was witch trials at some point in their history, and a time where mages weren't common)

Renaissance Magic: Exploring the resurgence of magical interests during certain times.

Magical Literature: Reading and discussing key texts that have shaped magical theory and practice.

Modern Magic: Understanding the transition from traditional to contemporary magic in the context of technological advancements.

Field Trips: Visiting historical sites and museums to see firsthand the remnants of magical history.

~~~~~~~~~~

In “Animal Languages,” students would learn about the communication methods used by various magical and non-magical creatures. Here are some exercises that might be included:

Basic Animal Sounds: Starting with the sounds made by common creatures (like cats) and understanding their meanings.

Magical Linguistics: Studying the structure of animal languages and how they differ from human speech.

Non-Verbal Communication: Observing and interpreting body language and other non-verbal cues used by animals.

Spell-Assisted Communication: Using spells to facilitate understanding between humans and animals.

Creature Vocalization Practice: Mimicking creature sounds to communicate directly with them.

Field Studies: Conducting fieldwork to observe and interact with animals in their natural habitats.

Magical Translation: Learning spells or using magical devices that translate animal languages.

Historical Animal Speech: Researching ancient texts for references to legendary creatures and their languages.

Interspecies Diplomacy: Role-playing scenarios that require negotiation and communication with magical creatures.

Conservation Ethics: Discussing the importance of preserving magical creatures and their languages.

~~~~~~~~~

In “Astrology”, students would explore the celestial bodies from a scientific perspective while also delving into the mystical aspects that have influenced human culture. Here are some exercises that might be part of this class:

Stargazing Sessions: Using telescopes to observe planets, stars, and other celestial phenomena.

Celestial Navigation: Learning to navigate using the stars and understanding the historical importance of this skill.

Astrological Chart Creation: Drawing and interpreting astrological charts based on the positions of celestial bodies.

Mythology and Constellations: Studying the myths associated with constellations and their origins.

Planetary Influence: Discussing the believed influences of planets and stars on human behavior and events.

Astronomical Calculations: Performing calculations to predict celestial events like eclipses and planet transits.

Space-Time Magic: Exploring theoretical magic that could be influenced by astronomical phenomena.

Astrological Predictions: Practicing the art of making predictions based on astrological signs and movements.

Cosmic Spellwork: Investigating spells and rituals that draw power from celestial events.

Scientific Debates: Engaging in discussions about the intersection of astronomy, astrology, and magic.

~~~~~~~~~~

In “Biology” class, students would study the life processes and organisms. Here are some exercises:

Magical Microscopy: Using enchanted microscopes to observe the cellular structure of magical plants and creatures.

Potion Ingredients Study: Examining the biological properties of common potion ingredients.

Genetics: Learning about the hereditary traits of common and magical creatures.

Ecosystems: Studying the interactions between magical creatures and their environments.

Plant Cultivation: Growing and studying plants with or without magical properties in a controlled setting.

Creature Dissection: Dissecting magical or common creatures (ethically sourced) to understand their anatomy and/or magical organ functions.

Field Trips: Visiting various habitats to study magical and common creatures and plants in their natural settings.

Conservation Magic: Learning spells and techniques for the conservation and protection of species.

Disease Research: Investigating diseases that affect creatures and how to cure them.

Biological Spell Development: Creating spells that can influence biological processes in plants and animals.

~~~~~~~~~~

In “Physical Education” class, the focus would be on maintaining physical health and learning how to incorporate magic into enhancing physical abilities. Here are some exercises that might be included:

Magical Warm-Ups: Starting each class with stretches and light exercises enhanced by warming spells.

Enchanted Obstacle Courses: Navigating obstacle courses that change magically, requiring quick reflexes and agility.

Broomstick Aerobics: Engaging in flying exercises that improve balance and coordination while on a broomstick.

Strength Spells: Learning spells that temporarily increase strength for lifting or moving heavy objects.

Magical Sports: Playing magical versions of traditional sports.

Endurance Charms: Using charms to boost endurance during long-distance running or swimming.

Flexibility Enchantments: Applying enchantments that enhance flexibility and prevent injuries.

