#but its not like it didn't hurt her. even then she tried.

[bumblesimagines]

Doomcoming

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After Flight 2525 crashes in the Canadian wilderness, (Y/N) Palmer is forced to acquaint himself with his sister's surviving teammates. He unexpectedly finds himself growing closer to their former team captain.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Yellowjackets warnings, sexual content, mentions of the roofied stew, mentions of attempted murder, the whole doomcoming episode essentially, mentions of cheating and teen pregnancy (Shauna)

divider by saradika-graphics!

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There was something daunting about the wilderness around them, something that made his stomach turn with unease, and had anxiety clutching his heart so tight he feared it'd burst in his chest.

He once thought he liked the woods, thought he enjoyed the beauty of something real and raw and untouched by the hands of mankind who so often sought to destroy what they couldn't control. He thought he saw beauty in the towering trees and the natural cycle binding the forest together.

It was hard to appreciate a cage once you were locked inside it.

Even as the girls giggled and bustled around with sticks and dying leaves to decorate the clearing for their own version of homecoming, he couldn't help but fidget with the sticks and moss he'd been given to convert into whatever he liked. His lips remained twisted downward into a hard frown and his facial muscles were beginning to hurt from how long he'd kept his brows furrowed. He couldn't help it. His concentrated face had never been pretty. His mother used to say it reminded her of his grandfather, a man worn down by grief and time unable to escape his past as a soldier. She never said it kindly.

"Fuck," He hissed quietly in frustration when another twig broke between his fingers, and in one quick swoop, he shoved the pile off his lap and let them clatter onto the forest floor to be forgotten as he stood and listened to them crackle and snap underneath his dirtied sneaker. The hot flash of emotion evaporated as quickly as it'd reared its head, and his shoulders sagged with the exhaustion that followed. 

(Y/N) had never been the type to fall so easily into the jaws of anger, that was a quality he attributed to Travis or Natalie, sometimes even Taissa when things didn't go her way.

Not him, though.

He'd always been the quiet one who preferred solitary over company, the guy with few friends who spent his time listening to music on his walkman with a book in hand and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips before and after school, the guy forced to accompany his little sister even though she was only a year younger than him and perfectly capable of standing up for herself. 

God, how he wanted a cigarette. It was a nasty habit, one he tried to quit for the sake of Van, but it was familiar and kept him busy whenever his mind wanted to run in everlasting circles.

His last pack, one he'd shoved into his bag at the very last minute before they had to leave to catch the godforsaken plane, had gone up in flames alongside his beloved walkman, a few books, and the unlucky few who hadn't escaped the ruins of the plane.

He managed to catch himself in time before he barreled into one of the girls, spitting out an apology and stepping aside to go around them before a hand firmly grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and held it in a tight fist. Almost instinctively, he jerked his arm away and frowned, the frown only deepening at the sight of Taissa staring at him with a grimace. "What?"

Her brows twitched. "Excuse me? What's with the atti-"

"I don't want to hear it, Taissa." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh. "What do you want?"

"I.." Taissa trailed off and her typically composed mask crumbled before his very eyes.

Her cracked lips pressed into a tight, thin, almost nervous line and she tucked in her chin to look down at the objects she cradled in her free hand as if they were precious china dolls she couldn't risk damaging. His eyes dropped down to them and his brows lowered at the sight of the handmade masks from cloth and leather stitched together. 

"I know Van doesn't want to join us because she's self-conscious so I.. I made us masks to wear. Do- Do you think she'll like them?"

The tension circulating in his weary body dulled for a moment as he stared down at the masks, lovingly crafted just for his sister's sake and happiness. He and Taissa had never seen eye-to-eye, no matter how hard Van tried through various means; attending parties together, catching lunch at the local diner, dragging him to the after-parties of their games. They begrudgingly co-existed for the most part, forced to be amicable so the girl they both cared for could be content.

Taissa was too headstrong, too stubborn, and too often refused to admit her wrongdoings for his liking.. but his sister loved her and embraced all the flaws he found too irritating to deal with. She took a girl most people walked on eggshells around and loved her as if she were a rose and not a thorn.

He ran a delicate finger over the soft fabric of one of the masks and felt himself soften up at the sweetness of it all, the thought that went into it. His mouth tugged into a strained smile. He wondered if their mother hoped her little girl was being taken care of, or if she even knew what day it was without them watching over her. "Yeah, she'll love 'em." 

"Good." Taissa let out a shaky breath of relief and nodded, offering him back one of those genuine smiles she reserved for those she cared about. "I'll see you at the party?"

His smile dropped. "I guess."

If it hadn't been for his Van's insistence that he pack some nicer clothes (he barely had any, to begin with) for the awards dinner they'd never get to attend, he would've had to suffice with one of his nicer-looking flannels or jumpers; instead, he slipped on the only polo shirt he packed, some jeans, and the cleanest pair of sneakers he could find even though he knew they would be caked in dirt by the end of the evening.

His hands remained shoved in his pockets as he strolled into the clearing and took in what they'd transformed it into. It could never compare to the clean, chilly, and neatly decorated gym where all the formal school events were held, but it radiated with the love and care poured into it. It almost felt.. homey. Comfortable.

In the middle of the clearing was a small campfire surrounded by fallen logs covered in moss that acted as their tables and seating. They'd used sturdy branches embedded in the ground and covered in cloth as torches, the crackling of the flames adding to the serene atmosphere. The jugs of juice Mari had accidentally fragmented over time sat surrounded by cups and the large pot of stew waiting to be eaten.

Most, if not all of the girls wore the dresses they'd packed for the awards dinner, makeup they managed to find or salvage decorating their usually bare faces. Even Misty, who he'd only ever seen wearing mascara, had her cheeks powered pink and eyelids colored purple. They'd styled their hair with crowns made of sticks, autumn leaves, and dying flowers.

With the songs of birds and insects serving as their music, everyone began to settle down around the clearing, cradling wooden bowls of the stew or drinking every last drop of the juice poured into their cups in hopes of getting even the slightest bit drunk.

(Y/N) curled his fingers around his plastic cup and swirled the dark purple juice remaining in it, a bittersweet tart flavor dancing on his tongue but not quite filling him with the typical warmth alcohol did. He stared down at the liquid, practically willing it to become wine so he could forget about everything for just a night.

The death of Laura Lee still hung over them like a thick blanket, but in the short time he'd been around the optimistic blonde, he knew she would've preferred a celebration of life over the somberness of grief that clung heavily to those who knew her best.

His gaze raised to search for Lottie in particular and he found the raven-haired girl sitting in front of the bonfire with a blank stare that only tugged on his heartstrings, even as she offered small smiles to her friends and teammates. Nobody had been able to pull her away from the lake after the explosion for hours, and her quiet sniffling often kept him up throughout the following nights.

"Hey," A voice cooed from behind as slender fingers pressed into his lower back, nails dragging along the fabric of his forest green shirt in a teasing manner. Jackie batted her mascara-coated lashes at him and offered a coy smile when her fingers danced their way to his forearm where she casually looped her arm around his. "Havin' fun?" She asked with a slight tilt of her head, big hazel eyes peering at him with focused attention he wasn't used to getting from the friendly striker. 

"Uh-"

Her smile widened when some of the girls began to sing (or rather scream) the lyrics to Kiss from a Rose at the top of their lungs, their gleeful cackles and snickers cutting through the lyrics. They swayed and spun, twirling their dresses and somehow avoiding spilling their drinks despite the occasional stumble here and there. "We should dance." 

Before he could say anything against it, because the only woman he'd ever danced with had been his grandmother when he was seven, Jackie scooped his cup out of his hand and set it blindly aside before tugging him toward the others. Her arms circled his shoulders and she drew him close, the act foreign to him yet welcoming.

He spent his whole life fussing over Van and ensuring their mother didn't drink herself to death, taking Van to and from soccer parties or parties or secret dates, pleading with Mr. Clark to let his mother keep her job at the diner 'cause his job at the old rundown theatre wouldn't be enough for the bills; he never had enough time for the girls who showed interest, let alone entertained the idea of involving himself with someone like Jacqueline Taylor whose childhood home was practically a mansion in his eyes.

Tentatively, he placed his hands over her hips, and Jackie responded with a soft giggle, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight peeking through the trees. She looked nice, nicer than she had in the past couple of weeks, maybe the last month.

He stopped keeping track of the time that passed a while back when he found it too depressing and consuming. The leaves changing from shades of green to varying shades of orange and red, combined with the temperatures subtly dropping, told him more than enough. The world was still spinning, they were still stranded, and they were probably going to die before winter finished settling in.

"You look handsome," Jackie said softly, her hands carefully adjusting the back of his collar before she tilted her head, brows quirking with expectation he wasn't surprised to see.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and gave an amused huff. "You look pretty."

Her eyes crinkled with delight, not even pretending to act bashful, and her hands moved down, first pressing over his shoulders and then dragging over his arms until they curled around his wrists. Her teeth caught her bottom lip and she batted her lashes at him again, the tips of her ears turning a soft pink.

"You want to, uh.. go for a walk?"

Ever since Lottie discovered the old, cobweb-covered bones in the attic, (Y/N) ensured to make it a point he was never going up there, especially after the girls decided to 'communicate' with the 'spirit' and the night ended with Lottie splitting her forehead open on the window after a so-called possession. He didn't believe in that sort of crap, but he wasn't about to go messing with it either.

Taissa and Shauna had taken advantage of everyone's hesitance and taken residence in the attic, leaving them with more than enough space and only the hissing wind to disturb them throughout the night. He almost envied them, but he would rather fall asleep listening to Coach Ben's snores than risk confirming that ghosts were real and haunting the only place offering them shelter.

"This place is..." (Y/N) trailed off with a sharp inhale, goosebumps rising along his arms as he soaked in the eery and desolate attic. 

It was dark, the only light pouring in coming from the two windows on either end that were far too dirty to look through, and every inch of it was covered in dust collected from however long it'd remained abandoned before they stumbled upon the cabin.

Taissa and Shauna's belongings, their luggage and blankets, were messily scattered around, the only thing that provided him with a hint of normalcy. But it was quickly chased away with unease as his eyes fell onto the symbol carved into the wooden floorboard, the same one he sometimes saw carved into the trees around the cabin. The weight of anxiety settled on his chest, threatening to cave it in. 

He wished Laure Lee had brought some sage with her.

"Romantic?" Jackie finished for him with a tilt of her head, her tone mixed with hopefulness and amusement. She clasped her hands together in front of her and let out a shallow breath, the ends of her mint dress brushing over the laces of her sneakers with each nervous sway from her hips. 

Lifting his head to look at her, he arched a brow. "Yeah, 'cause nothing screams romantic like a dusty old attic someone died in, Jackie." 

Her shoulders shook with agreeable laughter and she reached up to carefully pull the crown from her head, gently tugging and smoothing back the brown strands that'd grown tangled in the sticks.

Everything about her felt... off, as if she was a husk of the optimistic and enthusiastic girl everyone back home followed like ducklings. She looked distant, her body in the attic but her mind far away, likely back home in her old bedroom thinking about everything she could've been doing instead of starving.

"What's wrong?"

It felt dumb to ask a question like that when everything was wrong. They were stranded in the middle of the wilderness with food they had to forage or hunt for, water they had to boil, clothes they had to share and wash in lake water, and the ghosts of dead classmates haunting the edges of their minds. Laure Lee, the most faithful of them all, had died, leaving a gaping space no one could fill because no one else could replace the kind-hearted, sweet, pious girl who poured her heart into praying for them all. Her god hadn't even granted her the mercy of a peaceful death.

Jackie's jaw shifted with her teeth grinding together, jaw clenching and unclenching. "Shauna was fucking Jeff." She revealed with a bitter, shaky chuckle, her chest stuttering with a deep inhale before she spun around to face away from him. (Y/N) hoped his sharp inhale hadn't been noticeable. "My best friend was having sex with my boyfriend behind my back. My best friend is pregnant with my boyfriend's baby and- and she hasn't had the balls to tell me. All this- this fucking time I've been waiting for her to say something, anything."

The crown slipped from her fingers and her hands raised to bury her face in them, body trembling with muffled sniffles and whimpers. He winced and walked toward her, hesitating for a brief second before he placed his hands over her arms. "Hey," He murmured, gently nudging her toward the pile of blankets on the floor. "C'mon, sit down."

He'd done this dance plenty of times before that it became second nature. He always found himself cradling his sister in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head and eyes gazing into the distance as she sobbed for this or that reason, or letting his mother bury her face in his chest when the alcohol heightened her emotions instead of dulling them. He was familiar with the dance, so much so it was instinctive for him to comfort.

His arm slid around her shoulder and she crumbled into his side, her whimpers turning into hiccupped cries as she released everything she held in her chest. He dragged his thumb and forth over her arm comfortingly and pressed his cheek against the top of her head, her frizzy hair tickling his skin and smelling subtly of the flowers she'd used for her crown. 

"God, this is so- ugh." She raised her head and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks in frustration, rubbing away the blush and slightly smearing her mascara when she swiped her fingers over her eyes. Her ears turned pink, a color that crept down her cheeks and neck. "This is so embarrassing. I-I didn't bring you up here to- to cry in your arms like a baby. I-" She shook her head.

"You needed a good cry, Jackie. It's normal." (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders and squeezed her arm reassuringly, drawing her teary-eyed gaze toward him. Her features softened and she pressed her lips together until they ceased quivering with emotion. "Honestly, I'd be worried if you weren't upset." He breathily chuckled, leaning back into the blankets and staring up at the cobwebs clinging to the slanted ceiling. 

Jackie reached behind her to tug her hair free from the hairstyle she'd pulled it back into before mimicking his actions, her hair sprawling out around her in a short halo. "I.. I know it looks like I'm only interested in you because my only choices are you and Travis but I always thought you were cool."

"Cool?" He echoed with a snort and lolled his head to look at her. "Poor guys who drive beaten-up cars and always smell like popcorn are ​​​​​​your definition of cool?"

"Oh, shut up. At least it's better than dumb football players who cheat on you with your best friends." Jackie laughed and threw a gentle punch at his arm, her voice hoarse from the crying but slowly clearing up. She gave a wistful sigh and rubbed her fingertip over the smeared mascara, her eyes tracing the lines in the ceiling. The corners of her brows dipped, forming creases in her skin.

"I used to pretend I didn't know if I loved Jeff, when the truth is, I didn't even like him that much. I used to think losing your virginity was supposed to be special, and then Shauna went and lost hers to my boyfriend. It- It doesn't matter, anymore. It's all.. bullshit. Love is bullshit."

