#but that'd be a god damn lie

[jellyskink]

The Tooth And The Following Headache. (A cringey crackship)

"Alright Pines, you're good to go now. You remember where the exit is yeah?"

(Geez, the more I see this guy the MORE I find myself needin' to buy another pack of cold ones for the week.)

The day was about as fun as you'd expect it to be with "him" around. I was just about to have a good day too, of course things would go wrong as soon as I was about to relax and finish up work.

Ford Pines had his monthly appointment with me today, an appointment that I was booked with because of Oleander's meddling probably.

"Yes Dr.Ibis, I remember. H-How is everything looking if I may ask?"

(Horrible, if I was presented this during dental school I'd probably have thought it was the BEFORE photo, not AFTER.)

"Eh, I've seen worse. But you're doin' better than last time."

(That was a lie and a truth both in the correct order. Geez what HAS this freak been doing? The first time I saw him I was surprised he hadn't kicked the bucket or passed out at the very least from what problems he was dealing with. It was almost like I was checking off everything in the book on what was wrong with this guy. I mean, damn if I didn't know better I'd assume this guy was eating glass for fun or something.)

"R-really? Oh my Muse will be so pleased! The care you and Dr. Oleander have been providing me has been astronomically wonderful! My muse certainly knows how to find the best people to introduce me to!"

(Ugh, here we go again. "My muse" this, "my muse" that. I wish he'd can it about that damn triangle, the problems that kindergartner art project looking thing have been causing have been one of my biggest headache bringers to date.)

"Yep, he sure does. Now can we get along to the part where we just schedule your next appointment? I'm a very busy man you know, patients to see and all that."

"Of course! I'll need to run it by my Muse before it's finalized, but I can certainly get the word to him!"

"Sure thing bud."

(Thank god, this is going quicker than I thought. I really hate having this guy ruin the mood in my office with his... everything. What did Irene even see in this guy? This wacko clearly didn't have a personality besides being a sad clingy puppy dog whose entire being was dedicated to his "Muse".)

(Irene was pretty secretive about certain things regarding that guy whenever we ended up talking over the phone or the occasional coffee. Which for a normal doctor that'd be expected, patient confidentiality and all that. But Irene crossed that line long ago as soon as she took him on as one of her patients.)

(The guy wasn't extremely interesting to my knowledge outside of his extra fingers. If anything he was boring or weird, sometimes both at the same time. The guy wasn't particularly charming, he did LOOK handsome, and OCCASIONALLY wasn't the worst to be around, but geez I hated everything else about the guy.)

"Ah Dr.Ibis before I forget, I have something for you."

(OH GOD NOT THIS AGAIN.)

Before I even had a chance to react any further, Mr.Triangle lover quickly reached into his bag and pulled out something small with reddish-brown fur and held it out to me.

(What even is that? Is that a hamster? No, it was a vole. He brought me a freaking vole. It wasn't even alive. And he was holding it out to me with that stupid smile of his.)

I don't know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I slapped the dead rodent out of his six fingered hand. As it smacked the ground, I saw my patient flinch and begin to step back from me.

"GET YOUR DAMN ROADKILL AWAY FROM ME!"

"I-I'm sorry for upsetting you Dr.Ibis, I only wanted to-"

"What? I don't want to hear about how your "Muse" gave you dead rats as gifts again! It's disgusting! I can't stand dead animals! I don't want you to act like your dramn crazy mu-"

I wasn't even able to finish the sentence before I felt myself getting pushed against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I winced from the surprise as I began to process what happened.

It was that... that... Six fingered psycho!

(What the hell!? What is he doing??)

I was always kinda worried about this guy being the reason why someone ended up hurt, I never expected him to be the literal reason for it!

"DR. IBIS."

An unexpected tone shift from what I was used to from the guy, his voice was now booming and gruff.

(OKAY I'M REALLLY NOT USED TO HIM BEING SO LOUD OR AGGRESSIVE.)

"PLEASE... WATCH WHAT YOU SAY... ABOUT MY MUSE..." His tone lowered into a raspy hiss as the words fell from his mouth.

I really wanted to respond to him, to fight back, SOMETHING. And yet I found myself frozen with fear.

The next thing I know, I felt a rough, trembling hand tilt my head up. My field of vision focusing on the unhinged man in front of me.

"BAD THINGS... HAPPEN TO THOSE W-WHO UPSET HIM..."

(I-is he? Crying? What the hell?? Why is HE the one that's upset here? He was the one who flipped out on me!)

I didn't have much time to process everything as he moved away from me. I heard a loud crunch from the side of me as he did.

(THE HELL?? Did he break something??)

I glanced to the side of me instinctively, there was a hole in the hall next to me.

(Okkkaaay. Well it definitely wasn't the first time the office drywall got punched or broken. Whether that was ever by me at times was something that was a secret I wasn't going to tell any higher ups anytime soon.)

"Hey... Mr.Pines?"

"..."

The guy slowly walked over to the wall at the opposite side of the room, a blank stare on his face, a crimson fluid leaking from one hand onto the floor as he held it to his side, while his other hand clutched his creepy locket to his heart.

Before I could continue speaking, he began whisper to himself while facing the wall.

"i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry."

His head banging against the wall with eerie tempo as he spoke in a whispered voice, his tone now monotone.

"Mr.Pines??"

(What the hell? I knew this guy was probably insane but this was taking it a whole new level!)

"I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY."

The horrid tempo was now picking up speed.

"STANDFORD STOP IT!"

"..."

(He finally responded?)

The room was eerily silent as I tried to process what had even happened. After what felt like an eternity of sitting in awkward silence, the unhinged man I was watching turned around to face me again.

"U-um Dr.Ibis? Forgive me, I spaced out while we were about to finish our conversation earlier. W-what were we speaking about?"

A pretty nasty bruise was now starting to form on his forehead.

(THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT??? WTF WAS THAT???)

I did my best to collect myself. I vaguely some of the info Oleander shared with me about her patient. I think she mentioned how he had certain traumatic triggers or something?? Damnit now I wish I had paid better attention to her phone call that day as she yammered on.

"It... wasn't important. Just...if you're going to leave me dead animals, do ya mind if perhaps you wrap them up before handing me them or something?"

"I-it isn't traditional I suppose, b-but I'll check in with my muse if I could be given grace to do that sort of thing. Forgive me, I don't mean to screw up showing my thanks to you..."

(Geez and now we're back to another episode of watching the saddest man ever. Ick, Oleander I swear you owe me big time for all these bones I'm throwing your patient.)

"Listen I appreciate it, in a way... I just prefer.... live animals? And I don't like rodents very much."

"I-I see... well I can't promise my muse will be happy with any changes, but I'll keep note of that."

"Listen Stan-"

"StanFORD."

"Stanford. Why don't we just pretend today didn't happen? I'm pretty tired today, and it looks like you could use some rest too."

"I... suppose my muse might not mind that. I don't think I can rest, but I know what you mean."

"Thank you Stanford. Now... why don't I drive you over to Oleander's office for a sec? I think she needed to see you for a second."

(Pleasedon'tputupafightohgodIdon'twantyoudyinginmyofficeIdon'twanttodealwiththepaperworkoranyotheraxhahstingproblemsthat'dcomefromthathappening!!)

"I-I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble as long as we don't take TOO long. My muse seems to trust some of her judgement a lot..."

"Yeahh... well I'm just going to close up shop now.

"Of course Dr.Ibis."

(Irene I swear to god you owe me big time on top of a LONG conversation about what's the plan for your patient in the long term. If I'm going to be dragged along with you on your quest to be the queen of bleeding hearts I don't want to end up sinking with you.

Geez I need a drink after this, guess I'll be needing to buy TWO packs of cold ones from the store after this "fun" work day.)

Unfortunately for future me, one of the new "gifts" I'd start to get from Standford FREAKING Pines were eyebats. Live ones. And they were just as annoying as him. Easier to get rid of though...

(AHH I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. I thought I'd gve it a go with writing in a more first person style when it came to a Dr.Ibis focused fic.

Yes I was possessed by a 14 year old girl harnessessing wattpad, ao3, and tiktok as I wrote this, but the idea of these two having a genuine friendship/relationship sounds hilarious to me.

I hope you liked my attempts at channeling Yusuf energy! Unfortunately he does have the tsundere curse a bit because this is a enemies to lovers kind of fic lmaoo. Hopefully the Ford energy wasn't the worst either??

I totally loved your fic other anon fanfic writer! With Jellyskink's permission we should definitely team up and write many cringey and wonderful fanfictions for this au!

Speaking of which, I'm glad once again people liked my silly little Oleander and Calamari fic! The little trickster kitty is now one of my favorite things about the au!

I love that Calamari was in the cat show Ford lost in! I'm guessing she might've won?

Either way, totally looking forward to the rivalry between Ford and Calamari lmaooo!!)