Dance Magic: Incorporating magical elements into dance routines for a fun and active workout.

Meditation and Focus: Using meditation techniques to improve concentration and mental stamina.

Magical First Aid: Learning basic first aid spells for treating minor sports injuries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In “Flying” class, students would learn the art of flying, whether it be on broomsticks, magical board, or through levitation spells. Here are some exercises that might be part of the curriculum:

Broomstick Basics: Learning how to mount, dismount, and handle a broomstick properly.

Levitation Spells: Practicing spells that allow one to float or fly without the aid of objects.

Flight Safety: Understanding the safety protocols for flying, including protective spells and charms.

Aerial Maneuvers: Mastering basic flying techniques such as turns, stops, and speed control.

Magical board Handling: If applicable, learning to control and fly on magical board.

Group Flights: Participating in synchronized flying exercises to build teamwork and coordination.

Altitude Adaptation: Acclimating to higher altitudes and learning how to adjust for air pressure changes.

Racing Techniques: Engaging in friendly races to improve agility and speed.

Emergency Landings: Practicing how to land safely in case of an emergency or spell failure.

Weather Spells: Using spells to navigate and adapt to different weather conditions while flying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In “Swimming” class, students would learn not only traditional swimming techniques but also how to incorporate magic into their aquatic activities. Here are some exercises:

Water Adaptation Spells: Casting spells that allow students to breathe underwater and withstand pressure changes.

Aquatic Mobility Charms: Learning charms to enhance swimming speed and agility in the water.

Merfolk Communication: Studying the language and customs of merfolk to interact with them during underwater excursions.

Underwater Navigation: Using magical means to navigate through murky or enchanted waters.

Magical Marine Life: Identifying and studying the behaviors of magical creatures that live in water.

Water Safety Enchantments: Applying protective enchantments to prevent drowning and other water-related accidents.

Diving Techniques: Practicing diving spells that allow for smooth entry into the water from great heights.

Temperature Control Charms: Learning to regulate body temperature to comfortably swim in cold waters.

Underwater Spellcasting: Mastering the art of casting spells while submerged and dealing with the resistance of water.

Rescue and Recovery Spells: Training in spells and procedures for rescuing others from aquatic dangers.

~~~~~~~~~~

In “Music” class, students would explore musical arts, with and without magic. Here are some exercises that might be included:

Instrumental Enchantment: Learning to play and enchant instruments so they can be played magically without physical touch.

Magical Music Theory: Studying the theory behind music and how it interacts with magical frequencies.

Enchanted Choir: Singing in a choir where voices are magically harmonized.

Rhythmic Spellcasting: Combining spellcasting with rhythm to enhance the potency of spells.

Musical Creature Communication: Using music to communicate with creatures that respond to magical melodies.

Historical Magical Composers: Learning about famous magical composers and their contributions to the musical world.

Sound Manipulation: Practicing spells that manipulate sound waves to create music or silence.

Magical Performance: Preparing and performing in magical concerts or recitals.

Music and Emotion: Exploring how music can influence emotions and states of mind magically.

Instrument Crafting: Building magical instruments with unique properties and sounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~

In “Art” class, students would likely explore various forms of creative expression, possibly incorporating magical elements into their artwork. Here are some exercises:

Enchanted Drawing: Practicing drawing techniques with enchanted pencils that bring sketches to life.

Potion Paints: Creating paints from magical potions that change color or have other unique properties.

Sculpting with Magic: Using transfiguration spells to sculpt materials like clay or stone without physical tools.

Illusionary Art: Crafting art that moves or changes, creating illusions that trick the eye.

Magical Photography: Taking and developing photographs that capture magical auras or movements.

Wearable Art: Designing clothing or jewelry with enchantments that alter their appearance.

Art History: Studying the works of famous magical artists and their impact on magical society.

Artistic Spellwork: Learning spells that enhance artistic abilities or inspire creativity.

Magical Murals: Painting murals with spells that make them interact with the environment.

Restoration Techniques: Using magic to restore and preserve ancient artworks and artifacts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In “Mathematics” class... well students would likely explore both the theoretical and practical applications of math, but may use magic too. Here are some exercises other than the "common" ones:

Arithmancy: Studying the magical properties of numbers and their use in spell-crafting and divination.

Geometric Spell Patterns: Drawing geometric shapes that form the basis of complex spell structures.

Potion Measurements: Precisely measuring and calculating potion ingredients for perfect brews.

Magical Algebra: Solving equations that predict magical phenomena or outcomes.

Astronomical Calculations: Using mathematics to predict celestial alignments and their magical effects.

Transfiguration Geometry: Applying geometric principles to accurately transfigure objects into different shapes.

Probability and Chance: Calculating probabilities to predict the outcomes of magical experiments.

Magical Graph Theory: Mapping out the connections between magical nodes or ley lines.

Temporal Equations: Understanding the mathematical principles behind time-related spells.

Mathematical Proofs: Proving theorems that underpin magical laws and principles.