"I thought love was bullshit too once." (Y/N) told her quietly, eyes flickering past her to gaze at Taissa's things. "My dad left us when we were young. He... up and left one day and never looked back, never bothered calling or sending a letter. He just walked out and disappeared as if we didn't matter, as if my mom hadn't bent over backward trying to be a good wife. I thought that.. if it was that easy to leave your own family behind like they're nothing, then love wasn't real.. that it didn't matter."

"What changed?"

The ghost of a smile passed over his face. "I watched Van fall in love. I listened to her talk about Taissa like she- she hung the fucking stars in the sky and I watched her face light up like a kid on Christmas whenever Taissa came around. I watched them mold themselves to fit each other because they care so much that they don't want to risk doing something wrong. If Van can find that much love in Tai, I think you've got a chance, too. You matter to a lot of people, Jackie. There's still a chance we get rescued.. there's still a chance you get your happily ever after."

After a beat of silence, Jackie moved, propping herself up on one elbow and peering down at him with an unreadable look. She reached out toward him, her fingers barely grazing over his neck before she pressed her palm against his skin and leaned down to give him a close-lipped kiss, and then another.

"Maybe you can be my happily ever after." She spoke quietly, voice barely about a whisper, and kissed him again, this time an open-mouth one that smeared her bubblegum pink lipstick over his lips.

(Y/N) always considered himself too busy for girlfriends. He'd tried once in freshman year but he never managed to keep up with the dates and hanging out in between work, school, homework, and taking care of his family.

The relationship only lasted a month but he'd been able to check out the 'important' firsts everyone else fussed over during high school just to avoid the teasing from the other boys. But, be it from the time since or the chaotic situation they found themselves in, kissing Jackie felt different. 

It was a surge of emotions muddling together yet immediately overridden by an overwhelming desire to be touched, to simply be in someone's embrace and escape the harsh reality they'd been forced into. It was easy to get lost in surviving and forget about the joys of living.

He kissed her back and her body relaxed, tension he hadn't noticed fading from her muscles. Her fingers dug into his neck and pulled as she tilted herself backward to resume laying on her back, her other hand crinkling her dress with tugs until it slipped down her thighs and freed her legs. He moved over her and settled between her parted legs, feeling her hand move from his neck to clutch his arm, half her fingers pressing into the sleeve and the other half pressing into his skin. 

Almost instinctively, his hips rolled and grinded against her, pulling a shaky gasp from Jackie. She tilted her head back, her grip tightening with each grind against her most sensitive area, and her chest beginning to heave with heavy inhales of air as her legs fell further apart.

He pressed kisses to her jawline and down to her throat, the cool chain of her gold necklace pressing into his lips and leaving small imprints behind. She pushed her upper half into him when he pressed his lips against the center of her chest just above the heart charm and momentarily released him to unclasp her bra peeking out from underneath the dress. 

She tossed it aside as if she hardly cared to find it again, and perhaps she'd leave it just to irk Shauna when it'd be undoubtedly found. She pulled on the straps of her dress and then tugged firmly at it to reveal her breasts, hazel eyes darting up to study his features, hoping to find some sort of reaction that'd boost her ego, only for her eyes to flutter shut when he palmed at her. She had fading tan lines he traced with his mouth, the skin typically unexposed to the sun a paler color. 

"I-" Jackie cut herself off with a breathy sigh, back arching and naturally pushing her newly exposed chest into his face when his thumb flickered over a hardened nub. "I-I want to." She exhaled, back dropping back onto the blanket beneath them and eyelids parting again, half-lidded as if she were dazed. 

"We don't have to." He murmured, face burying into her neck briefly, seeking out warmth from another. He missed being held. 

"I want to." She repeated with a self-assured nod, the light of the setting sun peeking through the trees and pouring in through the window, lighting up the attic in a gentler light. It seemed less hostile than before. "I really do."

Nodding, he leaned back onto his knees and pulled the polo shirt off by its collar as Jackie fumbled with the button of his jeans. When his hands were free, she dropped hers and lifted her hips, tugging off her underwear and dropping it aside. He pushed his pants and underwear down enough to expose himself, a curse leaving his lips when she wrapped her fingers around him and gave a few experimental pumps. 

"Jax," He exhaled. "What if-"

"I don't care." Jackie cupped the back of his neck and pulled him downward to kiss him again, hot and needy and more teeth than tongue. "I just want you."

(Y/N) complied, teeth grazing her bottom lip as he braced himself on one arm and reached down, hearing her soft gasp as he dragged the tip along her slick folds. She swallowed thickly and placed her hands over his shoulders, her knees knocking gently against his hips. When he kissed the side of her neck, he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat. 

Jackie gasped loudly when he pushed inside and then winced, her nails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to leave imprints and features scrunching up. He gave her a moment to breathe, to adjust to the new feeling, waiting until her nails relented to push further. Soft murmurs of comfort flowed into her ear, his free hand moving up to rest over her hip and squeeze comfortingly. He knew it hurt for some during their first time, sometimes it hurt always for others. 

He took his time, pushing and waiting for her to grow used to it, swallowing groans and whimpers when she unknowingly clenched around him from the sensations. He gave one last nudge to reach the base and she pulled him into another kiss, heavily panting against his mouth and apologetically rubbing her fingertips over the countless half-moon marks she left on his skin. 

"Okay," She swallowed, blinking away the glistening in her eyes and offering a giddy smile. "I'm okay."

Slowly, he moved, trying to focus on her features as they morphed from furrowed brows trying to grow used to the feeling to ones raised with pleasure. (Y/N) shifted his weight onto his knees and propped himself slightly on them, the hand on her hip growing firm to stabilize her before he began moving quicker. The sound of skin slapping on skin mixed with the grunts and heaves and moans that slowly grew in noise and the soft squelch from where their bodies were connected. 

Jackie pulled him as close as humanely possible, her palms dragging over his back, tracing the muscles and healed scar he'd obtained during the crash. One of her hands moved downward, passing over his hip and grasping the back of his thigh, almost willing him to go deeper, to somehow melt into each other and become one. Her lips remained parted, babbled words ranging from pleas to curses interrupting the choked breaths and whiny moans. 

The heel of her sneaker dragged along his clothed calf and he breathed comforting words into her flushed cheeks, each praise drawing a whimper from the back of her throat. He kissed away the tears of pleasure that dripped from the corner of her eyes, occasionally pressing into her temple when his mind escaped him, growing foggy and needy until he forced himself to focus again. Taking someone's virginity was as big as losing it, at least in his opinion. They were having enough bad experiences as is.

"Shit!" Jackie practically squealed in his ear, her back arching off the blankets again and head tilting back. "(Y/N)-"

(Y/N) moved fully back onto his knees and grasped Jackie's hips with both hands, listening to the thud of her sneakers planting themselves on the floorboards to hold up her weight as her hands flew down to hold onto his wrists. The new position seemed to hit exactly the right spot because a few seconds later, Jackie tensed up and then cried out, her body convulsing and feet stomping onto the floor wildly. He chased after his own high, the slowly formed knot in his gut threatening to burst at any moment. 

Jackie fumbled, quivering thighs struggling to maintain her weight until he had half a mind to slip one hand under her lower back and help her up. She flung her arms around his shoulder and he moved his hold onto her thighs, helping her clumsily bounce until he suddenly released, toppling them both over onto the blankets where they went limp in a tangled mess of limbs. 

"Jesus," Jackie laughed, brushing away the strands sticking to the sweat along her hairline and giving a soft whine when he dragged himself out of her and rolled over. She reached downward to cup herself, sweaty thighs pressing together, and he turned his head away from the sight as he spurted the last of his release on his lower abdomen. "You don't think one of the girls has plan b, right?"

"If you'd said something beforehand I could've swiped one of Travis's condoms. I don't think he's even using them with Natalie." 

Jackie's head whirled around to look at him, squinting through the growing darkness in disbelief. "Travis packed condoms?"

"I guess."

(Y/N) huffed out a laugh, and then couldn't stop himself from laughing some more when Jackie began giggling at the absurdity of Travis Martinez, who hardly ever even spoke to girls at school because he was always too busy sulking, packing condoms for a trip to Seattle with his father and little brother.

Their laughter died down into coughs and snickers, slowly ceasing when they gazed at each other. Jackie stared at him with crinkled eyes and slipped her hand out from between her thighs, rubbing the mixture of fluids on her dress. 

"We should do this more often." She said, but all (Y/N) could focus on was the distant sound of guttural screaming and... howling? 

He moved immediately, nerves lighting ablaze out of fear and panic for his sister, and got dressed again, almost stumbling over his legs as he struggled with the zipper. Jackie blinked at him, hurt flashing over her face before she flinched at a closer scream and scrambled to pull her dress straps over her shoulders. 

"What the fuck is that?" 

They hurried down the ladder and into the old pantry, the light from the lit fireplace shining over the group of girls in the living room attempting to corner a frantic, wide-eyed shirtless Travis. 

"What the hell are you doing?" (Y/N) hissed, bewildered at the sight of their ragged breathing and dirtied dresses.

The girls turned their heads to look at him, their eyes wide and wild, mouths twisted up into grins or snarls. Some of them swayed as if intoxicated, and even Travis looked out of his mind as he stared at empty air and muttered quietly to himself. He stared questionably at Van but she simply turned on her heel and left with Taissa.

Lottie walked toward them, her hand flying out to grab the skirt of Jackie's dress and turning it around to peer at the patch of blood staining it. She huffed out a mocking laugh and Jackie's cheeks flared red. "Stay out of it." She sneered and shoved the brunette back, her body colliding with (Y/N)'s and forcing them back into the pantry. 

"Lottie-" 

The door rattled shut with a slam, and the lock clicking followed after. There was manic giggling and the thumping of heavy footsteps he assumed belonged to Travis, and then the shrill shrieks and shouts about 'the stag' getting away before a chorus of footsteps seemingly followed after the boy. (Y/N) could only stare at the door in disbelief.

"The hell was that?"

Jackie slammed her palms into the door, pounding against it and shouting for help until her voice grew scratchy. Her body was still struggling to retain its energy and she stepped back, panicked bursts of breaths escaping her.

Getting the wild, frantic, borderline hungry look in their eyes out of his head was hard. They flashed in his mind each time he blinked, his throat seizing with confusion and worry for Van and Travis, for the girls who looked out of their minds. For Coach Ben who was easy prey with only one working leg.

"Move." He whispered, letting Jackie step aside before he rammed his shoulder into the door repeatedly, each hit making his arm sore until it began to ache.

The door groaned and creaked with each hit, rattling violently and beginning to splinter from the force until it was forced open, its rotting age betraying it. They stumbled out of the room and (Y/N) immediately took note of the missing knife, the one used for carving meat whenever Natalie and Travis managed to hunt something good enough to eat. 

As if on cue, Natalie appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. Her outfit was disheveled and dirty, and he could only begin to imagine what she'd been doing between the time they left and then. Natalie swallowed and blinked hard, looking as if she were trying to focus her vision but something was stopping her.

"Misty-" She staggered and braced herself on the door frame. "Misty put shrooms in the stew."

Jackie groaned. "Oh, my god. Of course, she did."

"Where's Travis?" Natalie's head spun as she searched the cabin. "I-I need to talk to Travis. Where's Travis?"

(Y/N) stared at the crackling fire, watched the flames lick up the stone walls and embers disappear into the chimney to be blown up into the wind with the smoke.

Maybe it would've been better if they'd all gone up in flames, he thought. It would've been better than dealing with a bunch of idiots who were too prideful to admit any wrongdoing, even if it meant ignoring the fact they would've cut Travis's throat open if Natalie hadn't intervened in time. And now they were nowhere to be found. They were probably better of that way.

Part of him wanted to shove Misty into the fireplace so she'd stop staring at him with an accusatory glint for not saying thanks to a dead bear, to Lottie for taking the creature out of its obvious misery, to 'ancient gods' and the damn dirt. It was laughable, and yet his sister encouraged it.

Misty drugged everyone who ate the damn stew, to begin with. They should've all been blaming her and her stupid crush on a man half her age who only looked at her with discomfort and pity.

Instead, half the girls chose to gang up on Jackie after Misty loudly pointed out that neither of them had said thanks. He'd mostly tuned out the argument between Jackie and Shauna as they sneered and took jabs at each other, heated revelations and insults spewing out of their mouths in hopes of twisting the knife and plunging it deeper into each other until Jackie pointed at the door. 

"Get out." She spat, intending to sound authoritative but her voice trembled with emotion, with hurt and betrayal. Shauna remained still, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths and nostrils flaring. Jackie shoved her shoulder. "Go on, get out!" 

"No."

"I can't be around you, I-I can't even fucking look at you right now."

Shauna swallowed. "Well, that sounds like your problem. So maybe you should leave."

Jackie scoffed and turned her head to look at the others, searching their faces until her head tilted toward him. She looked at him pleadingly, her hazel hues glittering with unshed tears, from the argument or lack of support, he couldn't be sure anymore, but he heaved a sigh and stood up nonetheless. 

"Nobody's going anywhere." 

"What, are you her little attack do-"

"Shut the fuck up, Mari." His head snapped toward the long-haired girl and she flinched, once smug eyes widening. His jaw ticked. "It's no fucking wonder Danny dumped you for his cousin, you don't know when to keep your mouth shut."

Predictably, she flushed a bright red and ducked her head, strands of her dark hair falling over her face to hide the shame and humiliation that sparked across her face. Only Akilah reached out to place a comforting hand over her shoulder, but even she remained quiet. It was no secret, hell, most of the girls had laughed about it at some point. They'd be hypocrites to stand up for her, and they knew it.

"Nobody's going anywhere." He repeated, enunciating each word slowly and clearly, and locked eyes with each of them to get his point across.

Lottie looked the most relaxed, her face serene and blank, like that of a mother waiting for her children to finish a pointless argument. It was unnerving, as if a switch had flickered inside her and changed her into something completely different from the quiet girl she was once.

"Winter's almost here, if not already, and the days are getting colder. We don't know how to treat hypothermia or frostbite or anything like that, so nobody is going to risk it. I don't care if you want to dance around fire and thank the trees for your food. But we're not kids anymore, not here at least. So stop bitchin' like we're in the hallways at school and start acting like you give a shit about surviving for a little longer." 