OKAY I LOVE THIS

Ibis is like "why are the hot ones always crazy"

Thank you for writing for my sad dumpling again!!! 💖💖

[crossdressingdeath]

DAI does that with a lot of things. Morrigan gets to claim to be a Elven expert, even though you know that is far from the truth if you've played Origins where she didn't know shit. Cullen gets final say in his dialogue options despite you knowing that he's lying. Grey Wardens gets shit on and the Inquisitor can wildly overstep.

DAI has this weird mix of a) expecting you to have read all the books/comics so that they don't have to explain anything and b) assuming that you haven't played the previous games so they can try to rewrite what happened.

Yeah, the required reading for DAI was ridiculous. WEaWH is always the big one because most of the others you can get by without it (even Cole's backstory isn't necessary to appreciate and understand the character, and enough of it comes up in-game to get by), but knowing what Celene and Gaspard did is kind of fucking important, Bioware. And then even when Celene purging the alienage comes up it's used as a mark against Briala for being in a relationship with her at the time even though if I'm understanding the excerpts I've seen of TME Briala breaks it off as a direct result of the purge and (as Dorian rightly points out) that'd be more Celene's scandal than Briala's anyway. Like, they try to make Celene purging the alienage into Briala's crime because she was sleeping with the empress at the time and that's just... ugh. But it's like, I would argue that it would be fair and honestly best practice to assume that people playing the third game in a series have played the first two games? DA has an overarching narrative even if the connections aren't particularly close, if someone wants to start partway through they can but the writing should expect people to be familiar with the games' stories. Maybe have some codex entries summarizing the previous games or a little intro cutscene, but... I don't know, I'm worried about the fact that apparently DAV doesn't need you to have played the first three games when literally all the setup for it is in DAI. Expecting people to have played all the games in a narrative-driven RPG series and not to have jumped in partway through is fair! Expecting people to have read five supplementary novels and two coffee table lore books to understand the plot is ridiculous. At least Tevinter Nights and The Missing so far seem to only be relevant to DAV in that they show some glimpses of what's been going on between games and give us a point of reference for some of the new characters...

The thing that gets me with DAI is that the game really wants you to side with the Templars whether it makes sense or not. Like... let's take the choice between mages and Templars as an example. The game wants you to side with the Templars. It really does, it tries its best to dissuade the player from siding with the mages if you go that route (Cullen's little "Oh... it's so dangerous... we shouldn't do it..." routine is notable when compared to Leliana and Josie, both of whom favour the mages, being very professional about you picking the Templars), it does its utmost to claim that the rebellion was unwarranted when it absolutely was not, the rebels are constantly framed as weak or mean or evil or stupid while the Templars were just misled (by... a guy who told them he'd let them murder all the mages and left out the "in service to Corypheus" bit, they still joined his little walkout to murder people, but the game doesn't get into that), it even lets you switch quests well past what should've been the point of no return if you're on the mage route (WHY CAN YOU SWITCH AFTER LEARNING THERE'S A FUCKING MAGISTER IN FERELDEN TRYING TO ENSLAVE A BUNCH OF MAGES, BIOWARE, WHY THE FUCK IS THAT AN OPTION) whereas with the Templars you can't even learn what your advisors' plan for getting you in alive is until you're locked in. And I'm not going to lie, CotJ is legitimately the better quest. I did it once to see and god damn it is quality, I don't dislike IHW but... yeah CotJ is definitely stronger.

But then you actually look at the story and... why the fuck would you side with the Templars? They left the Chantry because the Divine told them not to murder people. That's explicit, people tell you that repeatedly. They're making excuses for it, but there's always an acknowledgement that... yep, that's why the Templars left, they wanted to kill people and were mad about being told no. Leliana (the most familiar face among the advisors and given Cassandra's previous appearance was threatening Varric and Cullen's was playing yes man to Meredith for nine years and only changing sides once she became a threat to him/because not doing so would mean fighting Hawke Leliana's the one people are most likely to want to side with) is pro-mage and dismisses Cullen's claims that the Templars could help close the Breach as speculation. Which... it is. This situation is completely unprecedented, no one knows what's going to happen. But given mages are incredibly powerful and Templars are repeatedly portrayed as mostly useless in any sort of real danger that doesn't involve children or indoctrinated Circle mages (it is not a coincidence that the only people locked in the tower in Broken Circle who survive with their minds and bodies intact without the demons actively choosing to let them live for funsies are mages; the only Templar who's alive and unpossessed is Cullen, and the demons very obviously could've killed him at any time and just chose not to because they were having fun toying with him) I'm gonna say the mages are a safer bet. Also because... they invited Quiz. That could be a trap, but you know what's definitely a trap? Walking into a fortress full of heavily-armed mage killers who openly want you dead. Meeting with the Templars is really, really stupid (especially if you're a mage) and you don't even learn the plan for getting you inside unharmed until you actually select the quest. Also that plan is basically just "if there are witnesses with societal power the Templars can't murder you unprovoked" because reminder: the Templars are the absolute worst. Why would you ever want these people around. And then if you meet with the mages first like "Well I'll figure it out once I've heard what they have to say, I don't have to commit if I do things this way so I might as well" you learn that there's a Tevinter magister serving an evil Tevinter cult just chilling in Redcliffe and why the fuck would you go to the Templars at that point this needs to be dealt with. The game wants you to side with the Templars but it gives you no reason to do so, I really wonder sometimes if the writers weren't talking to each other at all.

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part four here)

Oli doesn't try to broach the subject again until the pizza is delivered and the ice cube is a soaked-up puddle in a napkin on the coffee table.

When he does, though, it's with his hands in his lap and his best efforts to not sound like a scolding teacher. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Martyn, in lieu of answering, pulls open the pizza box and wiggles a slice free from the still-stringing cheese. His fingertips bounce it between them, ginger; he bites down and clearly regrets it. Still, he chews, mouth caught in a conflict between ventilating the heat and keeping his secrets sealed tight shut behind it.

"Come on," Oli continues, gentle as he can push it. "I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

Martyn swallows. He looks like he's deliberating.

He must decide, whatever the stakes of this crisis are, that Oli's worth it, because he does reply.

"You know," he says, quiet, "I wasn't kidding when I said you should keep your computer away from me."

"Do you want me to take it upstairs?"

"I mean - bit late now. But yeah, that'd probably help."

So he probably has the conviction that something, somebody, is listening in through the machine. That's understandable; if whatever his situation was involved him being able to join some random strangers' games, he probably had a computer, and it was probably monitored, which would explain why he's so terrified of being tracked. It makes about as much sense as anything else in this exchange does. 

Even if it didn't, though, Oli still would have taken his laptop back upstairs, tapped out a quick notice that he'd be unavailable for the rest of the day, and tossed it on his bed - and his phone beside it, after a moment's thought. Martyn's comfort is what really matters here.

"There we are," he says on his way back in, "the highest-tech thing in the room now is probably the microwave."

Martyn offers him a thin smile, which feels more like progress than anything else.

"Right." He sits back down, takes his own piece of pizza (which by now is a far more edible temperature than it must have been when Martyn tried it), and gets the whole thing down before he takes another shot. "You want to start, or shall I?"

Martyn exhales amusement. "Go on then. Tell me what you know."

"Not a lot," Oli admits, "apparently. You don't make a lot of sense. You fell out of the sky, you still seem fairly surprised that things are real, you didn't know we’d been playing Minecraft - and you were calling me CHEST agent, which isn't a job title my company offers, as far as I'm aware. What, were you born in a video game?"

"I told you I was born in Nottingham."

"That might have been a cover story!"

"Nah. Wouldn't lie about that. I am a real boy, Gepetto, you can believe me on that one."

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure about you," Oli says. "All this talk of being in there, though. I don't know. VR?"

"Something like. You -" he hushes his voice, even though it's the middle of the afternoon and the neighbours won't be home "- you're, like, a normal CHEST employee, then? Front end stuff?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm a software dev. If it's a front, I'm not in on the secret."

"God," says Martyn, "okay, so you're still not safe, but… okay, telling you this now, you're not getting the whole truth. But your company sucks and you should quit your job."

"Sucks like questionable QA policies or sucks like torturing teenagers in the basement?"

"I - shit," says Martyn, "a lot of those agents might have been folks like me, huh. Damn. Least I never killed anyone."

"I seem to remember you being pretty handy with a knife."

"Yeah, 'cause none of that was real, I was a bloody rat in a maid dress. You can't be on at me for killing people there."

"Suppose Jimmy killed the gardener."

"Exactly!"

"So, what, CHESTCorp have figured out how to turn VR into R, and you got caught up in it?"

"Not CHEST," Martyn takes another go at his slice of pizza, "just Doc. It's real experimental stuff. You're lookin' at test subject number one, I'm pretty sure."

"And now that you're not a test subject any more," he finishes, "you're having trouble readjusting."

"I guess. It's just… y'know, like, it's nice to be back, but… weird. Incredibly weird."

"Two and a half years would do it," Oli nods.

They take another lull to properly eat. Oli hadn't realised before this how starving he is; he would have thrown something together from the groceries he'd picked up if he hadn't had a guest to entertain. Martyn, too, seems fairly intent on ingesting an entire pizza by himself. His mother’s voice sounds inside his head, urging him to slow down, but Oli ignores it. If Martyn ends up with stomach problems it’ll just be another stark reminder that he’s not… trapped in a virtual reality simulator, he supposes.