~~~~~~~~~~

In “Health” class that would be held twice a year by the nurse(s), students would likely focus on both physical and magical well-being. Here are some exercises:

Magical Nutrition: Learning about magical foods and their effects on health and magical abilities.

Body Enhancement Charms: Understanding the ethical use of charms that temporarily enhance physical abilities.

Magical Hygiene: Learning spells and practices for maintaining personal and environmental cleanliness.

Disease Awareness: Studying magical and non-magical diseases, their symptoms, and prevention methods.

First Aid Training: Gaining practical skills in magical and non-magical first aid techniques.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland classes #exercices

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krispycreamcake · 10 months ago

Text

I ate my saviour and licked the plate

Desc: Yui goes to church

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers

CW: blood, self inflicted cannibalism, uhh blasphemy?? Wounds, mental deterioration, teenage girl crisis idk

Theme: goretober

The wind’s wicked currents weaved through the canopies, howling a tune so sickening it clung to her bones, gnawing at her spirit. The clouds smothered the sky in a jealous embrace, as if even the sun refused to bear witness to her torment.

As usual, the young girl found herself caught up in a bizzare life or death situation caused by these demonic blood sucking creatures that would often than not, call themselves brothers.

Her pale hand pressed against her neck, a futile attempt to hold in the life draining from her veins. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of blood, a reminder that time was running out, but her body refused to surrender easily.She stumbled toward her room, knowing it was a foolish refuge, but in that moment, it felt like the last shred of control she could cling to.

Of course, she of all persons knew that was a stupid and futile attempt at saving her life.But to her, even if these pointless decisions all ended up with the same outcome, at least she chose the path that shows she's still determined and willing to live.

By the time she got to her room, Laito was already waiting for her.

"Nfu~ What a dumb little bitch you are! Don't you think you're too old to be playing these worthless games?"

Laito's voice was like velvet dipped in venom, slithering through the air as he advanced toward her. He enjoyed watching her falter, savoring each second of her fear as if it were a fine wine.

Her heart rate spiked as she started to feel her legs begin to give out underneath her.

"I'm- I'm not playing games..." Yui responded, her voice broken up.

"Good, because neither am I." This time, Laito lowered his voice and it sent chills crawling up her feeble spine.

He sauntered his way over to her, teasing her, making her think or rather making her realize, this was an extremely easy feat for Laito.

"Laito you can't- please." She begged as she felt her vision fade, black spots surrounding her vision.

Yui’s vision blurred, not just from the blood loss, but from the warping sense of reality that had begun to plague her mind. Was any of this even real? Was Laito there to begin with? Or was it another nightmare that bled into her waking hours? Her hand reached for the door, but even that felt distant, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

Before he could even respond, she was out like a light. Her body pummeled down onto the floor, leaving behind an echoing thud.He watched as her limp body lay seemingly lifeless on the floor before tipping his fedora and sighing.When Yui's eyes fluttered open, the world felt heavy. Her limbs were numb and weighed down from exhaustion and pain that seemed to pulse from her wounds. Every breath stung, a reminder of how fragile her life had become.

She forced herself upright, legs trembling as though they no longer knew how to support her body. How many times has she woken up like this? How many times has she been disoriented on the floor, aching from multiple bite marks?