[missdynamighttt]

Hii, I hope you had a very happy holiday and that you are well, I love the way you write! I would like to ask you for something half anguish half soft and whatever you want to add some other thing even if it is spicy.. Something where both the reader and Katsuki are both pro-heroes, The reader tries to take good care of himself during missions and avoids getting hurt so that Katsuki doesn't worry (go crazy about it) But Katsuki doesn't do the same and almost always ends up hurt and worrying the reader and this makes her upset by his lack of reciprocity.. They end up fighting for a moment but end up reconciling. I hope it's not too much to ask, bye, kisses🙏

hi hun!! hope you had a very happy holiday too<333 that means SO much to me, thank you lots!! its not too much at all, i hope this met your expectations and i hope you enjoy it. byeee, kisses <333 (disclaimers: handjob in a hospital, nipple play, mentions of breeding kink, calls you mommy, switch katsuki (gets really subby in the end))

katsuki was on his bed in the infirmary, covered in bandages and scratches. he had gotten himself injured again during a battle with a villain.

you walked into the room, face filled with anger and concern. you quickly made your way towards his bed and looked at him, obviously frustrated.

"my fucking god, katsuki.."

katsuki looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and guilt. he knew he had upset you by getting injured again this badly but that didn't matter to him.

"what? i'm fine."

you tried to blink back your tears as they threatened to escape, lips curled into a stubborn frown. "you look anything but fine."

katsuki rolled his eyes, still trying to act nonchalant about his injuries. "i've had worse. you know that. i'll heal up in no time."

he huffed slightly as he attempted to shift his position on the bed, causing a small wave of pain to shoot through him, but too stubborn to show you his signs of pain.

"we have the same damn job," you snapped, holding his arm and helping him up. your eyes narrowed, words filled with irritation and worry. but you don't see me acting like a reckless idiot, do you? i may get a few scrapes and bruises, but i don't look like I've just stumbled out of a warzone."

"i'm not acting reckless. 'm just doing my damn job," katsuki grumbled as he grudgingly allowed you to help him. "and besides, you're always avoiding getting hurt. you never take any risks, so it's no fuckin' surprise you don't get hurt."

you widened your eyes at him in disbelief, shaking your head in frustration. "no risk?"

"yeah, no risk. you always play it safe, you never take any chances, you always avoid fighting any shitty villains that might be too damn dangerous..." katsuki trails off, noticing the look on your face and realizing that he might've struck a nerve.

"playing it safe? is that what you assume i do to prioritize my fucking life?" you let out a scoff of disbelief, lips twisting up in a sarcastic smile. "is that what you think I do when I try to protect myself, so that you don't have to add my name to your growing list of worries?"

katsuki's expression softened slightly. he knew deep down that she was right, but he wasn't ready to admit it.

"it's not about that. it's about getting the job done. sometimes that means taking risks."

"excuse you. i get the job done just fine. at least i don't look like i've been trampled on by a hundred fucking bulls."

"yeah, well, at least i'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

katsuki knew that was a low blow even as he said it, but his pride was too wounded to backtrack now.

your emotions finally breaking through the facade of toughness as you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"damn it, katsuki," your voice cracked slightly. "all i'm asking is to keep yourself safe. do you even realize how much it hurts me, seeing you injured over and over again, knowing i can't do anything about it? its like.. you don't care. then you go ahead and insult how i do my job and..."

kasuki's expression softened further as he saw the tears in your eyes. he knew he messed up.

"sweets, i... i didn't mean what i said. you're great, okay? the damn best. i just.. wanna do my damn job. i don't want to hold back and let someone get away with shit because i was being too careful."

you let out a huff of frustration, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"doing your job properly doesn't mean throwing your life away, katsuki. what if something happens again, and.."

your pause as tears welled up your eyes, finally rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall. you tried to wipe them away, movements aggressive as your sniffles growing louder despite the attempts to keep them silent.

katsuki watched as you wiped away your tears, guilt gnawing at him. it was a sight that never failed to clench his heart. he reached out and gently gripped your arm, pulling you closer by the edge of the bed. "hey, c'mon. don't... cry, dammit."

"i'll be fine, i always do," he continued, his voice softer than usual. he crooks his finger to tilt your head up at his gaze. "even if i look like i got trampled on by a hundred fuckin' bulls."

he repeated your words back to you with a small grin. you huffed when you realized he was trying to lighten the mood, giving his arm a gentle nudge as you pouted at him.

"i... i can't lose you. not again, katsuki," you sniffled, lower lip trembling slightly as you kept your emotions in check. "okay?"

katsuki's smirk faded as he heard the raw vulnerability in your voice, the memories flooding his brain back when he almost lost his...

"sweets... i'm not going anywhere, okay?" he repeated, his voice serious now. "i promise." he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

you huff, calming down in his arms a little as you appreciate the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his steady breathing.

meanwhile, katsuki held you close, feeling your body relax against his. with a sigh, he buries his face in your hair, taking solace in the feeling of your in his arms. he hated seeing you upset, and he hated himself for being the cause of it.

"i'm sorry."

"hmph. you better be."

you sigh as katsuki chuckled slightly, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending a shiver down his spine.

"i am. i won't be so reckless next time. i'll be more careful, i promise."

"if you don't?"

"if i don't? what, you'll come kick my ass yourself?"

"katsuki."

katsuki takes a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, looking up and his gaze fixed on you.

"if i don't..." he begins, tucking a strand of hair behind your hair. "i just won't. i don't want to put you through that again. i'll keep my word. for you, sweets. okay?"

you nod, your pout giving way to a more relaxed expression as you sank deeper into his embrace. you were a little more relaxed now that he gave you the reassurance you needed. he just needed to recover, and then—

you suddenly felt a slight shiver run through your body as you register the feeling of katsuki's lips on your neck.

katsuki grins when he noticed your slight surprise, continuing to place soft kisses along your neck, pausing occasionally to nibble on your earlobe.

"you worry too much, you know that?" he whispered in between kisses.

"only because i care about you..." you breathe, your voice a little breathless as you leaned into his touch. you really, really couldn't hide the effect his touch had on you.

katsuki's smirk returned as he heard you gasp, the sound sending a wave of heat through his body. he moved his mouth to your jawline, trailing kisses along your skin.

"i know you care about me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "and as much as i love seein' you get all feisty when you're worried about me... i promise i'll be more careful from now on."

"okay...good," you hum softly as he continued peppering kisses down your body. "glad we.. cleared that up."

katsuki chuckles, his lips still against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "yeah, we did."

you had to bite your bottom lip when he moved his lips, nipping at your collarbone. "and now that we have that settled..."

"there's somethin' else i'd like to do."

your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what he was hinting at, heat spreading across your cheeks. "w-wait—"

katsuki grinned again when he noticed how bashful you were getting. he loved it when he could get you all flustered like this.

"what?" his lips hovering near your ear. "you don't want to?"

you shook your head, your desire warred with concern. there was a part of you that wanted to give in to the moment, but practical senses prevailed. he was still recovering from his injuries, and you weren't about to risk his health for an orgasm.

"i..." you began, voice shaky with a mixture of desire and reluctance. "yes, i want to... but not here. and not while you're still recovering, dammit."

katsuki pouted slightly, clearly disappointed. but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

"tch, fine. but don't blame me if i start goin' crazy from recovery boredom."

he paused, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "although... i could think of a few ways you could keep me entertained while i recover."

you tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. "like?"

"well... you could start by just cuddlin' with me while i rest," he teased, his voice low and suggestive, tugging you closer to the bed so that you could cuddle him. "or maybe you could give me a few kisses here and there... you know, to help me heal faster."

"oh?" you smile, scooting over the bed and snuggling up to him. "did the doctor approve of that?"

"doctors are overrated," he says in mock-offense as he wraps an arm around you. "they all say the same things. rest and fluids, blah, blah, blah. where's the fun in that?"

"besides..." he leaned in closer with a grin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "who needs a doctor's approval when i have a beautiful woman like you to take care of me?"

you scoff, nudging his arm softly and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. "as much as i'd love to take care of you, i'm scared we might get caught."

"what, afraid of getting caught in the act?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "come on, it'll be fun."

he could tell you were still reluctant. so, he pulled you even closer, his hands roaming up your hips and resting on your waist, his lips brushing your ear when he spoke. "we'll be discreet, i promise. just a few kisses... no one will ever know."

"i'd rather if you just focus on recovering."

"a few kisses ain't gonna set me back. i'm fine, sweets. i heal fast, remember?"

"then, if you heal fast, i doubt you need me to kiss you, right?"

"you think i can't handle a few kisses, is that it?"

you grin at his pout and shrug. "i think you can't. because then you're going to take it too far."

katsuki rolled his eyes, mock-offended. "i have no idea what you're talkin' about. i'm a saint."

he leaned back against the pillows, narrowing his eyes at your reluctant gaze and giggles. "besides, i'm in no condition to do anything strenuous right now. a few innocent kisses won't hurt."

you huff, exhaling in a soft sigh as your pout deepens. your eyes flicker to his, searching for any kind of reassurance. you didn't want to set back his recovery by going too far but who were you to deny him the kisses he needs? "you promise?"

"a few innocent kisses, that's it. no funny business, no getting carried away," he paused, reaching out to take your hand, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "just a few little kisses to keep me entertained while i recover."

after a moment, you gave in with a sigh, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"fine..." you muttered, your tone a little sulky.

but your gaze flickered to him, your narrowed eyes meeting his with a hint of heat. slowly, you lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat as you prepare to initiate the kiss.

katsuki grins as he tilted his head slightly to meet you halfway, his eyes closing in anticipation.

"that's more like it," he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

katsuki reached up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles along your skin as he closed the distance between your lips.

the moment your lips met his, he let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. it was slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the usual.. passionate embraces.

but the kiss deepens and katsuki starts to get lost in the moment, you can feel him getting more aggressive and intense. sensing that he's starting to lose control, you give his bicep a gentle but firm squeeze, signaling him to slow down. it acts like an anchor, reminding him to keep his desire in check.

katsuki feels your squeeze on his bicep and realizes that he's getting carried away. he breaks the kiss, panting for air as he tries to regain control of himself.

he looks at you with dilated eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily. "f-fuck.. 'm sorry.. i got carried away..."

you chuckle breathlessly, your own heart racing. you try to reassure him with a soft, affectionate smile on your lips. "it's okay... i liked it."

"damn it. me too. maybe a little too much," he sighs, glancing down at himself and groans at the tent in his pants. "fuck, you're not making this easy. you know how hard it is for an injured pro-hero like me to resist his gorgeous girl? and i'm supposed to be recovering, remember?"

"oh? who insisted on the kisses, smartass?"

"hey, you're the one who agreed to it."

"weirdo," you tease, poking his side gently. "want me to..?"

katsuki's breathing hitches at you looking down at his lap. he knew he should resist. he needed to recover. but the sight of you, looking at his raging boner, and imagining what you'd look like taking care of it, is almost too much for him to handle.

"don't tease me like that, woman. you know what the answer is."

you glance down to admire the obvious tent in his pants, the evidence of his desires clear as day. you can't help but bite your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush of heat as something aches in between your legs.

"okay," you whisper, reaching down for the waistband of his pants. "just keep quiet f'me, okay?"

katsuki nods, his eyes locked on you as you reach for underneath his boxers. he feels his breath catch in his throat, his body tensing in anticipation.

"yeah.." he breathes, his voice strained. "i'll be quiet..."

katsuki watches as you touch him, his eyes darkened with desire as he feels your hand wrap around his cock, his body already responding to your touch.

"fuck... fuck, you're so hot.." he manages to say, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

you laugh softly, looking up at him, thumbing the tip of his cock thats leaking with pre. "yeah? you think i'm hot, katsuki?"

"mhm.. so hot.." he nods, his breath coming in ragged pants. he closes his eyes, his head falling back against the pillows as he sinks further into the bed. "f-fuck.. feels so good.. keep goin', sweets, fuck.."

katsuki's hips instinctively buck up into your touch, trying to get even more friction. he grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to keep himself quiet.

you chuckle breathlessly, biting down your bottom lip as you slowly fuck your fist on his cock, purposefully slowing down. "you're not keeping quiet, katsuki. what if someone hears us, hm?"

"fuck, you can't do that to me.. don't tease me like that.." he lets out a strangled moan, unable to hide how needy he is for you. he bites down on his lip, trying to muffle his noise. "i'm tryna be fuckin' quiet, i swear.. but it's gettin' really fuckin' hard.. just keep going.."

you smile, a small, sassy grin that dances across your lips. yu shake your head lightly, titling it to one side as you wrap your fist tighter around his cock. "do you need my help to shut you up, hm?"

katsuki nods, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. "yeah. please.. please, i can't keep quiet on my own. i need you.. i need you to shut me up with your tits..."

you stop stroking him a little to shift positions, maneuvering yourself so that he is lying on your lap and his face on your chest. his head rests on your thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours as you reach out again to stroke him.

"so needy, sweetheart," you tease in a soft murmur, your fingers tantalizing on his cock as you look down at him.

"hmph," he huffs as his hand slips under your shirt, tugging it up quickly before his fingers warm against your skin as they brush against your stomach. it's not like he could tell you that you were wrong.

katsuki tugs gently on your bra, his intentions clear as his eyes lock onto yours. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your bra down, your tits spilling from the fabric, hard nipples already meeting the cold air and his hot breath.

it doesn't take long before katsuki's mouth immediately latches onto your nipple, moaning softly against the skin as his tongue swirls around your areola.

"you taste so good," he groaned, his other hand touches your neglected breast, rough and insistent as they knead and massage the doughy mound, pinching your nipple. "fuck, sweets.. wanna make you a mommy. get these gorgeous tits swollen with milk..."

"yeah?" a small, sheepish smile plays on your lips as you try to find your words. but it's hard to think clearly, hard to even form a sentence when he's getting handsy with your tits, feeling your cunny clenching with need. "you wanna make me a mommy, sweetheart?"

"yeah," he breathes, his cock twitching with precum as you stroke him. "i wanna put a baby in you. wanna fill you up and get you all nice and pregnant for me. you want that, right?"

your cheeks heat up as he gets more aggressive with your tits, his hands continuing to caress you. "yeah, maybe. so?"

"yeah? you'd like it if i knocked you up, mommy?"

you let out a soft moan, your body arching involuntarily as you try to process the pet-name. whenever he got subby, which was rarely, it always caught you off-guard. you wanted to deny how much it affected you as he caresses you, nibbling on your nipples like a man possessed.

"katsuki... i thought i told you to keep quiet.."

you clicked your tongue at him, your hand moving up and down his cock faster, purposely toying with him. he whines at the change of pace, his head dropping back against your plush thighs before he presses his face against your chest to muffle his moans.

"fuck... i'm sorry, mommy, i'm sorry," katsuki whimpers against your nipples, his tone almost whining and pleading as he looks up at you. "i'll keep quiet, i promise..."

"it's a shame, really," you murmur. "with how loud you are, now i'm thinking if i should even let you cum."