“So, er,” he picks back up, once they’ve cleared the wedges and made more than a dent in the pizza, “what now?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve gone through all that. Nobody’s going to believe you, I assume, if this stuff’s as top-secret as it seems to be.”

“Kinda thing you’d need a two-hour primer with your therapist for,” Martyn nods, “and a lot of faith in doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“But, what, do you just… go home?”

“I’d like to,” he says. “I would really, really just like things to go back to normal.”

There’s a silence. But they can’t rings clear as a bell in the air between them anyway.

Martyn looks down at the last three slices of pizza. “You should take me home.”

“You’re sure?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be a big surprise for my parents when they get back home from work. And then I’ll add you guys on Discord, and hopefully we’ll be able to talk more on there?”

“Hopefully,” says Oli, meaning it more than anything. His entire life’s been pretty much flipped on its head by this encounter. “We’re always wondering about you, y’know. Or, I mean, I am. Owen probably thinks you’re there from Apo, Apo probably thinks you’re there from Owen, all that, but… Hard not to wonder who the hell you really were, when you would never act like it was actually a game.”

“I mean, it’s all a game, isn’t it, really?” Martyn muses, half-distant. “Just in the long dream now.”

“Is that from the End Poem?”

“Is it?”

Oli shakes his head. No time for all that. “So I’m driving you back to Nottingham, and… you’ll DM me when you can?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the best he can ask for.

Martyn refuses to tell Oli his exact address, just asks him to drive close enough that Martyn can walk the rest of the way home. It’s understandable - a CHESTCorp employee knowing Martyn’s exact location is, apparently, an incredibly dangerous thing - but still a little concerning. He’d at least like to be sure that Martyn won’t be getting poached back by this Doc guy at the earliest notice. Still, Martyn’s comfort remains the most important thing, and so he leaves his Google Maps at home.

It’s a bit of an autopilot drive, even without directions. Oli feels the wheel under his fingers, the pedals under his feet, like they’re abstracts. He looks over once or twice and sees Martyn glued to the window, to the mirrors, hypervigilant; he hopes that Martyn feels a little more real now than he did before.

They’re idle at a semi-populated roundabout when Martyn straightens his back. “Second exit, then pull over,” he announces.

“Almost there?”

“Pretty close.”

Oli obliges.

Martyn, with just the barest tremor in his fingers, pops the car door and steps out.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The words leave Oli’s mouth in a rush, the emotion behind them probably more visceral than Martyn is expecting, if the way he startles at them is any indication.

“Because - ‘cause if you need a hotel, or cash, or -”

“No,” says Martyn, “no, I’m fine. Promise.”

He hesitates, hand on the open car door, a few more seconds.

“And thanks,” he finishes, “I don’t - I’m not - I don’t know. Appreciate it.”

Oli understands what he’s getting at. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Nah, I’m gonna throw myself right in the Trent when you’re gone,” Martyn smiles, and Oli dutifully ignores the crack in his voice. Blame it on the last vestiges of teenagehood.

“And if you do end up needing to - I suppose erase all traces of your old life online… then it’s been an honour.”

“Yeah.”

“... Good luck.”

“Talk to you later,” Martyn says, and slams the car door closed.

All Oli can do, once he’s ambled out of eyeshot, is mechanically drive back home.

So that was InTheLittleWood. Friend group cryptid, unethical experiment, man with more trauma than Oli could ever begin to help him deal with… but man he was able to feed, and house, and walk through an emotional response, which is better than nothing at all. The one person in the world who Oli could almost hit with his car and have that be a better situation than the one he’d just escaped from. Still a mystery, too; he’s left Oli with far more questions than answers, left him returning to an empty house and wishing he’d been selfish enough to make Martyn stay a little longer, talk a little more.

Oli picks up his phone where he’d tossed it in the bedroom.

He has one new email to his work address.

Human Resources 3:04 PM

to me ˅

Subject: Performance Review

Dear Oliver,

You have been scheduled for a performance review. You are required to report to our Shoreditch location by 09:00 tomorrow, Tuesday December 12th. Failure to comply with this request will result in disciplinary proceedings, which may lead to your subsequent termination.

Regards,

Dan

Human Resources

CHESTCorp UK

Ah.

That’s… well.

The word termination is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that threat.

… Okay, so they’re working to a deadline now. That’s fine. He can deal with that. Martyn’s been dealing with far worse, right?

The friend request, at least, flips through from pending to accepted.

TheOrionSound — Today at 16:14

[Attachment: Screenshot_20231025_161408.png]

InTheLittleWood — Today at 16:14

Shit.

(end! now on ao3, if you’d like to leave a comment slash kudos slash bookmark!)

[lwde-encrusted-sideblog]

Something something Pyrrha kabedon Jaune which leads to- whatever happens next, I don't know.

Jaune: ... So then you have a choice - Join the Legion, Follow Mister House, join the NCR, or be a wildcard - take The Strip for yourself!

Pyrrha: *Not understanding anything he's saying* That's a neat way to take the story! What did you ch- *Sees a spider on the Wall near Jaune*

Pyrrha: Look out! *Kills spider, kabedoning Jaune in the process*

Jaune: *Blushing* Th-Thanks Pyrrha ...

Pyrrha: ... Jaune?

Jaune: Y-Yes?

Pyrrha: What's Poking my thigh?

Jaune: ... C-Crocea Mors?

Pyrrha: *Grabbing his Bulge* Oh Jaune~ I don't like it When people lie to me~

Jaune: P-PYRRHA?

Pyrrha: But if you do have another sword, You should let me help train you!~

Jaune: ...