The sky was still grey, the clouds hanging low like a suffocating blanket. Each step toward the church felt like a battle as the wind bit at her skin. Finally, there, in the distance, stood the chapel, a sanctuary of stone. The place where she could finally breathe, even if only for a moment. After having to deal with those vanpiric pests day and night, she could finally get the refuge she was seeking for so long.

The large wooden doors were pushed open as the aroma of incense wafted through the air, beckoning her further inside, filling her with childhood nostalgia.She looked about the church, eyes drinking in every detail as if her soul was parched. The candles offered her a sense of warmth and comfort as the cross that stood right in front her was a strict reminder that she could unfurl any and all problems. Here, beneath the gaze of the saints and in the glow of the candles, she could be whole again. Couldn’t she? Her heart still raced, the echo of Laito’s voice slithering through her mind like a snake in the garden of Eden.

It took every ounce of her will to remind herself: God is here. God is watching. She was safe here. She had to be. She chuckled as she remembered how the boys would often call her foolish or naive for believing that crosses and garlic would keep vampires away, but yet they were still uniquely disturbed by churches.

God was everywhere. That’s what they always said. He was in the bread she ate, in the wine she drank. His body. His blood. Her salvation.

Yui felt the hollow pit in her stomach gnawing at her, a hunger that was more than physical. If she could just eat, just take Him into her, maybe....maybe it would fill the emptiness she always felt. Maybe it could actually save her.Sometimes she doubted herself and her God, she knew she shouldn't, but she did.

Despite him being everywhere, he was nowhere to be seen whenever she suffered the most. Was the blood that she poured from her skin a testament to his divine creation? Was that the only reason? Where was He when her voice was hoarse from screaming, her body broken? They said He was in everyone, but how could He be in them? Those monsters who took everything from her. How could God allow such suffering? Or was this His plan all along? No.... It couldn't be. And even if it was, he knew best.

Even here, it wasn’t enough. The prayers weren’t enough. The communion wasn’t enough. Her sins were too deep, her soul too stained. The hunger never left. Maybe...maybe she needed more. More than a sip of wine. More than a crumb of bread. Maybe only something real for once, something stronger that would certainly purify her soul once and for all.

She ushers these thoughts out of her head as she goes to light a candle. There's a lighter next to a Bible and she picks it up, trying to get it to start but it won't. Eventually a flame is born and she rushes to light the candle, accidentally burning herself in the process. She quickly dropped the lighter and began sucking on her finger pad where the burn is.

She sighed in relief as she saw that she didn't also accidentally out the candle with her clumsiness. Still, something didn't feel quite right.

The candle flickered in a way that made it seem as if it would go out any second, or perhaps she was just overthinking. She must've been.

After that day at the church, Yui decided to go more regularly. She knew it was a high risk, so she gradually increased how often she went as to go undetected by the brothers' radar.

She was glad she could escape and find this peace within herself again.

As she left the sanctuary of the church, she couldn't help but feel paranoid as if eyes we're watching her every move as she timidly made her way back "home".

“It’s disgusting to watch her crawl back to that church every time she needs to feel human. Let’s remind her where she belongs, right Teddy?"

.......................................................................................

Yui wakes up weak but determined, her body aching from another brutal night with the vampires. Still, she forces herself to dress and head to the church. As she's about to leave, Ayato grabs her waist from behind and forces her to sit on his lap.

"And where do you think you're going chi-chi-na-shi?"

Despite the red head's seemingly playful tone, she knew she was in trouble. Yui immediately stood up and backed away from Ayato, completely unable to control her fear.

"I- I was just...." She stammered out, knowing there was no right answer.That was until she bumped into someone.

"You're so audacious for a pathetic human. Who do you think you are stepping on my shoe!? I should kill you right now and show you a lesson!"

Kanato screeched as he shoved her right into Laito's arms, who seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Well well well, lookie what I caught. One little bitch~ I haven't seen you in so longgg, are you avoiding me?" Laito's tone was mocking and disgusting. It made her want to throw up.

“I’m just… going to the church. Please. Just let me go. I need it. I need to.....” Yui tried to explain, immediately regretting her decision.