"no, no. need to cum, i'll be so quiet, i promise," katsuki gasps out, sucking your tits sore in between his pleas as he humps your fist.

"don't stop.. i'll be a good boy, just let me cum, mommy-"

"yeah? you think you deserve to after what you did?"

"im sorry alreadyyy," he moans, his voice cracking as he begs. it's hard to believe he's a tough, powerful pro-hero known for how aggressive he is. all brought down to a whimpering, whiny looking mess for you. "fuck, fuck, i'll do whatever you want... just please let me cum. please, mommy.."

katsuki looked like a little boy who wanted his favorite toy as he fondles your tits. he's desperate, he's needy, he's your whining, jacked boyfriend who just wants to cum.

and who were you to deny him what he wants?

"it's okay, baby," your voice is a sultry purr as you look down at him. "since you've been begging real good f'me, you can cum.."

katsuki's eyes flutter shut at your approval, a soft, guttural moan leaving his lips. he's close, so close that it's almost painful, and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. "shit.. sh-shit, thank you, m-mommy... fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' cum, shit-"

he bucks his hips into your hips one last time before trembling beneath your touch, shaking as his cum shoots down your fists, his cock twitching from the release.

you grin as you pump your fist on his cock, helping him ride out his high. your fingers linger on him for awhile before you pull away, licking your fingers off of his slick.

but someone still needed you. katsuki sat up and pulled you closer and he grabs your face in his hands, his lips crashing into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. he kisses you like he needs you more than air, like he'll die without your touch. he doesn't even care if he's being needy. he just wants you, and only you.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, panting for air as he presses his forehead against yours. "fuck," he mutters against your lips, his voice rough and ragged. "that was... shit, i don't know what to say." he chuckles breathlessly.

"well..." you start with a cheeky grin, your fingers running through his hair. "you could start by saying thank you."

he huffs out a laugh, a tired smile spreading across his face. he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo that he just loves. "thank you, baby. you're perfect, you know that? so goddamn perfect."

you bask in the moment, smiling warmly as you revel in the comfort of the cuddle. his warm, firm body against yours feels like home, and you feel content and complete in his arms.

in that moment, you feel completely content and at peace, as if nothing else in the world matters besides the two of you. you press yourself against him, a silent reassurance that he's here, he's real, and he's all yours.

[thesoulspulse]

Danny Phantom Randomness (The Family Man)

Haven't made one of these in a while, but what better way to start off the new year? So this idea really hit me hard while working on one of my fanfics (plus a christmas movie I watched) and I started thinking about a timeline where Vlad was just your normal everyday guy. No powers, no fancy gadgets, no expensive suits, and nothing close to billions in dollars in his bank account.

In this AU, Vlad did end up marrying Maddie too but also became a work-at-home dad to support her dreams and help her move on after the accident with the proto-portal. This time, Maddie got upset with Jack and both she and Vlad tried to warn him not to turn it on. Furious, she threatened to storm out but as usual he didn't listen though. But instead of standing there like an idiot in front of the damn thing, Vlad managed to dodge the blast and it hit Jack who was right behind him. Jack runs off but Vlad stays behind to check on Maddie who collapses to her knees, sobbing because she blames herself for what just happened since she never meant for anyone to get hurt, especially not her best friends.

Vlad consoles her and against his better judgement they try to make amends with Jack at the hospital, however, feeling ashamed and being as stubborn as a mule he refuses to let anyone see him. Devastated, Maddie gives up researching ghosts altogether and in an effort to keep her from spiraling into a terrible depression Vlad suggests she switch her major, promising to support her no matter what. And he does just that. Giving up his tuition money to help her get into an even better college and working odd jobs to pay for his apartment now that he didn't have a roommate anymore.

Eventually Vlad and Maddie start dating after she graduates with honors, get married, and have two kids together. She's become a successful business woman while Vlad finally achieves his dream of becoming a husband and father. Problem is...he doesn't remember any of it because it all happened to a different person!

One day, Vlad wakes up in an unfamiliar house with someone nudging his shoulder, telling him the kids will be late for school if he doesn't get up. He's shocked and delighted to find out that the person in question is Maddie, his beloved college crush. That joy transforms into confusion but Vlad doesn't have time to worry about that and uses his quick wit to play along so she doesn't suspect anythings wrong. After that, for obvious reasons, Vlad tests to still see if he has his ghost powers intact and of course the answer is no. It bothers him at first, and he becomes quite a klutz himself when it comes to certain everyday things. However, apart from having a beautiful wife Vlad is also happy to discover Danny doesn't treat him like the enemy anymore. At least, no more than most teenagers do.

This gives Vlad the chance to get to know Danny as a person, not the son of his former best friend Jack. Its unfortunate neither of them have ghost powers anymore but strangely enough, just having Danny smile at him awkwardly from time to time more than makes up for it. Meanwhile Jazz is on the debate team at Casper High and his wife Maddie owns her own business while their home is, unfortunately, a bad knockoff of Fentonworks called Masterworks where he's a mechanic that mostly repairs computers and such so neither of them really keeps anything there that reminds them of how they used to research ghosts.

For the most part Vlad's new life isn't bad despite not having money to burn and it feels like Maddie's gone all the time. It gets lonely sometimes despite being married, but he makes the most of it until one day Jack suddenly shows up after years of isolation and kidnaps Jazz and Danny! Powerless to stop it himself and knowing he can't go to the police, Vlad hurries to tell Maddie during an important business meeting at her company. He can't exactly tell her how he knows about ghost powers, relying purely on their shared passion on the subject of the paranormal back in college, but to his surprise she seems unphased by the whole thing.

That means its up to Vlad to stop Jack without very good weapons and no powers to get their kids back because again, the police can't do anything against someone with ghost powers. The thing is, Maddie isn't totally wrong about Jack since he doesn't want to hurt the kids. He just wants to duke it out with Vlad because he blames him for his life being so lonely and miserable, which is ironic.

He does his best to stop Jack with a weaker version of the Plasmius Maximus that he haphazardly made out of computer parts that can only short out ghost powers for a few minutes, but unfortunately Jack's still a tank in his own right and knocks Vlad to the ground. After that, somehow Danny unties himself and his sister and once she's somewhere safe enough to call for help he runs back in and tries to shield Vlad, who is barely clinging to consciousness. As for Jack, seeing Vlad all battered and bruised he thinks this should make him feel better but it doesn't. It makes him feel worse after realizing, he just kidnapped two innocent kids to get back at someone who tried to fix things between them, yet Jack was the one who refused to let him all these years...

The last thing Vlad sees after that is Danny's tear-streaked face, pleading with him not to die and talking about all the things they wanted to do together. Things like visiting the local planetarium, stargaze some more on the rooftop, go fishing on Lake Eerie, teach him to drive a stick shift, and go to the next Packers game together. Vlad attempts to comfort his son, accidentally calling him his little badger which isn't a thing in this timeline, then everything goes dark.

Vlad wakes up in his Egyptian cotton sheets and silk pajamas, a freshly ironed suit ready and waiting for him in the closet and the smell of his favorite cologne hanging in the air. He's home. Yet, it doesn't feel like home. For the first time in years Vlad truly feels how empty and cold these halls are without the warmth of a friendly face to greet him in the morning. And even when he had a version of Maddie all to himself, she wasn't the woman he fell in love with, just a stranger who only cared about her career rather than her family.

Then Vlad remembers Danny's face in those final moments before this dream or whatever he had just experienced abruptly ended. There was so much love there, fear of losing his father, and the familiar determination of the original Danny to protect his loved ones whether he was strong enough to or not. Now, having experienced something similar himself, Vlad finally understands what that feels like. How it feels to put someone else first before anyone else.

Eventually this leads up to Vlad showing up one day in Danny's bedroom, looking around at all the little things that hint at what loves and what his hobbies are. It makes Vlad realize, he doesn't really know Danny at all. Not the boy he is anyway, just another hybrid Vlad assumed they'd instantly share a deep connection with because of their shared trauma. Of course, when Danny does finally show up he assumes Vlad's up to no good and is ready for a fight when Vlad shocks him by asking if they can just...talk. He's suspicious at first, seriously considering refusing to do anything, but there's something in Vlad's eyes he can't quite place. Almost like, for the first time, this brilliant man seemed lost.

I could go on but I think you get the idea. Phew, I'm glad I finally got this out of my system because it really had a death grip on me today lolz. Hope you enjoyed reading it! Oh and feel free to borrow this idea for fanart or your own story if it inspires you. I'd do it myself, however, in this new year of 2025 I REALLY want to try and fully complete a couple stories before writing anything new even as a short story/oneshot.

[atangledfate]

People tended to remember him as there were not many Albino Cobras in the medical field. Funny enough most ended up soldiers, or in less then legal occupations. But he always had a love for medicine, and wanted to help others. It was what brought he and dawn together and why they worked so hard during the war to save lives. They still did it now, course back then Dawn was just a dumb kid who needed something to keep her focused. He was happy she got her nursing degree after the war was over.

" My apologies, normally couples take each others surname i suppose i assumed. Well, no matter if you have some medical training lots from the airship have minor injuries. Just speak with Head Nurse Dawn she'll show you to the room and help if you need it... "

Lanolin was walking toward the main desk with Surge as she glanced over to her. Well Surge wasn't wrong but in a situation like this she probably had no choice. Lots of folks hurt, and only a short number of people to help. She knew Dawn was good at her job, good enough to get the gruff old snakes approval.

" She probably feels like she doesn't have a choice. She's one of the only ones qualified, and look at all these injured people from the airship. Sometimes we do what we have to even if we push ourselves to the limit..."

The Mouse met up with Surge and Lanolin with a big smile having overheard the conversation to a degree. She was rather short, being barely taller then Jewel was. She had a rather cheery smile despite how bad things were, and a 23 on her outfit marking her as the 23rd clone made.

" Awww, that's so sweet Miss Surge! no worries here! our upper limit is around one hundred! though we start to get pretty confused around 60 or so... its alot of information to process and we share brain power! "

Lanolin was really shocked by that number, even if each clone had no powers. in terms of raw numbers that meant dawn could easily overwhelm an enemy if she had to. So 40 was, what? a casual jog for her? Sometimes she was amazed by people's gifts, and felt like her own Sonikinesis was rather on the weak side.

" I see, well just take care of yourself Dawn. But we are here on business, is Jewel here? No one has seen her and i'm really getting worried about her. "

Dawn checked her tablet and looked rather concerned as she looked backup to Lanolin with a meek look. She shook her head no as she didn't have a record of her in the infirmary at all.

" Sorry... she wasn't with the injured... and none of us have seen her. Maybe she went back to her office? or with all the debris from the air ship... i hope she isn't out there someplace..."

Lanolin looked over to Surge but she was already on the move. She crossed her arms looking down at the floor wondering where she could be. What could have happened? if she was hurt someplace they needed to find her... and fast.

============nearly 30 minutes earlier ==========

The ache in her skull woke her, long before anything else had. She struggled around to get herself woke up feeling a hand on her shoulder telling her to stay still. She tried to and yet, her memory rushed back to her! the Airship was going down, vector and the others were heading to the infirmary when--- she saw the airship starting to crash. It was close to the prison and she wanted to be sure no one was there or hurt. She found two people in the cell, those two brutes but even they didn't deserve to be left alone.

She had unlocked the cell when one of them grabbed her, and yanked her inside! They had taken advantage of her kidnness! those brutes! Yet as her eyes focused she could see the front of the prison had caved in, something must have hit it and--- no they didn't attack her they'd saved her from being crushed.

" Rough? Tumble? ugg... my head... "

She was looking at the two Skunks, probably plotting some plan in the back of there head. Yet they didn't have to save her, maybe because she'd tried to let them out? Or maybe they weren't all bad deep down inside.

" Did... you... save me? i--- thank you..."

However it didn't change the fact---they were pretty trapped inside the building now. the exit she came in was caved in, and the cell itself was pretty sturdy. It looked like they had tried to dig out but hadn't had much luck.

Gaia... of all the people to rescue her from certain death... she never expected it to be THEM! Maybe they saw her as a bargaining chip or, she liked to think they weren't nearly as bad as people thought. They were no good sure, but maybe... just maybe even they didn't like idea of killing someone or letting someone die.

She didn't know... but she was sure they'd be rather forward with it soon enough.

"Grimrose is my wife's last name. You can just call me Twist seeing as I don't got a last name myself, at least one I haven't gone out and searched for." Twist didn't know his birth parents, and never stuck with the last name of those who adopted him, nor did he take his wife's last name despite her best efforts, so he was just Twist, plain and simple. "I doubt it as I was clear for active duty, so I was stuck in a shelter helping out where I could, though it don't matter." It was a mute subject right now as he's seen lots of faces in his life.

"Well, I ain't no doctor, though I do have the bare basic's of medical training. Got anyone with just a few cuts or scrapes I can take them off your hands." Twist was by far from the level of a doctor or a military medic, though he knew a thing or two. Enough to deal with the small problems to let the more experienced deal with the bigger ones.

"Well, I guess she should be careful not to deal with burnout right now. I see a lot so if she's stretching herself thin she may want to dial it back before she hits her limit." Surge wasn't sure if her powers was the same as someone who had a natural ability, though if it was close to what she had then burnout wasn't fun. That said, she did notice the glare from the doctor, though only rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to do a run around the base, see if I can spot Jewel before heading up to the command center. I'm not sure why, just got a feeling it wouldn't hurt." Surge wouldn't wait for Lanolin to respond as she swiftly dashed out of the room to do a once over of the base. Not like it'll take long with someone of her speed.

[somefishycat]

WIP Wednesday 1/1/2025

Staying caught up so far, possibly because the WIPs I got the most requests for (particularly 5 Years, which I started publishing this weekend!) are also the ones my brain wants to write right now. Sentences and Bead Flapjack under cut:

marble wall 2 for @balthazarusrex @skarabrae-stone

Hunter points to something in a large box. Luz picks a dark piece of cloth out of it, holding it pinched between two fingers like something gross. She says something Gus can't hear, and Hunter responds. Gus leaves them to whatever that's about. They'll tell him later, if it's important. He needs to shop for himself!

marble wall 3 for @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

She leads the way back to the living room, looking behind her several times to see that everyone is following. She stops at the body lying on the floor, staring down at it for a long moment. “Okay, so, I know you said you wanted to go directly in the ground, and I respect that, but can I make a suggestion?”

ones left behind for @eriquin @catboy-jupiter @zyrafowe-sny @sweetbeanma @aparticularbandit

@tamsinswriting

Eber crawls forward, trying to reach the beast's face without being torn to shreds. It's flatter than most avians; Eda does not have a beak like many feathered demons do. She does, quite clearly, have a full set of teeth. Several sets of teeth? Sharp. He hooks an arm around her neck. The feathers are long and thick here, nearly as long as flight feathers. Pulling them out would hurt her. Eber tries to be gentle, but, well. Holding a beast’s head still when they're trying to kill you is difficult to do gently. “You're okay,” Raine says. “Just drink this. We're trying to help you.” The beast jerks her head away again, and several long feathers fall out, some of them still ending in tiny droplets of blood. Shit. This isn't going to work. Eber tries to back away from the sharp teeth, and— Her eyes. Her eyes catch the light and reflect it back at him, pupils huge like a nocturnal creature in the dark.