Pyrrha: And what a Greatsword it is~

Pyrrha: I'm going to MILK you.

~~~~~

Pyrrha: *Slamming Jaune's hips into hers, Amazon Position* FUCK! YOU HID THIS FROM ME!

Jaune: PyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrha!

Pyrrha: GODS DAMN! YOU HIT SO DEEP!

Jaune: *Aura Flaring*

Pyrrha: NO MORE HOLDING BACK JAUNE! LET IT OUT!

Jaune: PYYYRRHAA! S-SLOW DOWN!

Pyrrha: CUM JAUNE!

Jaune: WHAT IF YOU GET PREGNANT!

Pyrrha: THAT'D BE FANTASTIC!

Jaune: P-Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: *SLAM* CUM *SLAM* IN-*SLAM* SIDE! *SLAMSLAMSLAM*

Jaune: O-O-OH FFFFFUUUUUUHHHH!

Jaune Came, and Came Hard, at the same time Pyrrha did, her vice-like grip on his dick nearly breaking it, as the two collapsed into a sweaty, smelly, heaving pile.

Pyrrha: *Cups Jaune's Nuts* These are Mine. You got that? No other girls, only Me.

Jaune: Y-Yeah.

Pyrrha: Are the sore?

Jaune: Yeah ...

Pyrrha: then let me take care of them~

She began gently sucking on the wrung-out testes, almost completely drained from the near religious experience Jaune just had.

[thatonefatgumsimp]

alr ykw

liveblogging my reaction to tadc episode 3, let's

Goooooooooo!!

So ready to get autistic over my blorbos /sillyyyy

under the cut for ease of scrolling past :p

"and Zooble turns straight" I CAN'T, I'M- 💀 NAHHHH BRO HAD TO HAVE KNOWN WTH HE WAS DOING WITH THAT ONE

"What do you, the viewers, think it is?" You scrunch into a tiny bunny ball and get short. Final answer.

THE WAY CAINE'S FREAKING EYES NO CLIP THROUGH HIS TEETH, I'M- 😭 CAINE WHY /lhsilly

AWEHHHH GHOSTLY 🥺

✨z o o b l e g o e s t o t h e r a p y✨ /sillyyyyyy

That's a cool bee, you're doing great sweetie (probably still listen to Zoob tho)

Pomni really said let me innnn LET ME INNNNNN!! /sillyyyyy

"I love that it's locked ):<" me-core

"Do not let the head out of your sight" OH SHI-

THE 2D ANIMATED EYES!!!!! /POS I'M GOIMG TO EXPLODE

AUGH THE EYES!! THE CREEPY EYES BEHIND THEM! POMNI! POMNI TURN AROUND!!! POMNI IT'S RIGHT BEHIND YPU POBNI!!!!!

"Any torment I inflict is 100% accidental!! Just like any good war criminal." LMAOOOOOOO, CAINE- I'M- YOU'RE KILLIBG ME HERE, BUDDY- literally iconic line frrr, he acknowledges his warcrimes. We love a self-aware king /sillyyy

"I'm trying my best to remember what you and my brain won't tell me!!" He's so real for that tho...ADHD gang rISE UP! /sillyyyyyy

"What…what you're saying is that…I could be bad at the only thing I'm good at…and…that'd be…" It's OK to have a mental breakdown, bud, let it all out. There there...

Caine existential crisis arc while Kinger and Pomni are going through the horrors™ smh…/sillyyy

"How's about we take his gun?" KINGER GUN ARC POG?????

"Looks like we've got two shots…let's make it count" What if Kinger with a gun kinda scares me a bit /lhsilly ...like, he sounds so calm and composed, it's...unnatural for him...kinda unsettling...fits with the spooky vibes of the ep tho

"Which is what I would be saying if it wasn't one of God's angels" WHAT. WHAT. WHAT???!! BI- WHAT?!????? THE FREAKING PLOT TWIST- I'M- My brain is melting

"And your bodies will be my only means of doing so" HOLD UP. WAIT A MINUTE! SOMETHIN AIN'T RIGHT-

"I HATE THIS STUPID ADVENTURE!!" real…✊😔 Honestly a fair reaction given the current situation...although mine woulda been worse I think-

Awehhhhh 🥺 girl's tea party ✨, so real for that actually

"You know how men are…always having the silliest priorities" "don't I know it" *turns to Jax tied up* I WOULD say 'free my boy, he's done nothing wrong', but we all know that's a lie, he's a war criminal just like his dad Caine /SILLYYYYYYYY

"I wonder how long that'll be" probably a while, Gangle…

"How could I not be in literal hell right now???!?" First digital hell, now this smh…/sillyyyyyy

FRICK! NOOOOO MY GIRL'S BEING POSSESSED!! NOOOOOOOOOO- POMNI-! 😭

"YOU GET OUT OF HER, YOU DAMN EVIL SOULS!" 🗣️🔥🔥 YOOOO HE SAID DAMN, THAT'S ALLOWED HERE??? LET MY BOY COOK!! 🔥🔥🔥

"HOW'S YOUR WIFE, KINGER?" THAT'S EEEEEEVIL D: WTH, BRO HE'S ALREADY DEALING WITH THAT BUZZ OFF-

O.O wait...the breath holding from the beginning of the ep…QUICK, POMNI, BECOME RGB KEYBOARD!! KINGER, BECOME FLASHLIGHT!

"Why have you been acting so different lately?" NO, CUZ THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYINGGGGGG /lh

NOOOOOO- CHECKMATES (idk their ship name, shhhhhhh edit: it previously said chessboard, changed BC of the socks iykyk) ANGST NOOOOOOO- GOOSE. GOOSE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME- I'M- 😭

"She was funny, creative, really into entomology" STOPPPPP I'M CRYING, THE WAY HE TALKS SO LOVINGLY ABOUT HER, I'M- HOLD ON, I NEED A MOMENT…WAITWAOTWAITWAITWAIT- I'M-

…CHAT I NEED TO WRITE AND OR DRAW AND OR READ SOME CHECKMATES FLUFF, THIS IS KILLING ME /lhsilly

"I used to hate bugs, but…she somehow got me to like them" AWEHHHHHHH-! 🥺 GOOSE. GOOSE WHAT THE HECK, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY- /pos Chat, I'm melting into a puddle, help-

"But it's not. Not if you have people who care about you." I'M- GOOSE STOP 😭 SOBBING- I WAS PROMISED PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR, NOT THERAPY /sillyyyyyyyy

"In this world, the worst thing you can do is make people feel like they're not wanted or loved" OMG REAL!! 🗣️🔥🔥 ...and on that note, ily, moots and followers 🫶💖

"Maybe we can get through if we don't breathe!" CHAT. CHAT THEY FIGURED IT OUT!! KINGER, MY BOY!!!! YOU'RE SO SMART!!!!!!

AUGH KINGER GIVES SUCH DAD VIBES /POS I NEED A DAD-FRIEND LIKE THAT IN MY LIFE FRR-

OMG WAIT- KINGER HOLDING HIS BREATH IS THAT ONE MEME

THIS ONE-! QUICK, SOMEONE GO EDIT THAT!! /SILLYYYYY /NF

"Hey, Ragatha…I just wanna say…thanks for always being concerned about me" EXPLODING RN, CHAT- CERTIFIED BUTTONBLOSSOM MOMENT????? /SILLYYYY

"Did you remember to get my comedy mask?" "…F**K-!" KINGER SWORE??????? OMG???? REAL, LET HIM COOK- LET HIM COOOOOOOK!!

CAINE IN THERAPY LMAOOOOOOO REAL

"quick, pretend we weren't having a therapy session!" LMAOOOO?? CAINE IS SO SILLAYY-

"Wwwwwelcome back, my meowing milkmaids!!" "…don't ever call us that again." Lmaooooo Jax-

...

Screaming

Crying

Clawing at my cage

That was so good- I'm-

Hold on, chat, I'm going feral rn /sillyy

[bravevulnerability]

Hi! Huge fan of your writing. I come back to fics repeatedly when I need a pick-me-up or the urge to re-read a certain one. Believing Is Seeing is one of my top faves..I was wondering if you'd consider ever doing a fic in which Kate is the disabled one with a service dog. After getting injured on the job (not relating to her mom's case cause that'd be awful) she's depressed and the dog helps heal her spirit & give life back. Maybe AU meeting or he runs into them after he left for some reason.

A/N: I’m not quite sure if this is what you’re hoping for, anon. But I really hope you’re able to enjoy it. :)

-

It’s his scent that hits her first. 

Kate’s fingers stutter over the page of the book she’s trying to read. Granted, she tells herself, there are probably tons of men scattered throughout this city with the same cologne, the same aftershave, but… there’s something mixed in with the scent that has always been only him. 

Dovah rustles at her feet, squirming from beneath the cafe table to investigate the approaching figure. But her dog’s lack of growl, lack of tension, and the soft touch of the coffee cup to the table in front of her only confirms it.

“Grande skim latte, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla still your order?”

After three months of not hearing it, his voice is like a tidal wave to her senses. Deep, rich, devastating.

She clears her throat, closes the book she’s been attempting to get through for the last week. Her braille has improved magnificently in the past few months, but reading for the sake of pleasure has yet to become pleasurable again. 

Dovah whimpers, an affectionate sound of greeting she typically reserves only for Kate. 

And one other person.

“Dovah,” Castle says warmly. She catches the dip in his voice, the likely lowering to his haunches to greet the dog, and feels Dovah rush forward into Rick’s waiting arms. With anyone else, her dog would be skittish, skeptical, ready to snap at the smallest hint of danger or discomfort aimed at Kate. But she’d never turn on Rick. 

He’s the one who got her the damn dog in the first place.

“Castle,” she murmurs, gingerly reaching forward to skim her fingertips along the travel cup he’s placed on the table. 

Her hearing is better than before, far more honed since the loss of what she once considered her most vital sense. She catches the shallow intake of his breath with ease, listens to the thick swallow that trembles down his throat. 

“Kate.” He rises slowly, releasing the air held hostage in his lungs. “You look good.”

She remembers his face, never forgot it. She remembers the defined angles of his jaw, his cheeks and the apples that formed in them when he smiled, the harsh slope of his nose, and those ocean eyes. God, she hates how much she misses looking at him, wishes she did more of it when she had the chance. He was beautiful.

“Wish I could say the same.”

He chokes on a startled noise, a horrified hint of laughter that has her lips cracking a smile that’s been non-existent since… since she made him leave. 

The smile falls clean off her face. 

“How long have you been in here?”

She wonders if he’s doing that ‘boy caught in the act’ kind of shrug she was once quite fond of. 

“Maybe ten minutes,” he estimates, but it sounds like a lie. “Can I sit with you?”

She refrains from biting her lip, knowing it’ll give her away. Instead, her fingers curl around the travel cup’s sleeve, guiding it to her lips.

“Just until I finish my coffee.”

-

Dovah drapes herself across their feet, her body pressed against Rick’s shin, her head on Kate’s boots. It’s a habit she remembers forming back when he first brought the dog home. Well, to Kate’s home. 

“How is Alexis? She messaged me about the application process for Stanford a few weeks ago,” she reveals softly, knowing he’s rooting for Alexis to choose a New York - or at least an East Coast - school for college. 

“Ah, yeah, she let me know she was going to reach out to you,” he murmurs. She can hear his knuckles cracking lightly, the slight inhale of his breath. “I told her that I hoped she had better luck than me.”

Her lips purse. 