“Oh, you’re done with that place. No more church. No more begging your pathetic god for help. You belong to us now, and no one else.”

Ayato cooed as he stood up, fingers grappling around her throat as Laito pinned her arms behind her back. Kanato was busy staring deep into her skin, looking at her face from the closest possible angle. No. No. They couldn’t take this from her. It was all she had left. The only place where the pain didn’t follow her. The only place where she wasn’t just a shell for them to feed on.

Almost as if he had spider senses, a certain glasses clad man came into the room, ears fuming as he saw the sight before him.

"All of you! Get off of her this instant!" Reiji's voice spoke sternly but usually never loudly.

After a half hour lecture that Yui completely zoned out if, the only part she understood after everything was that she still wasn't allowed to go to the church if it meant the triplets would get out of line if she did.

Was this His plan all along? To let her suffer until she was nothing but an empty teapot? She had begged, she had prayed, but there was only silence. Was He even listening anymore? Or had he abandoned her too?

It had been more than a couple weeks since the incident and Yui wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Well that is, until she realized she did, she just hadn't thought of it yet.Yui kneels in her room, clutching a rosary in her trembling hands. Her lips move rapidly as she mutters prayers, her voice rising and falling in an erratic rhythm.

She hadn’t eaten in days, believing that suffering would bring her closer to salvation, but all she felt was hunger. A hunger that gnawed at her, deeper than flesh, something she couldn’t satisfy. But that was the point more or less no? To have your body completely clean and as the perfect vessel for God to reside in.

After a couple more days of this, Yui noticed that her thoughts began to become more clear and her body felt as light as a feather. All this fasting and praying finally paid off, she knew it would, it just took devotion.

The only thing she didn't really have was the body and blood of Christ.

"If I can’t take him in at the church, then…..then I’ll have to do it here. God is in everyone, isn’t he? If I eat…if I eat….."Yui said to herself.

She was no longer scared of her thoughts and often embraced them by speaking it out loud as a testimony to her confidence and strength.

She kneels by her bed, trembling, clutching her rosary, praying under her breath for salvation, or at least for some strength to endure the next torment. Despite her praying to avoid such a gruesome thing, she still manages to feel at peace.

Just as she begins to feel a sliver of comfort in her prayer, the door swings open violently, slamming against the wall.

Laito and Ayato saunter in, their footsteps echoing menacingly. Yui flinches, immediately feeling the danger in the air. She can barely muster the strength to stand but forces herself to rise anyways.Laito smirks, his fedora tipping lazily as his eyes settle on her, predatory.

"Nfu~ still clinging to your little God, huh? It’s almost cute... almost." Laito mocks her cruelly. Ayato on the other hand, scoffs.

"Cute? More like pitiful! I can barely stand to look at her, let alone drink her blood." He complains to Laito.The atmosphere grows tense, heavy, as Yui backs away, instinctively gripping the cross tighter.

“Please... just leave me alone...” Yui says, her feet glued to the floor.

"And remind me again when that line has ever worked on any of us pancake?" The redhead said as he rolled his eyes.

"I think it's finally time she pays for her sins, don't you agree Ayato?"

Both brothers smirk as Yui can feel the bile rising in her throat.Yui’s heart races as she feels her fragile reality cracking. Laito grabs her wrist suddenly, forcing her onto her knees. He pulls the rosary from her hands, holding it up mockingly before tossing it aside. Yui watches it roll across the floor, her last tether to her faith slipping from her reach.

"You want to live, don’t you? Then you’re going to prove just how meaningless your God really is."

At this point Yui wasn't even sure who was speaking as her ears were overloaded by the sound of her heartbeat thumping.

Ayato rips the rosary away from her, tossing it to the floor as he kneels down next to her.

"For a while, I couldn't tell if you were this naive or just insane. But either way, you've helped make this a lot more interesting for me pancake." Yui had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"You'll thank the god you love so much for the pleasure we're about to give you, so hurry up and put those lips to work!"

Ayato commanded as if it were normal. Yui’s mind spins. Her vision blurs as tears well up, mixing with the blood and bruises already marking her pale skin. Her hands tremble violently.