5 Years for @wizisbored @kalira @whimsicalmeerkat @sarosthewizarddude @twyrewolf

@auburnlaughter @asha10100101010 @nonbinary-octopus

JUICE: hi dr cass i have questions … CASS: You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. What do you want to know? JUICE: uh you said i'm supposed to explore how will i know what to do i don't think i know very much … CASS: Maybe you're not aware of it yet, but I promise you, everything you need to know is all in your brain already. Thousands of people worked very hard for more than a decade to make sure you were fully prepared for this mission. We’ll still be here to help as much as we can, of course, but you’ve noticed how long it takes to communicate with Earth. At some point you'll have to make decisions on your own. You’ll do fine. You passed all the tests years ago. [Article: Juice aces Callisto flyby test] JUICE: huh i don't really remember that very well like the information is there if i think about it. like part of me remembers zoomin through space past callisto but its like fragmented and weird like i was there and i didn't know why and i didn't think anything was wrong even though i knew it was impossible i wasn't awake then is that what dreaming is like? i guess if i could literally do it in my sleep it'll be fine next question: why? why jupiter … [Cass infodumps about icy moons and their potential for life] JUICE: holy SHIT you're a nerd

Bead Flapjack for @tildeathiwillwrite @stonemaskedtaliesin

Before and after photos, as usual. I... should probably have been using some sort of form to work around this whole time, I don't know how I feel about the shape of that crest now, but oh well. I think I just need a few more rows before I can split it into two points.

[blookmallow]

so much blood on your hands you're gonna drown in it

[dykedvonte]

wanted to say I appreciate your nuanced takes on MW and especially Curly. i don't get the claim that the fandom is full of Curly apologists when majority (esp yt and tiktok) say he's worse than Jimmy. Yes there's commentary about bro culture defending people, he def messed up in trying to placate Jimmy (tbh "we'll fix this" sounded more like trying to keep someone prone to outbursts like Jim calm and not hurt Anya/himself) but I don't think he did nothing to help Anya, since she continued to confide in him and he had less than a week to resolve it before the crash (I also don't get everyone saying he knew for ages when it seems like Anya told him that same week). I get Jimmy's a pos but saying stuff like Curly should've known he'd crash the ship or that Jim had a criminal record he ignored, reducing them to obviously horrible villain and willfully ignorant sidekick feels like a disservice to the game. If your best friend turned out to be horrible, what would you do in a confined space in the span of a few days to respond? I'd say some of the horror comes from trying to do good but ultimately failing, Curly's state after the crash is meant to be tragic horror not revenge/punishment

Thank you and this is what I want to get across.

A lot of information we have to supplement when it comes to how long things have been happening on this current ship. I think people try to add on to the horror and negligence by making things more obvious so it can feel like it was easier to avoid when, true to life, its not. Jimmy clearly didn't deserve or appreciate what Curly did for him in getting him the job, but do you think if Jimmy was that big of a menace on Earth he would've given him a position where he could have that level of power over people's lives? There's something in the fact he specifically chose to pick a position so close to himself where he could watch Jimmy.

I hate the bro code argument because that is a whole can of worms people really don't get. That sort of mentality is born from the general respect and preference of male matter over female ones. Curly is clearly not that guy, he is absent minded about the issue and inadvertently dismissive but he clearly believes Anya, he just can't understand what she's going through. It's an onslaught of information that no one really reacts right to. Additonally, the entire discussion of her assualt plays to heavy into the idea that there is fault outside of the perpertratior when it comes to SA. It's too close if she only did this or if Curly had protected her better but the fact of the matter is Jimmy did what he did. He did it before any of the conversations with Anya about it and it's why her behavior seemed to change so drastically in those last two days.

He has other conflicting thought and while his role as a Captain should've taken over, people act like it's not a very human thing to have such a toxic presence cloud your judgement. It is never easy to separate friend from coworker once that connection is formed, you want to help them, especially if they were friend first and for a long while like in this case. It's not right, but people act like it would be easy when the game clearly points out that no choice is easy to make, especially when you have to make it for more than one person. You have the weigh the consequences, look at all the options and make a plan. People can headcanon and decide how long things where happening, but if we look at what we were presented through the characters eyes, the only person given time to do that was Jimmy.

He waited two months after the crash to appoint himself Captain. Every time a problem was brought up he immediately took action and refused to sit on it and find a better solution. I think it's important to look at the warped way Jimmy takes initiative where Curly didn't as it works as a good contrast of why you don't just run in to "fix" things. The quickest and easiest option may not be the safest or most beneficial. I think some thoughts on the game suffer from the black and white thinking the game doesn't operate on along with us being voyeurs. We see what exactly led to what but the characters don't. They don't have the hindsight and foresight we do and even ours is scrambled by the non-linear story telling.

Like it's hard to talk abuou those grey zones without sounding like an apologist because you're explaining why taking responsibility isn't easy. It's not and it's weird to act like it would be in a scenerio that led up to the events of the game knowing what we know. We see all these characters in such isolated moments with various things before, in between, after and even during we aren't privy too. The idea that Jimmy is worse than Curly heavily banks on the words Jimmy was saying to Jimmy before he crashed the ship. That whatever happened on the ship was his responsibility to bare, which is true due to his position. But, are they not still not responsible for taking the actions Curly then must bare?

Like i feel like people think that these are situation that become easier with age or when you are in a postion of authority and they aren't. You don't lose your biases or gain some sudden knowledge that makes it easier. It just becomes more tiring as you keep dealing with it. I would be first in line to say Curly fucked up and should've done more but the idea he knew how bad it could get or he really saw the worst in the people around him and ignored it pretty much ignores a huge aspect of his character and the game.

[sukibenders]

Looking back at Girl Meets World, it will forever irritate me especially for how they handled/treated Angela. Oh this show really hated black women because how do you not only 1.) describe her, one of (correct me if I'm wrong) only few black and MAIN characters of the og show, as a "concept" 2.) have characters show obvious disgust at the small mention of her name 3.) depict her as a homewrecker for a new relationship that, really, shouldn't have ever happened 4.) have her old friends treat her like dirt and her old lover like she is the root of his problems, when there was nothing but positive love there 5.) reuse all the concepts from said previous love story just to elevate the new ship with a yte woman and 6.) compare her to Hurricane Katrina, one of the deadliest hurricanes that caused significant numbers of death, harm, misplacement, and trauma to people, largely of whom were black? Mind you, all these points I mentioned were toward the only main black character of the OG show before the spinoff, and the only, from what I can remember, black female character of the spinoff who didn't even stay long. Not even getting into the racist drama with some of the members on set, but you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that the way the show handled Angela, her story, and her relationship with the other characters + Shawn wasn't fucking disrespectful, you can't because I won't believe you.

[phantajam]

my hot take about descendants is that NONE of the core four were ready for a relationship until maybe like, the third movie (rant in tags)

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

My ex is at it again

[waheedawolf]

.

[coulsonlives]

.

[weezerlvr228]

It's giving the...main character syndrome. like who tf does she think she is??? Y/N???

NO OH MY GOSH ANON. LET ME TELL YOU. LET ME FRIGGIN TELL YOU.

[ckret2]

who wants a prism break?

So, the Theraprism! The Theraprism sucks, right?

This is like, a good day.

The Theraprism clearly sucks.

Have a one shot of Bill escaping Theraprism with the most desperate escape plan imaginable: reincarnation.

(Warning for, as you might expect, psychiatric hospital abuse.)

####

There are fates worse than death. Like boredom, for instance!

####

Everything was black and numb and silent and cold so so cold but no he could only call it cold if he felt cold and Bill didn't feel coldness there was just the absence of a feeling the absence of heat the absence of light the absence of sound the absence of touch the absence of air.

The absence of everything.

Bill had loved a void once—a micro black hole. Every time they touched it slowly killed him, spaghettified his limbs, drained his energy. His energy was so vast that she never claimed a drop of a drop of a drop of his reserves—but it still hurt like nothing else to be crushed and stretched and ripped and consumed by her event horizon. The pain was wonderful. Being shredded was ecstasy.

This void was the opposite of her. 

He couldn't even feel anything when he tried to scream—without air, he couldn't feel his vocal plates vibrate. He couldn't feel his hands, his face, his eye; he tried to bite himself just to feel something and he couldn't feel his mouth, he tried to rip open his wounds and couldn't find them; why couldn't he see his own light, why couldn't he see his blood, where had he gone, was he gone—

Reality returned like a light bulb being switched on.

The first thing he registered was a shrill sound on the verge of inaudibility; and then the pain in his eye, his sides, his wounds; and then the dull gray light, the hard floor under his knees, the antiseptic stench in the air conditioning.

He stopped screaming. The shrill sound stopped.

"Energetic as always, are we?"

Bill blinked blearily at the Orb of Healing Light hovering before him. He croaked, "I'll regurgitate you."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." A glowing translucent clipboard manifested in front of the Orb. "Well, you've gone through this enough times to know the drill! Do you need a moment to recover, or—?"

"No no, I'm fine, I'm fine." Bill slumped forward, trembling hands on the floor, waiting for the vertigo to pass. "I'm fine. Do your thing." He'd rather get the post-Solitary Wellness Void reorientation interview over with.

"Perfect. What's your name?"

"I'm ol' Vinegar Pete."

"No clowning, please."

He sighed loudly. "Bill Cipher."

"Good. Where are you?"

He considered saying hell, but decided he'd used up all the clowning he could risk for one day. He didn't want to go back in. "The Theraprism. Ward 333."

"Very good. When are you?"

"I was gonna ask you," Bill groaned. "How long was I in the hole this time? A million years? Ten million?"

The Orb checked its notes. "Eight minutes."

"Wh—no, no I know that time moves slower out in reality than in the prism. I'm not asking how much time passed in reality, I'm asking how much time passed here."

"Eight minutes," the Orb repeated. "Outside the Theraprism, one third of one second passed."

Bill groaned again and flopped flat on the floor.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Why are any of us here?" Bill asked the gray linoleum tiles. "Usually because some dumb beast tripped into the booby trap that sets off its reproductive process. How's your species work, you pop outta nebulas, right—?"

"I meant, coming out of the Solitary Wellness Void."

"Oh." Bill tried to remember what his infraction had been this time. "Because I failed to escape."

"Because you tried to escape."

If he'd succeeded, they never could have punished him. "Sure."

"Good, you seem oriented to your surroundings. Let's get you to the nurse and then back to your cell." The nurse? What did he need a nurse for?

He only realized then that he must have succeeded in reopening his wounds in the SWV: the never-quite-healed crack across his exoskeleton was wider, the edges chipped and bent. It hurt. His eye socket hurt too; he tasted blood. With the way his whole body usually ached after leaving the void, he hadn't even noticed.

Through the crack in his exoskeleton, his edges had frayed into fine golden threads. The sight of silvery blood on his hands made him nauseous; he hastily looked away and reminded himself it was only his own. 

####

As Bill wearily followed behind the Orb and two security guards followed behind him, he had to periodically turn to hover sideways to streamline himself. These days he was so weak that he could feel the air resistance pushing back against him when he floated; with his wound reopened, he felt like the air pressure could snap his exoskeleton along the crack and break him in half.

"You're not Emmy," Bill said. "You're, uh..."

"A-AOX4."

"Oxyyy," Bill said weakly. "Heyyy. S'been a while. Usually I get a personal welcome back from the void, why didn't Emmy show? Don't tell me it doesn't see me as a threat anymore!" He'd be offended if it didn't. D-SM5 was the closest thing he had to a nemesis these days. Even if he couldn't beat it, he wanted to think he still irritated the daylights out of it.

"Director SM5 couldn't make it. It's overseeing the preparations for Paingoreous's reincarnation."

"That's today? Good riddance." Paingoreous had started getting sanctimonious the past few hundred group therapy sessions—don't you have any compassion for your victims and it's possible to live a happy life without slaughtering all your enemies first and maybe I should ask for permission before I vivisect my friends' faces—passive, self-defeatist crap like that. Vivisecting your friends and seeing who complained was how you found out who your lame friends were! Now that the wet blanket was leaving, the rest of them could get back to spending their sessions reminiscing about the glory days and trying to set the donuts on fire when the therapist was distracted.

"Yes," A-AOX4 said pointedly, "it is good he gets to leave to go become a productive member of reality. We're all so happy that he's rehabilitated enough to earn a new chance at life." (Bill rolled his eye. A-AOX4 ignored it.) "Wouldn't you like a chance to rejoin reality, Bill?"

More than anything. He'd been in this crystallized brain's perpetual dreamscape for what felt like both a thousand years and a single day—time never passing, an eternal inescapable moment. He'd tried to break out, sneak out, or bargain his way out more times than he could count; sometimes he was locked in the SWV as punishment; and sometimes the staff gently stopped him, confiscated his supplies, and chastised him for the effort—and the reminder that he was as powerless as a child was worse than the void. He'd gone delirious from the boredom, hallucinating screams and burning faces as his mind struggled to stimulate itself (and he'd been medicated for it). He'd so despaired of escaping that he'd looked for a way to burn up the remains of his energy and vanish for good (and he'd been medicated for it). He ached with the need to see the stars again.

But not enough to sell his soul for it. If he took the staff's route—let them break him down, sandblast off his rough edges, erase everything that made him him, and finally physically transform him into some alien creature—then whatever left the Theraprism would no longer be Bill Cipher.

"What, and force you guys to find a new 'unique case'? I wouldn't do that to you! I know how much you love me," Bill said. "Besides, why would I go through all that just so I can reincarnate as a sentient snowflake, or Mi-Go antennae lice, or..."

"A butterfly," A-AOX4 cut in, an edge of impatience creeping into its tone. "Paingoreous has chosen to reincarnate as a butterfly. We all think that's a very productive way to channel his desire to digest his own skin."

"Unless it's one of those blood-drinking butterflies, lame." Bill scoffed. "Wait—hold on, you said butterfly? Like an Earth butterfly?"