“But otherwise, she’s great. How’s your summer been, Kate?” The bitterness is quiet, but threaded like poison through his words, stinging her.

Miserable, she wants to blurt, but takes a long sip of her coffee instead. 

“I’ve just been getting accustomed to my new job,” she admits, brushing her thumb back and forth along the sleeve of her cup. “Can’t live off savings forever.”

“How’s transcription work going in the courts?” he asks her, his voice lowering to a perfect tenor. 

Her hearing has felt enhanced since she’s lost what was initially her main sense of identification, and he always knew it sometimes felt too loud in the world now. 

“I saw the guys recently,” he adds by way of explanation.

Kate releases a shaky breath, traces the plastic rim of her coffee cup. “I hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the apology so earnest, overlapping his irritation. It has her chest aching. 

After the accident, Castle stepped up for her, became her source of comfort, her listening ear, her… everything. More than he was before somehow. 

She hasn’t been able to open up to anyone else, not like she did with him. Not even her therapist. 

“I told you, you could’ve been a trophy wife.”

She laughs despite herself. “Yeah, I’m sure that would have worked out great.”

“What about editing? You could be my editor!”

Her eyes roll. “Castle.”

“C’mon, you’re a total grammar snob. I could have it printed in braille. We still have that special printer at the house!” he recalls, the excitement building slow but true in his voice. “All you’d have to do is go over it for me and tell me where all the wrong commas and run-on sentences are.”

Reluctantly, Kate removes her hand from her coffee, reaches across the table space between them until her fingers knock against his. With a shallow breath, she hooks her pinky around his, squeezes gently.

“Thank you, but I don’t think the literary world is for me.” She sighs and begins to let go, but he gingerly flips his hand under hers, encompasses her fingers in his palm. “Don’t worry about me, Castle.”

He scoffs at her. 

“Kate, that’s not something I can just turn off.”

She swallows hard and pulls her hand back. 

“It was really good to… sit with you again,” she finishes lamely, clicking her tongue once and feeling Dovah rise to attention beneath the table. 

“Kate.”

She ignores him, fixing the leash around her wrist and rising from the chair. 

“Please tell Alexis and Martha hi for me,” she adds softly, brushing her knuckles to his shoulder. “Dovah, home.” 

Dovah leads her to the door, out into the growing chill of the city. The coffee shop she frequents is only a couple of blocks from her apartment, a safe place where she can pretend to be normal for a little while, and an easy venture for Dovah to guide her through.

It only takes her a few minutes of walking down the sidewalk to huff in irritation. 

“If you think I can’t feel you right there-”

“It’s so creepy how you do that,” Castle curses, but then his hand is curling delicately along her inner arm. It’s a warm, familiar touch that penetrates the layers of her clothing. A touch that has her chest tightening. “Just listen to me, then I’ll leave. I haven’t seen you in three months, you owe me this.”

Kate exhales through her nose. “Fine.”

“You know I love you-“

“Castle,” she breathes, her heart constricting inside her sternum, arteries tangling into knots.

“And I know it must have scared you, that you probably have some weird idea in your head that it’s all some pity crush I developed after you lost your sight, but Kate… I was done for from the moment you crashed my book party and you know it,” he murmurs, his voice low but so matter of fact. “Working with you for the past year leading up to the explosion… Beckett, you have to have known.”

She chews on her lip until she tastes the spill of copper on her tongue. 

“When that asshole blew up your apartment, I ran for my life to get to you, because that’s what you had become-”

“Rick, please-”

“You, my daughter, my mother… you’re my life. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to lose so much - your sight, your home, your job. I would give anything to trade places with you, to give it all back-”

That has her jerking to a stop. “No.”

“I just-”

“Are we on a crowded sidewalk?” 

Usually she would know the answer without help, but the blood is rushing in her ears. 

“No, we’re on Franklin street, at the crosswalk before your apartment,” he relays patiently. “There’s some traffic, but nothing too severe.”

“Good, then listen to me,” she mutters, turning her face towards him. “Even knowing what I know now, I would endure it all again if it meant saving you this fate, okay? You running into a burning building for me was bad enough.”

“I would do it again-”

“That is the problem!” she growls, jerking her arm from him and clicking her tongue twice.

Dovah trots forward. She knows Castle is at her back, following her home. 

“Ms. Beckett, Mr. Castle,” the doorman greets, confirming her suspicion.

The elevator doors slide closed, trapping the two of them in the lift, Dovah sitting patiently between them.

“You have a brilliant daughter, a wonderful mother, and amazing talent, Castle. All I gave you,” she murmurs, reaching forward, taking those beautiful hands in hers, cradling the scorched skin, the uneven patches of flesh. He ran into a burning building for her when Scott Dunn set her apartment aflame, he picked through searing debris to pull her charred body from the ashes. The door that landed on her actually shielded her from the worst of the fire, but his hands are covered in second and third degree burns that will take years to fully heal. “Is pain.”

“Wounds heal, Kate.”

“You lost feeling you’ll never get back in some areas,” she whispers, her thumb skirting along the edge of his wrist, the outer bone of his index finger - spots she’s memorized. “You can barely write.”

“You think I didn’t know the risks?” He draws his hands back from hers. “We’ve had this conversation, you’re just too damn stubborn to listen.” His hands touch her cheeks, palms cradling her jaw. “I wanted you more.”

The elevator chimes and she steps out of his grasp, taking the well-memorized path to her apartment, snagging the keys from inside her coat.

“So is that it?” he questions at her back, voice raising. She walks in, leaves the door open, and unhooks Dovah from the leash. “We spend months together, healing, being… happy and you just - you get scared and we’re done?”

Kate shrugs the coat from her shoulders, tosses it on the couch. She doesn’t want to think about the months that followed the explosion - the months spent in the loft with him and his family once they were both released from the hospital. Agent Shaw successfully arrested Scott Dunn, but she could barely find the will to care, to feel any sort of victory. 

The doctors told her she was blind - temporary or permanent, it was too soon to know, but the blunt force trauma from the blast had her head slamming hard against the floor, a random piece of furniture, a wall - no one knew - and she woke up unable to see. The last thing she remembers is a blurry image of Castle, stripping off his coat and wrapping her battered body in his arms, carrying her to safety. 

The first month was nothing but grief for her. Grieving her sight and the domino effect of loss that came with it - her career, her apartment, her… her purpose, her mom’s murder. All of it was out of reach now, gone. 

Castle was the only thing to remain in the darkness. 

He snuck into her hospital room every night, listening intently to her confess her fears, her anger, her pain. The first time he crawled into the hospital bed beside her, she let him hold her, bandaged hands at her back. 

“I’m never going to see you again,” she rasped into his throat, tears finally falling. “Castle, I can’t see you.”

She buried sobs into his neck, fell asleep against his chest. 

He didn’t let her argue about where she would stay once they were released. They moved what little possessions she still owned into his bedroom. He refused to make her walk upstairs until she was more familiar with her surroundings and her blindness. She refused to let him stay in the guest room.

Their routine from the hospital carried on into the new normal of her life. They would spend mornings in the same buildings, in different areas of burn units and physical therapy clinics, and then he would take her on a walk through the calmer parts of the city - his favorite parks, the length of the High Line, along the Hudson on the west side of Manhattan. He couldn’t hold her hand, so she gripped tightly to the arm of his sweater, trusting him with her life as he led her through a city she once thought she could navigate with her eyes closed. They would return to the loft eventually, the two of them figuring out how to make dinner together (“I’m literally blind and you can’t use your hands, this will be great,” she muttered the first time, making him choke on a laugh) and spending evenings with his mother and daughter. 

Alexis threw herself into learning braille, rushing in after school and meeting Kate in the dining room with a stack of books tucked under her arms. Together, they would pour over materials, memorizing a new alphabet, talking through the hardest parts.

She still misses her study partner. 

At the end of the night, Rick would touch her shoulder and lead her to his bedroom. She would shower and he would wait outside the bathroom to ensure she maneuvered through the process safely. Once dressed, she would help cover his fingers in the cooling, antibiotic salve the doctors prescribed him. 

“They’re feeling a little better,” she would examine, the varying terrains of his skin like a map to her fingers. The broken skin and cracked flesh ranged from the tips of multiple fingers to the edges of his wrists, luckily going no further. The doctor had personally promised her that Castle would heal fine, but the assurances failed to assuage her guilt. 

“They’re looking better each day,” he would confirm, gingerly sweeping his thumb along hers. “They definitely hurt less.”

After wrapping his hands, washing hers, she would crawl into bed beside him, sinking into the warmth of his mattress and the safety of his body next to hers. 