“No... please, I can’t... I can’t...” Yui said, voice croaking and stuttering as she struggled to get the words out.

"Then die. Right here. Right now. I’ll drain you dry and throw away whatever’s left. But hey, you’ll get to meet your God, right?" Laito said sternly as he yanked her backwards, exposing her neck.

Yui’s eyes widen in horror as Laito’s fangs glisten, leaning in toward her throat. Her eyes strain to see as Ayato simply does nothing. The air is thick with malice, suffocating her, as she realizes they mean it. They’ll kill her. This isn’t a game. She doesn’t want to die. Not yet. Her breaths come in ragged, shallow gasps, and the weight of the moment crushes her completely.

Finally, with quivering lips and tears painting her face, she chokes out the words.

"M-my heart rejoices......in the Lord-in the Lord my horn is lifted h-high." She breaks her concentration to cry as Ayato and Laito snicker at her defenseless form.

"My mouth boasts over my e-enemies.....for I delight in your- your....deliverance." She sniffles again as her chest aches and pains her, her own body begging her to stop.

"There is no one holy l-like the Lord-Lord....there is no one be....besides you.....there is no Rock like our G-god."

By the time Yui finishes the prayer, she hadn't realized that both brothers were already feasting on her raw flesh, drinking her blood. She couldn't feel it, she couldn't feel anything.

She just kneeled there, quietly, taking in everything around her and ignoring it all simultaneously. Laito laughs, a chilling sound that sends a shiver down her spine. He lets go of her wrist, watching her crumple into herself.

"See? That wasn’t so hard. Now you can forget all about that little fantasy of salvation. You're ours." His words stung straight into her heart.

"Shit, Kanato's gonna be pissed that we didn't tell him huh?" Ayato began to loudly ponder.

"Even so, it's not us that'll get the fall for it. Bitch-chan will! He's gonna take out all his anger and jealousy onto you." Laito mocks her once again.

Yui was flopped onto the floor, eyes wide but not a hint of thought behind them.

Ayato and Laito eventually left after some back and forth bantering. Actually they left a while ago didn't they? What time was it? Yui hadn't moved since.

She tries to pray again, to reach out for some form of forgiveness, but the words feel hollow. She clutches her own hands, as though searching for a sense of self that has slipped away.

Yui is sitting alone in her room, her body weak, shaking. She’s barely conscious, but she’s consumed by one thought: she needs to be closer to God. She needs to become one with him. The hunger inside her won’t stop, and her mind keeps coming back to the phrase that haunts her: God is in everyone.

"I’m hungry. I’m so hungry. God is in me, isn’t He? If I eat… if I take His body into mine… I’ll finally be saved. I’ll feel whole again. God is in everyone. He must be. He has to be. I just have to… take Him in. It’s the only way." Yui says to herself, voice barely even a whisper.In a feverish, half-conscious state.

Yui bites into her own arm, blood spilling into her mouth. Flesh being torn apart by her feeble dull teeth, which only adds more to the pain. At first, it’s a shock, a painful, visceral reaction....but as she tastes it, there’s a sick sort of relief.

She feels powerful in a way she hasn’t before, as if she’s finally taking something back. Her vision blurs, but the hunger lessens for just a moment. Her mind spins with twisted thoughts. This is it, she thought.

This was what she needed. Eventually she was able to rip through herself like putty. She was finally consuming the very embodiment of God and reclaiming her spiritual purity. Despite her tears and blood, she felt safe again. She felt sure.

"I can feel it… I’m closer now. Closer to Him. If I keep going… If I take more… the hunger will stop. The pain will stop. I’ll finally be saved."

Yui was finally free from the shackles of these brothers and she rejoiced as her own tissue fell off of her arm.

Yui stares at her bloodied hands, trembling. Her stomach churns, it’s not disgust but rather hunger. She’s terrified of herself, but she can’t deny the small, twisted pleasure she feels. She whispers a prayer, but it’s broken, hollow.

“Forgive me, Father, for I… for I have sinned. But… I needed to… I needed to feel You. And now… now I need more.”

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