They were, of course, not actually speaking an Earth language, but an interdimensional pidgin that borrowed words and grammar from dozens of worlds. When around the Orbs of Healing Light that held half the staff positions, Bill tended to speak a dialect of the pidgin that used flashes of light for 40% of its vocabulary. It was perfectly possible that the word Bill knew as "butterfly" was also used for some alien creature, but—

"Yes, an Earth butterfly. A Vanessa atalanta, to be precise."

Aw, boo. Not even a cool butterfly. "He's reincarnating on Earth?"

"Yes. Many of our patients reincarnate on Earth. As long as you're careful about which region and century you reincarnate into, it's at the top of our recommended list of Goldilocks zones."

There was another phrase that Bill recognized, but this time he was sure his definition was not A-AOX4's definition. "Whaaat do Goldilocks zones have to do with reincarnation."

"You didn't pay attention to the orientation session on our outpatient reincarnation program, did you."

"What! I didn't get an orientation session!" said Bill, who probably didn't remember any such session because he didn't pay attention to it.

"Well—we rank millions of planets and their dimensional parallels based on their potential to help patients reintegrate into reality. We do try to set our patients up for success," A-AOX4 said. "To qualify as a Goldilocks zone, a planet has to meet the Theraprism's rigorous list of criteria: its lifeforms, cultures, laws of physics, and position in interdimensional society must all be conducive to a patient's continued recovery. We want to ensure that our patients' new lives are neither so difficult as to retraumatize them, nor so easy as to let them coast by avoiding continued personal growth, but right in the middle, so that they're emotionally and spiritually challenged without being overwhelmed. The Goldilocks zone: a perfect compromise between two extremes."

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Bill could feel his eye glazing over in disinterest. Fight it, Cipher.

"Do you miss Earth?"

Bill tilted to glance askance at A-AOX4, and was surprised to see it had turned to focus a spotlight on him. Oh—it thought it had finally found a carrot to dangle in front of him. That was a popular strategy here: they figured out what a patient wanted most, and then used it to coax them into good behavior and "rehabilitation"—better still if they could attach a sense of urgency to it. Don't you want to see your descendants again before the last of them dies out? Don't you want to see your homeworld before its sun swallows it? Don't you want to reconcile with your god before the heat death of your universe?

But Bill had no universe, no homeworld, no family; no lovers or friends or gods that hadn't betrayed him and left him to rot here; and he'd remained smugly steadfast in refusing to give D-SM5 and its minions anything else it could use to get under his chitin. He was proud that he was too broken for even the famed Theraprism to fix him.

A-AOX4 probably thought it had finally found an opening. It might be useful to let it keep thinking that.

"You kidding me? Earth? Pfff! I don't miss that overgrown asteroid one bit!" He waved off the suggestion, and winced when the gesture tugged wrong at his reopened wound. "But hey, you don't study a world for millions of years without finding a few things about it to like. The music's pretty good. And the movies and literature, though if you ask me, they peaked between the first two World Wars. I like trees, evolution did a great job with trees. And humans really went off with the architecture. The pyramids? 10 out of 10. And some of the locals aren't bad, I've got a few exes from Earth."

"Do you? How many exes?"

"Living? Just a hundred forty or fifty," Bill said dismissively. "Earthlings just have those pretty eyes, you know? I'm a sucker for a pretty eye! But outside of that, no, there's nothing on Earth for me."

"I see," A-AOX4 said lightly, and dropped the conversation.

Hook, line, and sinker.

####

The original definition of a "Goldilocks zone" came from astrobiology. The Goldilocks zone was the ring of space around a star in which an orbiting planet could support liquid water and thus water-based life: not too close to the star and too hot, not too far and too cold, but just right. Earth, for instance, orbited Sol in its Goldilocks zone.

It was from this definition that other, more metaphorical definitions of Goldilocks zones emerged. Such as the Theraprism's: a world that was neither too stressful nor too boring for a newly brainwashed—sorry, "cured"—patient. And apparently Earth was in that Goldilocks zone, too.

Which was very interesting to Bill—because in their search for a new home, the Henchmaniacs had come up with their own definition of a Goldilocks zone. For them, it was a dimension close enough to the Nightmare Realm with a thin enough barrier that they could easily punch through it, but not so close and so thin that puncturing the barrier would pop it like a balloon and cause the dimension to immediately prolapse into the Nightmare Realm—which was a problem they'd had before. More than once. They needed a dimension they could easily cut a hole into, but control it, so they could slowly pump the Nightmare Realm's contents in. A barrier neither too vulnerable nor too strong, but just right.

And wouldn't you know it—but Earth happened to be in that Goldilocks zone too. Right next to a point in the dimensional membrane so thin, the Nightmare Realm could almost stretch through and kiss it.

####

Since Bill Cipher was infamously known as the last survivor of a trillion-years-extinct species, and had until recently been capable of instantly repairing himself, there were no medical records on how his anatomy worked. It didn't help that at some point eons ago he'd somehow managed to graft a 3D exoskeleton to his 2D anatomy without breaking his own physics, meaning no one had seen his true body in recorded history. Bill knew how he worked, but refused to offer any hints. So the Theraprism staff had to guess at Bill's medical treatment.

But Bill was still made of energy, and even weakened he could eventually self-repair. So whenever his injury was exacerbated, the nurse tended to just patch up his exoskeleton to keep it stable enough to send him back to his room.

On top of his mysterious anatomy, the staff had no idea how to medicate his physiology. They knew he could be medicated—Bill's personal substance (ab)use experiments were notorious far outside the Nightmare Realm—but they had to treat him like a newly-discovered form of life in figuring out what affected him, how it affected him, and how much it took. He'd been on and off hundreds of drugs as they tried to chemically stabilize a mind for which they had no idea what baseline stability looked like. D-SM5 had told him that between the enormous doses needed to impact his energy-based physiology and the vast variety of drugs he'd been through, Bill's medication regimen was the most expensive in the Theraprism. He took some pride in that.

He had very few things to take pride in anymore. He clung to what meager victories he could.

If Bill got his way, he wouldn't be medicated at all. None of the substances they wanted him on were what he'd call recreational. (Although for a while he had gotten away with not telling the docs that one of his antipsychotics had given him a side-effect of kaleidoscopic hallucinations.) Plus there was the fact that he'd heard rumors that quite a few pharmaceutical execs were good pals with a certain director—not that Bill would name names, of course!—that's his motto, Don't Slander Maliciou5ly!

But when he resisted taking his meds, they could send in the guards to pin him down so a nurse could inject a sedative so strong he wouldn't remember anything that happened for the next few hours to months (hard to tell) until they started tapering it off... and although he'd rather die than admit it, after losing that fight five or six times, even he had to admit to himself it was a lot less scary to just take their rotten drugs. Better to go through his days with his mind dulled and hazy than blacked out altogether.

To retain what little pride he had left, he'd reached a compromise with his jailers.

When the nurse had finished attaching the reinforcing splints around Bill's injury, they grabbed a medication measurement cup, filled it halfway with syrupy eye drops, and double-checked Bill's chart as they dropped thirteen different pills (plus a fourteenth pill for a painkiller) in the cup.

As Bill redressed, he eyed the unappetizing cocktail of antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and things he'd forgotten the purpose of but that probably weren't doing whatever the doctors hoped and definitely weren't doing anything Bill liked. "My straw?"

"Right, right." The nurse handed over one of the wide-diameter disposable white straws they kept on hand for patients who struggled to drink (or, in Bill's case, patients they struggled to get to drink).

Only a tiny fragment of Bill was actually locked up in the Theraprism—like pinching the glowing lure of an anglerfish in a trap while the rest of the fish thrashed outside—and because most of Bill's vast energy was elsewhere, he was nearly powerless. But he still had enough energy to heat up a finger, twist the straw around it, and hold it there until it had melted into a new shape.

The nurse sighed. "Do you have to do that every time? You ruin more straws than you get right."

Imperiously, Bill said, "Leave me to my whimsy." He tugged off the straw when it had cooled down to examine the corkscrew shape he'd made. The wall was a little flattened in one place, but he could pinch it back open. "See? It's perfect!" Cheerfully ignoring the nurse, he stuck the straw in his cup and slurped down his pills like tapioca balls. He tried not to remember what was in them.

A-AOX4 had left Bill with the nurse, but the two mall cops with medical kinks known as Bill's personal guards were still waiting nearby. The nurse's office was next door to the cafeteria—for ease of patients picking up their medications at meal times—in an anteroom that was connected to the rest of the ward by a set of locked double doors. A couple of guards were stationed near those doors at all times, and generally the guards assigned to Bill hung around with them while Bill was in the cafeteria or nurse's office. Bill floated up to them, regarding them with the disinterest of a king ignoring the servants he expected to open doors for him, and continued to ignore them as they escorted him back to his cell, one in front and one behind, while he sipped on his drugged cocktail.

The Dimensional Tyrant Ward was already one of the most heavily-guarded wards in the Theraprism; but to reach the maximum security cells, a patient had to pass several increasingly heavy security checkpoints with increasingly impenetrable security doors. The final door was warded against all magic, unhackable, unbreakable, and so airtight that even without his exoskeleton there was no gap Bill's 2D form could slide through. The doors to each cell—outfitted with tiny one-way mirror portholes, no latches or hinges on the inside—were a little less heavy duty, but packed with just as many failsafes. The Dimensional Tyrant Ward's max security hall had the most advanced security architecture of any psychiatric facility in the multiverse.

Bill had made a trillion year career of trying to break his way through a door nobody wanted him to go through. He could think of seven different ways to get through the doors. Sooner or later he'd find a way out of this place altogether.

A few of the doors had modifications: this one with a metal slab over the porthole to protect passersby from the occupant's petrifying gaze, that one with extra soundproofed padding coating the door. Bill was almost insulted his own door didn't warrant any special modifications.

His favorite door was The Beast's. A comfortingly yellow triangular sign on the door displayed a black symbol of a steak. Red signs above and below read "CAUTION! FEED UNSEASONED MEAT ONLY." "NO SUGAR ALLOWED." The Beast's heavy snuffing was audible through the door; his hot, sickly sweet breath seeped through the slot in the door that had been installed to deliver his food.

Bill's escorts automatically drifted to the far side of the hall to avoid The Beast. Bill, whose first medication was already starting to kick in, zigzagged lazily back and forth across the hall, heedless of how close he came to The Beast's cell.

Bill had never seen this door opened once in all his time incarcerated, and the dust settled on the additional chains and padlocks stretched across the door showed just how long it had been since the last incident. But some of the patients who'd been here longer than Bill still couldn't bring themselves to speak of the last time he'd escaped. Elder eldritch gods shuddered and gibbered nervously at the mention of his name. 

Bill tilted over to try to peer through the food slot at The Beast. A quivering, sickly blue eye stared back at him. Honestly, Bill thought The Beast was adorable.

Outside Bill's door, the guards waited for Bill to finish his medicine, hand over his cup and straw, and open his mouth and lift his eye out of the way so they could check and make sure he'd swallowed them.

And then he was left in his cell.

####

A perfect cube of uniform dull grey tiles supernaturally lit by a uniform dull grey glow, no light source, no shadows; in a max security room in the Maximum Security Wellness Center, patients weren't even trusted around light fixtures. The staff had removed everything Bill had used thus far to commit violence or attempt escape, plus a few more things as punishments for various infractions: journal, paint, pens, books, magazines, puppets (he missed those the most), even the furniture. He'd never earned the privilege of a TV or radio. By now, all he was permitted were black, red, yellow, and blue dry erase markers to draw on his walls—and the red and blue had gone dry; the "Be a TRY-angle!" poster they'd replaced whenever Bill left the room until he gave up and stopped tearing it down; and the clothes on his back. He'd gradually gotten himself banned from every extracurricular and recreational activity the Dimensional Tyrant Ward offered. Whenever he was fresh out of the SWV, when his restrictions were highest, his schedule consisted of mandatory individual therapy, mandatory group therapy, med checks, and the cafeteria.

He spent the vast majority of his time in his cell, sitting curled up alone, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating, waiting for nothing at all.

####

The seamless door swung open and admitted an Orb of Healing Light.

Bill blinked blearily up at the Orb. It was hard to tell how slowly time passed here, but he was sure it couldn't have been more than a couple hours since he'd been returned to his cell: that was when his medications made his mind the foggiest. "Emmyyy. Where ya been? Didn't see you when I came out of the Solitary Dullness Void. Nice of you to, uh..." A second ago he'd had a clever quip about how D-SM5 had clearly dropped by because it missed Bill, but he'd forgotten how to word it.

"Well, I'm here now. I'm flattered you missed me, Mr. Cipher."

Bill blinked heavily. "You turned that around on me," he griped. "Not fair." Ugh, the room was spinning. He flopped on his back.

"A-AOX4 tells me you showed an interest earlier in our outpatient reincarnation program," D-SM5 said. "Since it looks like your schedule is light these days, I thought you might be interested in attending Paingoreous's reincarnation?"

It took him a moment to process the offer. "Really? That's something people can attend?" What was the catch?

"We usually only extend the offer to the departing patient's friends, and—exemplary patients. But... I thought you might benefit from watching the process for yourself. It may encourage you to take a little more interest in your future."

For it to push a possible lead so fast, it really was desperate to find some leverage they could use on Bill. It probably thought of this as a rare opportunity—a patient from Ward 333 wasn't ready for reincarnation every day.

"Wow. I sure am encouraged," Bill said. "You have no idea just how encouraged I am."

####

If an unambitious office building and a utilitarian hospital reluctantly got married out of a vague sense of heteronormative social obligation, had a depressed child, and the fae spirited it away to replace it with an even more depressed changeling child, the child's small intestines would look a lot like the Theraprism's interior hallways: it was windowless, it was labyrinthine, it was beige, and it was grey, and it didn't even care anymore. Monotonous commercial high-traffic carpet alternated with monotonous commercial high-traffic linoleum. The fluorescent lights buzzed just enough to be annoying, but not quite enough that you'd feel justified in snapping and screaming "I've had it!" as you swung a pleather-seated metal chair at the light fixture.

Even though Bill had been languishing in the Theraprism for hours and/or millennia (Bill couldn't tell; he couldn't feel the passage of time), he hardly knew his way around the Dimensional Tyrant Ward, much less the rest of the facility. As D-SM5 led Bill (and six guards) out of Ward 333 and into a lower security zone, he looked for any scant identifiable landmarks and tried to memorize which turns they took by coding the lefts and rights and ups and downs into a mnemonic word. The walk helped wake him from his medication stupor; but his mind never quite felt fully on.