The routine instilled a level of trust in him she never thought she was capable of, but he proved worthy of it. No longer was he the playboy wannabe she had begun to doubt was an act all along; instead, she was met with a man who would stay up all night with her when she couldn’t sleep, who swore to her with fierce reassurance that she would be okay, that she would reclaim her life, and that he would be there for her every step of the way. 

He was the man who - exactly a month after the accident - got her a dog straight out of the best academy of guide dogs for the blind that he could find. 

“Her name is Dovah. She’s eighteen months old, a german shepherd mix, has bright blue eyes, brown and white fur, and she’s very happy to meet you,” he murmured, barely contained joy in his voice as she listened to him set the dog on the bed with her that morning. 

Kate reached out hesitantly and immediately felt the dog’s head come up under her palm. 

“Her handlers said she was strong, dedicated, and extremely protective. Reminded me of you.”

The smile had tugged on her lips and they had spent the morning practicing commands with a dog that became a lifeline for her. 

Castle helped her find her new apartment shortly after, swearing it was exactly her style, and enjoying every moment of helping her shop for and furnish the place. 

“It’ll be weird without you,” she confessed to him that first night she moved into the new building in Tribeca. 

They were standing together in a bedroom she couldn’t see, but apparently, he had outfitted her bed with purple sheets and put pictures of her parents on the nightstand. Her appliances were all fitted with braille instruction, Dovah was set up in the living room, Alexis had even made her a map to be sure she wouldn’t get lost in the new place - she had everything she could need. 

He reached for her hand with still healing fingers, drew hers to his cheek so she could “see” his expression while he spoke. 

“I’m just a phone call away. Less than ten minutes from here, five if I make a run for it,” he promised her, but her fingers trailed along his cheek, traveling the planes of his face. 

Her thumb skimmed the paper thin skin beneath his eyes, following the soft wrinkles expanding from the edge of his lashes to his temple. 

“What if I don’t want you to go?”

His breath was uneven, but he kissed her palm. “Then I won’t.”

Her fingers curled, as if she could trap his kiss there. But instead, she lowered them to his chin, steadied her hand there as she stepped closer. 

“Castle?”

His hands were touching her waist, steadying her, guiding her near. “Yes?”

She tipped her head up, pretended she could still see the ocean blue of his eyes on her. Their noses bumped, the heat of his breath skittering across her lips, and she lowered her fingers to his neck, felt the race of his pulse beneath the skin. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

It took only a moment for him to close the distance, kissing her gentle and slow and wonderful. She learned then that when Richard Castle kissed her, she could see the stars again. 

She hummed into his kiss, gently shut the bedroom door so not to startle Dovah, already dozing on her new couch. 

“Stay.” His mouth curved into a smile against hers. “Stay with me, Rick.”

“Yes,” he whispered, pressing her into the new bed. 

For months more, she forgot to feel afraid. She let herself enjoy the days leading up to the summer, let herself exist in the bubble of her new life with Castle and Dovah and his family. 

Until he told her he loved her, lying in his bed on a Tuesday night after a game of special braille scrabble with his daughter and a long shower together in his bathroom.

“I love you,” he murmured in the quiet of the night, the scars of his hands scraping along her cheekbone. The returning words were already swollen in her throat, how much she loved him back, but… all she could see behind her eyes was how much Castle loved her. What he did for those he loved.

Bursting into burning buildings, ruining his body, turning his life upside down. All for her. 

She couldn’t say it back, so she kissed him, hoped he felt it, hoped he knew. Because the next day, she took Dovah, went home, and asked him for space. 

“If it’s because of what I said-”

“No,” she told him over the phone, her face buried in her pillow, Dovah curled into her chest as if she could keep Kate’s heart from further fracturing. “No, Castle. I just - we’ve been through a lot these last few months and I need some time.”

“Okay, how much time?”

“I don’t know, I’ll - I’ll call you,” she lied, fisting her fingers in Dovah’s thick fur. 

She didn’t call. She forced herself not to call and she hated herself for it, for how much she knew it had to hurt. But he didn’t deserve the life she could give him, the sad world of leading around a blind woman who would always be mourning the past. 

She didn’t call because she loved him back, and she wanted better for him. 

The press of his chest at her back jerks her to the present. His palms are warm over her shoulders, his hips a bracket around hers, and she can’t help it, she leans into him.

“I miss you, Kate,” he mumbles into her hair. “My kid misses you, my mother. I’ve missed you so much the last three months. Just tell me how to fix whatever I did-”

“No,” she rasps, digging the heel of her hand into one of her useless eyes. “Rick, it isn’t you. It was never you. I’m damaged goods and I wanted more for you. I want to be more-”

“What are you talking about?” She’s shaking, her chest quivering with tears she’s been holding in for months. His arms are around her now, holding her together, and she scrambles to find his hands, to layer her palms over his scarred knuckles. “What the hell are you talking about and why weren’t we talking about this sooner? Why did you disappear on me?”

“Because I love you too,” she chokes out, shifting in his arms to face him, to lift trembling hands to his face, feel the downturned curve of his mouth, the ache in his eyes that radiates to his cheeks. “I love you and it scares me. It scares me to love someone like this, to let you love me, to - to risk losing it all. And god, Castle, I just - I didn’t want you stuck with me. I didn’t want you to think you had to love me because I’m so - so broken-”

His lips quiet her, sealing over her words and stealing her breath. Kate groans, fanning her fingers at his cheek to feel the work of his jaw, fisting her other hand in the worn fabric of a flannel she’s felt before. Her back bumps into the door and then her world is nothing but the sensation of Castle kissing her again, his body flush with hers, hands in her hair, angling her face upwards so he can kiss her deeper. 

“You are not broken,” he growls into her mouth, nipping on her bottom lip. “You are the same woman I knew before the explosion. You are strong, you are caring, and you are hot.”

Her lips crack into a watery smile beneath his. 

“And everything in between, Kate Beckett. You are everything I want. Always have been. Living together, healing together - it just made me fall in love with you faster,” he murmurs, dusting his lips to the corner of her mouth, the bone of her cheek, the lid of a closed eye. “But don’t think for a second that we wouldn’t have ended up here sooner or later, no matter what.”

His forehead drops against hers. 

“God, you’re so damn stubborn and I am so angry with you right now,” he mutters into her cheek, the words vibrating against her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I panicked,” she admits, caressing the lines of his jaw with exploratory fingertips, the frown on his lips, the crease of his brow. “I thought - I was scared and I wanted to be selfless. I figured you would see how much I took from your life once I was gone.”

“Stupid,” he corrects, earning a huff, but he only nuzzles closer to her. “Stupid sometimes, but still extraordinary. That never changed, Kate.”

She cranes her neck, finds the corner of his mouth with her lips. “I’m so sorry, Castle.” He turns into the kiss, lets her have the work of his mouth for a long moment before he bumps his nose against hers. “I understand if you need time to-”

“No,” he gruffs, fingers bruising against her hips. “I gave you time, space. No more.”

She sighs, trails her fingers down his throat, caressing collarbones. 

“No,” she agrees, staining another apology along his chin. “I don’t want any more space either. I just want you.”

His arms wrap around her, damaged hands splaying firm at her spine. 

“Come back home,” he mumbles into her lips. “I’m not asking you to move in yet, just come watch movies on my couch, play scrabble with my kid, share my bed with me three to four nights a week.”

A quiet laugh echoes between them, she ignores the little flip of her heart at his yet, and nods. 

“Yes, but can we… can I have you to myself tonight, Castle?” she whispers, feeling his adam’s apple bob beneath the flutter of her fingertips. “These last three months… I ruined our summer and I want to make it up to you, but I want to talk this through. I need to be better about talking.”

Rick’s lips brush the skin between her brows, a pleased little quirk of his mouth against her skin. “Of course. Let me just text Alexis, let her know what’s going on so she doesn’t worry.”

“If she’s not okay with it-”

“She missed you, Kate, was a little confused and disappointed when you stopped seeing me, but I don’t think she’s upset with you,” he reassures her.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow, take her for coffee or something,” she murmurs aloud, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I’m sure she’ll love that.”

“I’ll bring Dovah, I know that’s who you guys really missed.”

She hears the click of her dog’s nails on the hardwood floor across the room, likely coming in from the kitchen that houses her food and water bowls. 

“I mean, she was certainly an added benefit to your presence,” Castle sighs, drawing her from the door, fingers sliding down her arms to find her hands. 

She laces her fingers through his. 

“Where are we going?” she asks, even though she already has an idea.

“To your room, to talk, maybe do some packing,” he chirps, guiding her along after him, but she can hear the grin in his voice, the mischief that lies there. 

“That all?”

“Well, if we can squeeze it in, I was planning on showing you how much I missed you, maybe punishing you a little bit for making me miss you that much for the whole summer,” he muses, one of his arms jerking with what she assumes is a shrug. “But only if we have the time. It’s still early, there’s always tonight.”