Bill had only briefly glimpsed the Theraprism's reincarnation unit during intake, just one of many rooms he'd been whisked past as he was dragged to Ward 333 screaming and cursing the Axolotl's name. Entering the unit now, it looked like an occult sacrificial altar carved from marble that had been modeled after a 23rd century starship's teleportation platform, contained in a room that looked like a magic planetarium: glowing stars hovered around the dome of the ceiling. Against the back wall in pale pink marble was carved an impossibly long axolotl, swimming in a figure 8 so its vapid smile almost caught the tip of its ribbonlike tail. Bill glowered at it. Backstabber.

He, D-SM5, and the other observers who'd already arrived were in a connected observation room with an enormous, thick window and a sealed door. Next to the window was a large computer console encased in the same marble as the reincarnation altar. That probably controlled the process.

The audience consisted of three aliens who looked a little like Paingoreous might have with his face unpeeled, a few patients and staff Bill recognized, more he didn't, and Jessica with the shining spherical head and the thirteen fingers. Oh boy. If he'd known Jessica would be here he would have tried to polish. Bill straightened his bow tie and smoothed his rumpled orange jumpsuit.

Paingoreous himself was already in the next room, standing on the altar. At the sight of Bill, his exposed facial muscles twitched, as though trying to widen his eyes even though their eyelids were already long gone. "Bill? What are you doing here?"

D-SM5 answered before Bill could blurt out a witty retort. "I invited Mr. Cipher. I thought he would benefit from seeing what he can look forward to once he's improved. I hope you don't mind."

Paingoreous's face immediately smoothed out. "Yes—of course, director, if you say so. I remember how difficult it was in the early days. I'm happy to help my fellow patients in any way I can." Suck up. A dry note entered his voice, "Especially a more troubled patient."

Bill took one of the folding chairs lined up in front of the window and shot back, "I'm about to have one less trouble! Byyye!" (Did Jessica think that was funny? Sometimes she did. He snuck a sideways glance to see if she was laughing. Oh, right—she didn't have a face.)

Paingoreous didn't dignify him with a response. Too good for the likes of Bill, no doubt. Paingoreous wasn't obligated to answer anybody—except the staff, of course.

Bill had never met the real Paingoreous. By the time Bill was committed, the monotony, medication, and mandatory therapy were already well on their way to killing whoever Paing had once been. No way the offensively bland sap leaving now was the same one who'd come in with his face skinned and muscles pinned open.

A technician was already turning on the computer console, running through a whole list of checks as the machine booted up. A hum filled the room as the altar began to softly glow. To all appearances Bill was facing forward, slitted pupil aimed straight at Paingoreous; but his anatomy was built for watching things out of the corner of his eye and his real attention was focused on the reincarnation technician. "So how's reincarnation work in this dump?" Bill asked D-SM5. "I didn't get the orientation."

"Yes you did," D-SM5 said. "I was there."

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't remember seeing you."

D-SM5 sighed. "First, Paingoreous's memories of his current life must be erased, to give him the best fresh start possible and to comply with Earth's soul sanitization regulations."

"Seems like a big waste of time. His head's already empty enough."

One of the Paing-ish aliens a couple seats over shot Bill a dirty look. "That's my son in there."

"Not for much longer, he isn't."

"Be respectful," D-SM5 said warningly.

Bill ignored it. "So once you've scrubbed his brain clean, what then?"

"Then, we reincarnate him. We've already carefully selected his destination and species; except for special circumstances, we generally don't customize the patient's body further, as the program is already set up to divinely design the body most well-suited to the soul about to inhabit it."

"If these bodies are so perfect, why customize them at all?"

"We wouldn't want, say, a recovering pyromaniac to be reborn with pyrokinesis." (Bill felt unfairly targeted.) "Once his species and destination are entered into the program, off he'll go to start his new life as an egg."

"An egg?! Sheesh, wasn't going through childhood once bad enough? I assume his childhood was bad, anyway! Nobody with competent parents ends up like him."

The Paing-ish alien beside Bill bolted out of their seat and lurched aggressively toward Bill. (Ha. Too easy.) The next alien over tugged them back by the arm. Bill was sure he heard a whispered, "Careful, do you know who that..." 

D-SM5 said, "One more crack like that and you're going back to your cell."

"Fiiine. Why can't he skip straight to being a butterfly, though?" What he really wanted to find out was how to skip straight to adulthood.

"For starters, because spontaneous generation has been heavily restricted on Earth since the 15th century, and banned completely outside of special circumstances since the 19th century."

Spontaneous generation. The creation of fully formed life from unliving matter: maggots that emerged from flesh, geese that emerged from barnacles, snakes and crocodiles that wriggled out of the mud of the Nile. He'd always planned to legalize it again when he took over. So if the only reason the Theraprism couldn't do it was because it was banned, then they must have the technology for it, right?

Bill tuned D-SM5 out as it prattled on about the mental health benefits of restarting life and beginner's mind and boring therapeutic psychobabble, and ignored the flashing lights and divine music as Paingoreous's memory, personality, and identity were all wiped clean. He was only interested in what the reincarnation technician was doing. (Although when Bill briefly glanced at Paingoreous, his shape seemed somehow uncertain, as though his molecules had only just walked into the room and promptly forgotten what they'd come in for or who they were supposed to be. Ready to be reshaped into something else.)

The technician opened up the primary reincarnation program, checked a box confirming that the patient's previous incarnation had been erased, and began setting up the specifications for his next incarnation. Choosing the reincarnation world was easy enough: under the drop down menu, the "Goldilocks zone" worlds were sorted first. Earth was sixth on the list. Choosing a dimension was just as easy.

However, choosing the location and time period looked more complicated; rather than searching through a handy list of continents or geological epochs, the technician checked Paingoreous's patient file and typed a couple of long strings of numbers into the blanks for the coordinates and time. They didn't look like any date system or coordinate system Bill was familiar with. How the heck would he work with that?

And selecting the species, to Bill's horror, meant scrolling down a menu ordered by how frequently a species had been selected for reincarnation at this facility. That was insane! The Theraprism always discharged patients as unambitious species where one member was nearly incapable of making a meaningful impact on the local biosphere—anything useful like an octopus or a goat would be buried amongst the literal billions of species that had received zero reincarnations. Couldn't you just start typing the species's name to jump down to—? But no, the Theraprism's keyboard didn't have characters to type human loan words. The technician seemed to be scrolling manually.

That was fine! That was fine. Whatever Bill left as, he wouldn't be it for very long. He wasn't shopping for a makeover; just for an escape pod.

The technician located Vanessa atalanta (147 prior reincarnations) and kept moving, tabbing past a dizzying array of options—sex, size, coloration, visual clarity, caterpillar spine distribution, a whole list of health conditions and mutations the technician skipped—and every box she tabbed past automatically filled in with the word "DEFAULT". How many boxes could be filled in with defaults?

Bill leaned toward D-SM5. "So do you chuck these suckers out anywhere random on the planet or what?"

"Of course not," it said promptly. "What a thought! We take a deep interest in our discharged patients' well-being. We never leave where they spend their next lives at the whim of the computer's randomized decision." 

But they could leave it up to the computer. Still watching sideways as the technician scrolled past an "advanced settings" button without touching it (was that where the spontaneous generation option was hidden?), Bill asked, "Do youalways choose for the patient, or can the patient make requests?"

Dryly, D-SM5 said, "Unless you make some enormous progress, I doubt you'd get clearance to reincarnate anywhere near that town you terrorized, if that's what you're wondering."

"What! Who said I want to visit that crummy valley! All those mountains and trees? Ugh! No, do you know what kind of place I like? The Greater Cairo metropolitan area. Dry! Sandy! Flat!" said Bill, who detested flat landscapes with all his heart. "Covered in pyramids! Sometimes with my face on them! Plus there's the Nile! I love the Nile! I love being in the Nile! I'd spend all my time in the Nile if I could! I've had some loser ex-friends say that living your whole life in the Nile is an unhealthy coping mechanism to avoid addressing problems in your life, but if you ask me they're just jealous of how amazing my life is—"

"Ready for reincarnation," the technician said. "Proceed?"

D-SM5 left its seat, hovering closer to the glass to catch Paingoreous's attention. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Paingoreous, who clearly wasn't certain what he was claiming to be ready for.

"Proceed," D-SM5 said. Bill fell silent, paying close attention to how the technician began the reincarnation process.

She clicked a button that said "EXECUTE" (gruesome), clicked through a couple more confirmation screens, and then the faint background hum grew to a rumble and the magical stars glowed brighter. "Ten seconds," she said. "Nine... eight... seven..."

"Hey!" Bill shouted through the glass. "Friendly tip for Earth! Humans love when you fly into their eyeballs! You should do that!"

D-SM5 rounded on Bill, glowing furiously at him. (Maybe it was Bill's imagination, but he thought Jessica looked amused. Worth it.)

The soon-to-be caterpillar formerly known as Paingoreous stared in confusion at Bill. "Okay," he said—and then there was a bright flash of light.

He let out an awful wail of pure soul-rending agony.

When the light faded, he was gone.

The observation room had fallen perfectly silent.

"That's fine," D-SM5 said. "That's—that's normal."

####

Every once in a while, the Theraprism got something right. It was one of the few big government-sponsored "respectable" institutions that didn't make a fuss about how Bill ate. They just let him go to the cafeteria, strip down, unpeel his exoskeleton, and hang out with the photosynthesizers for half an hour or so in the corner under the grow lights. No gasps of horror or screams of outrage—not from the staff anyway; some of the patients took a bit to get used to it when they were new. It was a refreshing change.

On the other hand, even though they were willing to turn a couple lights high enough to melt most mortals' eyeballs when Bill was feeding, he never left feeling truly energized. The grow lights were designed for species with leaves and solar panels; they weren't designed to fuel up a god made of energy. A few bright lightbulbs didn't measure up to raw starlight.

He figured there wasn't any point in complaining. As much as he hated feeling like a gas tank trying to burn a dust mote for fuel, he knew that they knew that long before he even reached 1% of his usual power, he'd be strong enough to vaporize the Theraprism with the snap of a finger.

When he'd had his daily dose of light, he folded shut, redressed, and drifted over to the actual food for dessert. He grabbed a bottle of an allegedly "lemon" nigh-flavorless clear soda—this would do—and hovered toward the exit.

The cafeteria monitor stationed in the door elbowed her way in front of Bill. "Ahem."

"What?"

"You know the rules. No food outside the cafeteria."

"What! This isn't food, it's a soda. Beverages aren't food, everyone knows that." The monitor didn't budge. Bill tried whining. "C'mooon, I got injured in the void today. Look at this!" He gestured demonstratively at his splints. "Look how much pain I'm in!"

The Solitary Wellness Void made this cafeteria monitor uncomfortable. She'd never said so directly, but she tended to turn a blind eye when patients who'd just come out of the SWV were more aggressive than usual or tried to sneak extra desserts. One time when Bill had come out of a week in the SWV, she'd wordlessly slipped him a couple of packets of low-sodium fear sauce, a condiment usually distributed exclusively to the obligate phobophages in the ward. "Besides, it's my birthday! I'm a birthday triangle! You wouldn't deny a birthday triangle a soda, right?"

"Is it really your birthday?"

"Heck if I know. It could be. I don't know it isn't."

She was trying not to smile. "Fine. Just one time. Don't let anyone catch you with it and finish it before you're back in your cell."

"You got it, toots." Bill glided past her.

He slipped from the cafeteria into the nurse's office before his guards could catch sight of his illicit drink. "Hey, bartender! I'm here for my nightcap."

The nurse prepared Bill's evening battery of drugs. He bent his straw into a fun zigzag—honestly it was really more of a sad N shape—slurped down half the eyedrops, and opened his soda to refill his cup.

The nurse looked over at the hiss of the cap opening. "Hey! Hey—"

"It's just soda!" Bill protested. "The cafeteria monitor said it was fine! Besides, what's a little soda gonna do? Nullify all seven of my antipsychotics before I reach my cell?" (Bill had overheard the nurse grumbling to a colleague about the amount of antipsychotics he was on. They thought it was utterly excessive, considering that they'd had no evidence the drugs were doing anything but making him more erratic—which was something, because Bill had seen patients near drooling catatonia from their meds without any of the nurses questioning their current dosage. Conversely, the docs thought Bill's odd biology meant they needed to give him more if they wanted any hope of impacting him.) "Come on. It's not even caffeinated!"

The nurse took the soda bottle to check the ingredient list, then relented. "Fine. I suppose it won't do any harm."

"You're a peach." Bill topped off his cup, poured the rest of the soda over his eye, crushed the bottle, and consumed it too.

"The plastic probably isn't good for you, though."

"I like the way it melts in the back of my throat."

As he drank his medicated soda and got escorted back to his cell, he lazily drifted back and forth in the hall as far as the guards would let him go, dawdling more than usual—he knew they hated it when he dawdled, but they knew he hated spending one second more in his cell than necessary and grudgingly put up with a little lollygagging to keep the peace. But their tolerance ran out in the max security hall as Bill slowed down even further near The Beast's cell. The guard behind Bill pushed him. "Hurry up." 

"Hey!" Bill wobbled off path and stumbled into the wall, spilling some of his drink. "What's your problem!"

"You stopped moving."

"I did not! I'm just taking my time! Enjoying the weather out here."

"Well, take less time."

"Ugh, fine. Didn't realize you had plans I'm keeping you from." Bill rolled his eye and kept moving.

"Hold it!"

Bill froze. He turned around. The guard was pointing at a streak of clear fluid that had spilled from Bill's cup and rolled down the door. His bones frosted over.

"You dropped a pill," the guard said.

Bill's gaze focused on the circular soap-green tablet on the floor. "Are you kidding?! Aren't the other twelve enough?"

"No exceptions, Cipher."

"You don't expect me to eat it off the floor!"

"Do you want to go all the way back to the nurse's office for another?"

Bill groaned in frustration. "Fine!" He snatched it up, wiped it off on the guard's sleeve, and popped it in his mouth. The guard raised a fist; Bill bared his fangs; and after a tense moment, the guard backed down first. The Theraprism had taken nearly every other power from Bill, but it couldn't take his teeth—and though he knew the guards would win any fight, Bill could make it hurt.

They returned him to his room; Bill handed over his cup; they checked to make sure his cup was empty, inspected his mouth, and locked him in.

He hoped they wouldn't notice that half his pills had stuck in the zig-zag bend of the opaque white straw.

He hoped they wouldn't notice The Beast's tongue thrusting through his food slot to lap up the spilled soda that was running down his door and over the bright red "NO SUGAR ALLOWED" sign.

His entire plan hinged on it.

####

Bill was drawing on the wall with his scant art supplies when he felt reality ripple around him, like the wave in a still pool when someone new quietly slides into the water. He looked up from his work. It was happening.