“No,” she murmurs, covering the space between them when he slows. Her chest touches his and she swears she can feel the acceleration of his heart against hers. “We have longer.”

[caffeinc]

Hozier Unreleased Songs Lyric Prompts

Devil -

❝ I’d walk on cloven hoof if you were the home I was walkin' to ❞

❝ I'd burn every soul I knew if I thought the fire was warmin' you ❞

❝ I'd be what men fear in the woods ❞

❝ I'd piss on heaven's gate if I could ❞

❝ I'm straight on the level ❞

❝ I'd be the devil as long as your lovin' was good ❞

Blood-

❝ Tryin' hard to recognise some pure motive inside of me ❞

❝ A creature that would horrify any child that I used to be ❞

❝ Oh, give no faith to show ❞

❝ Started to smile so I showed my teeth ❞

❝ No more than flesh and bone ❞

❝ Doin' so much just to watch someone bleed ❞

❝ Oh, I love the very blood of you ❞

❝ It keeps its heat in spite of you ❞

❝ Oh, the heart that beats ❞

❝ To keep you here with me always ❞

❝ Tryin' hard, I nearly find innocence in spite of me ❞

❝ A creature that would terrify any child left inside of me ❞

❝ Oh, that's a cold insight ❞

❝ Nothin' above us and nothin' below ❞

❝ Ahh, but you might be right ❞

❝ If there is no heaven and there is no soul ❞

❝ Always, always, always ❞

❝ Leaks and squeeks you black and blue ❞

But the Wages-

❝ You can find hope ascend to mark just how everything changes ❞

❝ Be it the temperature highs or the sea level rising ❞

❝ Sky-bound as a heavenly choir ❞

❝ The screams of the dying ❞

❝ It's all going up but the wages ❞

❝ And maybe it's time ❞

❝ Don't mention the rent or the money that's spent ❞

❝ Or the level of blame pointed to anything else ❞

❝ And preachy musicians ❞

❝ Or the pressure of blood ❞

❝ It's all going up with the bump in the heating bills ❞

❝ Even though the city's on fire ❞

❝ Higher and higher and higher ❞

The Love Of-

❝ If towers fall, if nothing stands ❞

❝ I’ll build again the world by my baby’s hands ❞

❝ At the end of all, there’s all they claim and then ❞

❝ I saw the news again ❞

❝ To hear that the world’s to end in flames ❞

❝ I’d not complain, I’ve seen the love of my baby ❞

❝ Be on the take, or talkin’ of slaughter over cake ❞

❝ Would kneel and break ❞

❝ Speak of the love of my baby ❞

❝ The angels can know their place ❞

❝ Let heaven hidе its face in sheer disgrace ❞

❝ Oh, look upon the lovе of my baby ❞

❝ Those who wield the chain are pushing the wheels of fear and shame ❞

❝ Forget their name ❞

❝ Hear of the love, the love, the love ❞

❝ The unamable, the unmade again ❞

❝ So hurry up and start ❞

❝ Can’t wait for the world to fall apart ❞

❝ ‘Cus here unmarked would still be the love ❞

Rob The Goddess-

❝ Made right by the hope that she affords me ❞

❝ As she’s lifting spring towards me ❞

❝ Like a baby in her hands ❞

❝ The thought arriving with her ❞

❝ No mere saint makes shit of winter ❞

❝ Here or any land ❞

❝ And of all times, I won’t lie ❞

❝ If she can pull it off just one more year ❞

❝ I swear, the old demotion be damned ❞

❝ I will not rob the goddess ❞

❝ I will not rob the goddess one more prayer ❞

I Could Be Yours-

❝ I could be soft and sweet ❞

❝ I could be hard and loud ❞

❝ I could be anything you'd ever need somehow ❞

❝ Why don't you hear me sing out from the lost and found ❞

❝ I could be yours ❞

❝ Why don't you try on me ❞

❝ Why don't you take me home ❞

❝ I'll match the color scheme of your bedroom walls ❞

❝ Oh, take a dose of me ❞

❝ It doesn't hurt at all ❞

❝ Oh God, I'd benefit from your sweet tenderness ❞

❝ Thank God, it could have been ❞

❝ 'cause nothing comes from it ❞

❝ That'd be a helpful thought if I could remember it ❞

[red-dye40]

Bee did you ever notice how Phlegm gets real wisecracky right before he dies. He goes "I can make it you pre..sum...choo...uh... Presumptuous asshole" with a stupid grin because he thinks its all fun and games. This is why I know they were jackasses to each other. And Johnny killed him because he didn't wanna see him fall into addiction and he knew he couldn't get him to stop, and that he'd eventually OD and that'd be too emotionally devastating so he just shot him. If you pay attention to how Johnny's saying "Again?" and "Nothing." you can tell he's upset about it, and that's why he just shoots him. Did you ever think of that

bud ………….. *takes long drag of cigarette* i think about that every damn day of my life

it actually has been ruining me thinking about nny making the decision to kill phlegm once he starts changing. i think he’s probably not concerned for phlegm’s health or safety as much as he’s annoyed that he’s different than the guy he once knew, and nny doesn’t want things to change because HE can’t change now. like it makes a Lot of sense that phlegm would fall deeper and deeper into his addiction after god knows how long they’d been killing, his interests change and his priorities lie in different places meanwhile johnny is virtually the Same Exact Person with the exact same priorities. INFURIATING!!! phlegm was no longer beneficial to nny and he needed him gone, otherwise he would just be a reminder of what once was and no longer is.

[bistaxx]

An annoyance I specifically have about qsmp tntduo fics is that they don’t even (usually) try to be like the qsmp versions of the characters. They have them act like dsmp, rivals that have a weird homoerotic tension. While in the qsmp, we’ve had Quackity being obsessed with Wilbur and Tallulah < and being convinced that Wilbur was the dad and tallulah was his kid. This is just the early stuff but it’s annoying how they pretend it’s qsmp when it’s clearly not.

(TNT MUTUALS SKIP THIS POST- SORRY ILY I PROMMY SRY! THIS ENDED UP TURNING INTO A RANT LMAO)

(Also none of this is my griping over what people are allowed to write or draw lol- i'm just bitching for my own sake LOL)

Yeah that's definitely a major part of my annoyance too, not helped by the fact that I also dislike /r c!tnt LOL- And I was actually interested in what q!Tnt as dynamic could've been but canon doesn't offer a whole lot to work with these days and fanon like you said either just makes them a poor man's rehash of c!tnt despite their q! counterparts being VERY different form those men or, like a mutual of mine brought up in their post, reduce q!Quack into this poor sad little wet cloth of a man that ONLY qWilbur could ever understand or fix because he's the ONLY man who actually cares about q!Quackity... just ignore Roier, and Etoiles, and Forever, and Baghera, and Cellbit, and Bagi, and- You get the point lol.

I think my last straw personally was seeing everything that Quack goes through be made to be about Wil- getting Tilin? Him and Wilbur can raise them together despite us knowing Luzu was the other parent! He loses his child? Dw he can raise Tallulah with Wilbur! Quackity's been kidnapped and replaced with Elq? Oh no! Onyl Wilbur will ever care or notice :( Just ignore that Jaiden witnessed this happen- Quackity is back, but his memories are gone and his mind severely messed with? Oh Wilbur will fix him- he'll teach him how to read and write and take care of him and they can be a family alongside Phil Tallulah and Chay! Quackity's been kidnapped again? Oh no only Wilbur will care Part 2 even though everyone quickly noticed Elq isn't Q! Quackity (and Phil) have weird tickets? This must be related to WILBUR somehow?! Quackity's DEAD?!? OH NO- WILBUR WILL BE SO SAD AND DEVASTATED! Quackity's back but extremely traumatized and broken after everything he's been though? He needs Wilbur to hug him and heal him :((((((((((((((-

And I wanna take a brief aside to complain about how people treat them and the eggs too- See I really like Quack and Pepito's dynamic, so I give into temptation and look on Twitter to find fanart of them... only to see them paired with Wilbur and Tallulah... with Quackity's OTHER CHILD Richas nowhere in sight! Because he just... doesn't matter I guess even though the two still care about each other a lot and still call each other father and son! Also the god damned disservice this stuff does for Talsy's character too- yeah she'd so be running over to hug Wil with her current growing resentment of him- but to know that'd require people to acknowledge her as more then just Wilbur's cute little daughter who exists only as an extension of him- SOMETHING SHE'S COMPLAINED ABOUT TO PHIL. But back to Quack...

Would you believe me if I told you people also did this shit during KARMALAND too- A SERIES THAT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE WILBUR PLAYING IN IT! That during the early days people were CONVINCED that k!Quackity was secretly an amnesiac c!Quackity and he was only drawn to k!Luzu because he reminds him c!Wilbur... yes people really fucking said that and god it made me so mad I won't lie 😭 People can headcanon whatever they want that's fine even if I don't gel with, the thing is it was just everywhere during the early Karmaland V days and people were doing to most to push it 'canon' cuz God forbid Q exist outside of Wil or c!tntduo in this Spanish server.

Listen- I never wanna be That Guy who DEMANDS people stop doing this or that- people can do whatever they want- I get missing a ship, I still miss Karmaland Luckity- I just wished people cared about q!Quack for q!Quack and not just tntduo. q!Quackity is a very flawed screw-up of a man with a big heart whose been through Hell and even though he wants to give up still chooses to keep on going for the sake of his new child- not to mention his mysterious connection to Elq and being forced to be a pawn to Oscurucho! He has a lot going for him outside of his celebrity crush! He has a lot of really good and complex bonds with other characters- he has a strong friendship with Etoiles, Forever tried to look out for him after Quackity lost his memories and Quackity in turn was visibly distressed when Forever went missing, HIS WHOLE THING WITH ROIER- LIKE- Quackity being a major part of the betrayal at the start of the server and Roier in turn ruining Quackity's reputation on the server in revenge but Quackity still tries to help Cellbit fix things with Roier during Festa Junina, Quackity admires the strength of Spiderbit's love to the point that it makes it reconsider his own view of what love is after his fake wedding with Wilbur's cardboard cutout, Roier still tried to help Quackity regain his memories when Quackity found Tilin's old diary, Roier is listed as one of the most important people to Quackity, during his hell coma in the maze portion there are photos of him and Roier everywhere, they even share custody of a child now- but no, Wilbur is the only one who gets or cares about Quackity, okay sure.