There were several thuds; then a crash; and then the peal of a prison alarm piercing the air. The alarm melted into shrill dolphin-like laughter, and then the frenetic staccato of a hyper speed dance song that threatened to fracture Bill's internal organs. He shuddered as the sound tore at his wound like freezing ice crystals expanding a crack in a boulder.

But he rose into the air and turned to face the door, ready.

Just in time for the door to vanish. The Theraprism melted away like mist in the sunlight—and oh, the sunlight was glorious. The wide open sky pulsed maddening colors so vivid that the faraway rainbows looked monotone in comparison; the land consisted of rolling hills of candy-coated tongues and stomachs and muscles, the paws of enormous buried corpses thrusting up into the sky, the crevasses between burial mounds running with artificially-flavored saliva. It was Bill's kind of place. He wished he had time to hang around.

Before him, orange fur matted with a fine dust of powdery sugar, wild eyes contracted to pinpricks, stood The Beast.

"You did it, you beautiful monster!" Bill shrieked with laughter. "I knew you'd come through!"

The Beast rumbled, "Em deerf evah uoy."

"You're welcome! You can return the favor later! Me, I have somewhere to be." While The Beast was asserting his personal reality on top of the Theraprism's idea of reality, none of the Theraprism's walls or doors existed. Bill wasn't sure exactly how far The Beast's radius of influence extended, except that it was at least far enough to get him out of the maximum security hall—but he had to move now, before the guards rallied to sedate The Beast. Bill slipped a finger into the band of his ankle bracelet and found that under the influence of The Beast's physics, the stiff plastic stretched like a warm rubber band. He tugged it off and tossed it aside. "Seeya, pal!"

But The Beast held up a paw, blocking Bill before he could zip off. "Noob ym tpecca," The Beast said. "Hself ym emusnoc."

"Oooh. Woww." Bill looked at The Beast's candy paw. "Oh, man. Generous offer! You have no idea how tempting it is to take a taste, but I've really gotta get somewhere, and I've gotta be at least sober enough to pull that off..."

"Emusnoc," The Beast insisted. "Hsur ragus eht fo ssendam gnilims citatsce eht ni em nioj. Rehtegot srorroh letsap dna serusaelp kcis hcus wonk lliw ew. Evarg lufituaeb ym ni em htiw tor."

Bill stared again at the paw. The tip of his tongue slipped out beneath his eye to lick hungrily at his waterline. When was the last time he'd been on something that felt good? "Oh, what the heck!" He took The Beast's paw. "I can do this buzzed! How much damage can one little lick do, anyway?"

####

The guard heaved open the maximum security hall's door. The floor was covered in tacky pools of neon candy and removed ankle monitors. "It's just like we feared," the guard shouted into a walkie-talkie, glancing quickly through each cell door's window. "Every single max security patient escaped under The Beast's reality-altering field."

The guard stopped at the sight of neon yellow and orange, peering through the window at the triangle flopped flat on the ground and surrounded by powdery pink sugar.

"Well," the guard said, "all of them except Cipher."

Through the walkie-talkie, D-SM5 tiredly said, "He licked the paw, didn't he."

"Looks like it, boss."

D-SM5 groaned. "All right! Positive thinking! That's the second biggest threat in the ward already accounted for! Silver lining to Mr. Cipher's substance use issues. Assist in securing the others."

####

The good news was that The Beast seemed happy to frolic randomly around the Theraprism rather than head toward the exit, forcing the other escapees to follow along to remain under his reality-altering protection rather than get stranded in small rooms and locked-down halls. The bad news was that his meandering route let him pick up more and more revelers. After an hour, only a third of the max security patients had been re-captured and dragged back to their cells, and twice as many medium security patients had joined the riot. 

A-AOX4 was on hand in the maximum security hall to supervise as the guards brought in super-powered escapees. Most of them came back loopy on either The Beast's toxins or on the sedative that had been injected to keep them calm. A-AOX4 was checking them for awareness of their surroundings—name, where are you, when are you, why are you here—as each one was locked back in their cell.

And each time it passed by Bill's cell, it glanced in, concerned.

Bill had been almost pleasant when he'd come out of the Solitary Wellness Void—maybe after all those sessions in isolation he was finally ready to be more of a team player. And D-SM5 had said that he'd been unusually well-behaved and attentive during the reincarnation. A-AOX4 had hoped their most surly patient was finally opening up. It would be a shame if this incident with The Beast resulted in his new progress backsliding.

Plus, it took a heavy dose of anything to impact Bill at all, much less knock him out cold. He'd already had to go to the nurse earlier today; what if he needed medical attention?

So after locking up the latest subdued prisoner, A-AOX4 said to one of the guards, "Take over monitoring incoming patients. I'm checking on Cipher."

It unlocked the door and hovered into the room. "Cipher?"

No response. He was plastered flat to the floor.

"Bill?" It floated lower to check his condition. 

He was paper.

Paper meticulously colored in with yellow marker and folded into a triangle; scraps of paper colored black, carefully torn into hand and feet shapes, and shoved in the sleeves and pants of his prison uniform.

A-AOX4 lifted up the paper. On the other side was Bill's "Be a TRY-angle!" poster. He'd written across it, "IS THIS TRYING HARD ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

It turned toward the door—and discovered Bill had filled the wall with a drawing of himself making an obscene gesture, with a word bubble that read, "GIVE MY REGARDS TO THE AX! And tell Jessica I said bye xoxo"

It zoomed out into the hallway and grabbed its walkie-talkie. "Director SM5! Cipher's escaped his cell! He left a decoy! He's not with The Beast, we don't know where he is!"

There was a moment of dead air. And then the director growled, "I think I have an idea."

####

Trying to keep his giggles as quiet as possible, Bill looped through the Theraprism's halls, drifting between The Beast's rolling fields of hard candy corpses and the Theraprism's rigid monotone halls. What had he been worried about! Getting hopped up on astralplanar sugar before escaping his cell had been a great idea! It gave him instant shortcuts through half the walls! And he could handle a little buzz like this! He was totally in control of his actions and knew exactly what he—

How long had he been flying the wrong direction? He turned around. Wow was he high, he could barely focus on anything but all the colors. He wondered if The Beast's toxins had any weird interactions with his meds.

He was lucky The Beast had decided to dawdle around the Dimensional Tyrants Ward: here at the far end of the Theraprism, there were no signs of crisis beyond the sealed doors indicating the facility was under lockdown—and once he was outside a high security ward, there were plenty of cracks, gaps, and vents that Bill was thin enough to slide through. He hadn't even seen a guard since he'd left his cell. By the time he reached the reincarnation room, The Beast's landscape was fading out and the sugar crash headache was fading in, but the facility was still on lockdown and no one seemed to be looking for Bill. He slipped beneath the locked door and powered up the console to the reincarnation machine.

He skipped straight to the reincarnation program and checked the box that said, yes, the patient's brain had been washed. He paused when a warning pop-up blocked the screen. The technician hadn't gotten a pop-up. He had to read over the two-sentence warning three times before he understood what he was looking at. The soul sanitization routine hadn't been run recently, was he sure the patient's memory was erased—ugh, yes. He irritably clicked the confirmation and hoped that would be the last of it.

Bill quickly selected Earth and dimension 46'\; he tabbed past the coordinates and date, and they both automatically filled in "DEFAULT." D-SM5 had said the computer would make a "random" decision if you didn't plug in a time and place, but the staff didn't know Earth like Bill did. If he left the time and place up to the whims of fate, then something as weird as a trillion-year-old alien chaos god escaping a criminal insane asylum to spontaneously generate as a fully grown mortal would be sucked straight into the weirdest place and time on Earth. Gravity Falls: August, 2012. Weirdmageddon. He was willing to bet his life on it.

He was betting his life on it.

After that, with any luck, he'd be able to shed his new body like any other puppet and return to his castle in the sky. If for some reason he couldn't get out of it, he'd only need to pull a couple of magic tricks outside a normal mortal's capabilities to catch his past self's attention, find a way to prove his identity—heck, with any luck, they'd be seeing through each other's eyes and that would instantly confirm it—warn his past self about the Pines' treachery, prevent his own death, save Weirdmageddon, restructure the universe in his image, and rule his new party paradise as god-king for all eternity. Easy.

He scrolled down the list of available creatures, looking for something that would be easy to reach the Fearamid and prove his intelligence with—something with vocal cords that could speak eye-bat would be useful, it'd save him a lot of trouble if he could just shout at his sentinels in their own language and startle them into listening—but, to his surprise, the first useful species he found was humans, down amongst the species that had received a single-digit number of reincarnations from the Theraprism. Really, humans? They allowed that?

Over the blaring alarm, a voice made an announcement. He completely tuned it out—and only realized a moment after it ended that he'd heard his own name. They knew he'd escaped.

Bill didn't have time to search for anything better. He selected humanity.

He tabbed past dozens of features he could choose from for his body—default default default default—who cared what the body peed out of, he wasn't keeping the thing long enough to fill its bladder! He clicked open the advanced settings—there, spontaneous generation! He hoped this thing wouldn't drop him on the sidewalk as a baby, but usually when a human suddenly popped into existence, it was an adult sculpted from clay or something, right? He'd be fine! He checked the box for spontaneous generation.

He got another error message. He groaned. He wasn't sober enough for this.

Something about spontaneous generation being banned on Earth after 1859, is he willing to assume the liability if the patient generates after—yeah sure whatever, he clicked yes. Another pop-up prompted him for the digital signature of the person assuming liability. He typed in D-SM5's name.

As soon as he clicked enter, another error message popped up. "What!!"

He flinched at the sound of a muffled pneumatic hiss. Outside, somebody had unlocked the doors to this hallway. The alarm was still blaring; the Theraprism wasn't coming off lockdown. That meant whoever had unlocked the hall was coming for him.

"Focusss." He skimmed the new warning. Something about humans being on a list of species for which spontaneous generation was restricted—what loser had written a law about that! Who cared if a fully-formed, brand-new human popped out of thin air in the middle of town! What about Bill's wants?! He checked another box YES HE'S SURE HE WANTS TO SPONTANEOUSLY GENERATE A HUMAN YOU MONSTER and pounded enter.

Another pop-up. It wanted to know on which god's authority the spontaneous generation had been authorized.

Bill froze. Why did it need to know. Would it check? A machine that could reincarnate a soul was probably also a machine that could shoot off a prayer. Or was Bill supposed to have some kind of divine authorization code? Which gods were even allowed to authorize that kind of thing? He didn't know which stupid legislative body had made this stupid law or what their stupid definition of a god was! Gods weren't even real, they were just stupid, arrogant, stuck-up jerks who were powerful enough to trick people into thinking they were important! Like Bill! What name were they looking for?!

He heard voices in the hallway. He darted over to the door, slid his fingers through the seams around the doorframe to crush the latching mechanism so it couldn't be opened, and darted back. That wouldn't hold them long; he knew from experience that the guards could bust down the doors in these low security wings without much difficulty.

"Bill Cipher!" That was D-SM5. It had come personally? In any other circumstance, he'd be flattered. "Open up immediately!"

"Has that ever worked?" A god, a god, a god... his eye caught on the bas relief at the back of the next room. If there was any god this place would accept orders from... The guards were ramming the door; the bending metal groaned. He typed "THE AXOLOTL" and hit enter.

The button grayed out but the pop-up didn't go away. The screen froze. "What." Bill tried clicking again. The cursor turned into one of those little spinning balls that meant the computer was quietly having a stroke. "No no no no—"

D-SM5 hollered, "You know what the consequences will be if you don't—"

"I'm not listeniiing to yooou!"

"You're only going to hurt yourse—"

Dropping his voice to a demonic boom to drown out the director, Bill recited, "'I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited! People were not—" There was a shriek of tearing metal, and then a bright glow behind Bill as D-SM5 peered through the gap in the door. Bill started talking faster, "'Were not invited they went there they got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow—'"

The pop-up disappeared. The cursor returned to normal. The box next to spontaneous generation was checked. Bill stared for a split second, then quickly closed out the advanced settings, scrolled to the bottom of the page, and hit "EXECUTE."

Someone blasted the door out of its frame; based on the blinding glow that accompanied the blast, Bill suspected that wasn't one of the guards, but D-SM5 itself. He frantically clicked through the next two confirmations, flung a couple of folding chairs toward D-SM5 and its thugs, and dove beneath the door to the next room. Ten seconds.

"Cancel the reincarnation!" D-SM5 snapped.

A guard ran to the console. (What if they saw where Bill had gone? They could probably guess the planet, but would the computer keep records of his destination, what his new body looked like—) "I don't see a cancel! I don't think—"

"Then get him off the altar!"

Five seconds. Please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please— Bill hadn't broken the door between the observation room and the altar; the guards easily unlocked it. "No no no—!"

"Don't let him esc—!"

Three seconds. An impossibly bright light shone down on Bill. He reflexively peeled open his exoskeleton to accept it. LIGHT—oh, he felt even more alive than the time he'd stolen a bottle of stimulants from the nurse station, ground them up, and snorted them off Mrs. Mirrorcube's back. His eye widened, taking in as much free energy as he could—and then he focused his gaze through the window on the console, focusing the infinite light into a laser powerful enough to instantly melt through the window and explode the computer. The guards fell back, trying to shield their tender mortal flesh from the fury of Bill's fire. Enjoy the blisters.

D-SM5 bellowed, "Bill Cipher, you mo—!"

"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SUCKA!" He could feel his body ripping apart, cracking open at the wound. It hurt, but not the hurt of dying; it was the euphoric hurt of spaghettification, of being infinitely sucked beyond a beautiful event horizon. Bill's triumphant cackle filled the air—

—and then the room was silent and dark, and Bill was gone.

####

(If you're new here: I posted this as a one shot because I think we could all use a little Bill escaping from Theraprism, yeah? However it's ALSO part of my ongoing Bill-stuck-in-a-human-body fic I'm currently editing for TBOB compatibility. So, if you enjoyed this and want to see where post-reincarnation Bill goes, check out the fic!! And if you DON'T want to read the rest of the fic, I hope you enjoyed the one shot and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

If you do check out the main fic be forewarned it's only 100% TBOB compatible up to chapter 6. After that it is, bizarrely, 98% TBOB compatible, because somehow I accidentally wrote a fic that lines up with the book so well that I'm legit worried people could use TBOB to work out fic spoilers. But I still need to edit the remaining 2%.

If you're NOT new here: hey gang this is the new chapter 6!!! I finished editing this chapter about fifteen minutes before post time so it's not as polished as my usual chapters, but I hope it didn't read that way. Anyway, I look forward to hearing what y'all think!)

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[foxcassius]

just thought abt furuya sensei for a little too long. god she was infuriating.