Anyway rant over- sorry anon I pretty much just used your ask as an excuse to vent about all my grievances I'm sorry 😭 People can send more anons about this if they want but I prolly won't answer- I don't like to bitch too much on this blog- this is the exception to that LOL I don't hate qWilbur either- I just don't care for q!tnt.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

We lowkey talked about this before but I feel this deserves its own moment. So, Prototype Freddy, the headless guy, right?

What if Cassie and the others get him all fixed into a whole Freddy again (I like the idea that his repaired self mirrors Glamrock Freddy's like earring on the other ear and chest bolt facing the other way,) so he becomes their friends too.

And most of them at least, especially Roxy I think, not only welcome him with open arms but straight up treat him as 'their' Freddy AKA totally replacing Glamrock Freddy-- which only further isolates and excludes him when "choosing Gregory over them" already did that too.

I feel like that'd sting for Glamrock Freddy especially with Chica if they being longtime friends or family for being older mascots is a thing.

Also sting in a different way if Roxy and Prototype Freddy actually end up with a far better affinity than she and Glamrock Freddy ever did.

And to rub more salt, eventually Cassie finds Bonnie as well and they try to fix him as much as possible until it's st least enough for him to come online. Then when it's time to catch up with old friends or meet new ones, they have Prototype Freddy there instead of Glamrock Freddy.

I don't think Cassie would do any of this to purposely target Glamrock Freddy but I kinda feel like Roxy would be bitter enough to. After all he "chose that brat he calls a son Gregory and CONTINUES choosing him over them all despite everything he's done to them, so if that's the bed he chose to make then he's going to have to lie in it."

Oooooo this is fun

Imma start by thinking that if Roxy never liked Freddy before, then she probably wouldn't welcome a repaired Freddy into the group very quickly. That whole dynamic would be pretty interesting though, like Roxy could be getting between him and the others every chance she gets to try and make sure he doesn't hurt them again... It might be appreciated at first, I mean this guy looks almost exactly like him and talks with the same mannerisms as him, it's gotta be a bit difficult seeing him around again. Presuming everyone's fixed up, then yeah I can see Roxy going the over protective route until she's outright told to stop. Roxy's a security node/guard dog with nothing to guard anymore, and several very hurt friends to watch out for, she just fell naturally into this without even noticing :(

But that just makes the turnaround more fun, right? Despite everything, Prototype Freddy is a good guy! He could listen to her, try helping her out with whatever it is she's up to, find it funny when she starts a golf club sword fight with Monty, be nothing but protective of all of them, be so damn respectful of her boundaries she starts to feel bad for yelling at him about it... and gradually, she stops watching him like a hawk, waiting for an excuse to kick his shit in. At some point, these two are hanging out and getting along perfectly well it's crazy to her how similar he is to the old Freddy but so different in every way that matters. They're friends now! She wishes this Freddy was the Freddy they'd had from the very beginning! Things would have been so different with this guy and it pisses her off sometimes!

And oh god yeah it'd sting so fucking bad for the others, especially Chica and Monty that the old Freddy chose Gregory over them. He basically sacrificed them and for what? It's such a betrayal, and since they and Sunny and Moon were all friends with him, I can see at least a few of them forgetting this isn't the same Freddy every now and then. He says something they don't expect and they flinch as the truth hits them all over again... that's gotta hurt. Were they not worth anything to him? How could they do this to them?

That's fun...

But yeeessss bringing Bonnie back in a situation like this (though without the prototype Freddy) is something that I have happen in my Meteors AU and it's gold. How do you handle waking up after maybe a year has passed to discover your almost boyfriend set a rabid child on all your friends and family, then ditched them when they needed him the most? How is he supposed to take that? Denial? A desperate spiral into camera footage and questioning, searching for answers? For any kind of evidence that they all might be mistaken? That this was all just one big misunderstanding? His Freddy wouldn't do that... He wouldn't! He's sure of it!

And this Prototype isn't Freddy! Why is he here?! Did everyone just replace him?! This is some Fazbear Entertainment levels of bullshit!! His Freddy was worth more than that!! How could they do exactly what Fazbear would have done and just swap him out for a new one?! What's wrong with them?!

The pain is so good for this oh my god I love it

I like to think that once the reality of what Freddy did sinks in, Bonnie grows to hate him. It hurts to hate him, but he's so fucking betrayed by what he's done, how can he not hate him? He can't still love him! He can't! (He does) It's not fair!

And Freddy would be devastated by all of this holy shit. Seeing everyone with the Prototype, happier with the Prototype, and feeling like everyone moved on and replaced him. Even Bonnie. Heartbreaking.

And yeah you're so right. Cassie wouldn't have done any of this to target Freddy, but Roxy would have for sure. Maybe the idea that this would upset Freddy if he ever sees it is what convinces her to give Prototype Freddy a chance? A kind of "I'm going to pretend to be your friend on the off chance Freddy sees and feels like shit for it" turning into her genuinely valuing his company kind of thing. Maybe he kinda figured that's what her plan was originally and decided to just go along with it and let her do her thing, being genuinely surprised himself to end up friends with her? Lotta ways you can play that!

I love this Prototype Freddy is neat!!

[sugar-omi]

(swiftie asker) OH MY GOD YOU GET IT. YOU UNDERSTAND. THIS IS ... EVERYTHING??? THIS IS THE MOMENT????? THIS IS ALL THAT EVER WAS AND ALL THAT EVER WILL BE???????? HELLO???????????? your english teacher is so based for that btw i know damn well i'd be digging claw marks into that desk DKJNCFJ

IF THERE WAS EVER ANYBODY WHO UNDERSTOOD BAXTER WARD IT WOULD BE YOU. BECAUSE YOU FUCKING GET IT, YOU UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT AND YOU RAN WITH IT LIKE THE GODDAMN WIND. "promises oceans deep, but never to keep" OUGHNGGFJGH IT'S SO BAXTER . ESPECIALLY SINCE ANY OCEAN MOTIF OF ANY KIND IMMEDIATELY ROLLS IN THOUGHTS OF COVE....... FUCKKK DUDE

dude. LOML /IS/ BAXTER CODED HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU SERIOUS??? "you cinephile in black and white", "in your suit and tie, in the nick of time", "MR. STEAL YOUR GIRL, THEN MAKE HER CRY"... how did i not see this before what the fuck . ???!?! i'm a fake fan fr /j ...

no but seriously. THE WAY THE SONG HAS REFERENCES TO ILLICIT AFFAIRS, YET ANOTHER BAXTER/MC CODED SONG??? the connection between illicit affairs's "they lie and they lie and they lie a million little times" and loml's "you told me i'm the love of your life about a million times" FUCK DUDE I'M CONVINCED TAYLOR KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING WHEN SHE RELEASED THESE TRACKS BECAUSE IT'S JUST TOO PERFECT.

"i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all" and "you're the love/loss of my life" as both baxter AND mc mourning what could have been if they were two different people...if they'd met under different circumstances, in different periods of their lives. if they had one, two, a thousand more chances to get it right. if they weren't built to fall apart - destined to find and then lose each other as if it was nothing. if mc is the moon and cove is the sun, then baxter is the ever-buoying ocean - destined to forever reflect their light and be swayed from shore to shore by mc's magnetic pull - but the way they dip below his horizons by dawn as if melting into him, it's nothing more than the illusion of touch; the ghost of something he might have had once but can't hope to yearn for again.

OKAY I THINK I'VE BEEN RAMBLING WAY TOO MUCH FOR A COMFORTABLE-TO-READ TUMBLR ASK SKJDFKDFJD... truly i will never get over how you just took my silly little thoughts and absolutely TOOK OFF with them, i'll literally never be the same after "that'd be too selfish. he couldn't be that selfish." DUDE LIVES WERE CHANGED. PEOPLE DIED. (it's me, i'm people) so all of this is just to say YOU HAVE DONE IT ONCE AGAIN . ABSOLUTE ICON . 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

"if mc is the moon and cove is the sun, then baxter is the ever-buoying ocean - destined to forever reflect their light" + ".. the way they dip below his horizons by dawn as if melting into him, it's nothing more than the illusion of touch; the ghost of something he might have had once but can't hope to yearn for again."

IS FUCKING CRAZY. OH MY GOD. IM GOING TO SOB??? IM.. IM ON THE FLOOR?? THE WALL???? SHIT, MY LIFE WAS CHANGED JUST NOW AFTER THAT PARAGRAPH. WHAT THE FUCK. like excuse me while i go tattoo such a GUT WRENCHING BUT SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN, SUCH A POETIC PARAGRAPH ON MY EYELIDS !!!!!

AND YES YES YES "you're the loss of my life" IS FUCKING CRAZY. I WAS GRIPPING MY STUFFED ANIMAL WITH BOTH HANDS. THAT WAS SO CRAZY N SO FUCKING TRUE

IN FACT. THATS LITERALLY BAXTER'S LINE???? baxter meeting you again, be it when you help plan scott and jude's wedding or when you marry cove, THAT IS HIS FUCKING LINE, ESPECIALLY IF YOU DON'T GET BACK TOGETHER WITH HIM..

literally screaming rn, i will not be able to sleep at all omg... i'm gonna be thinking about that reflecting their light line all fucking night... LIKE I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE IM EXAGGERATING BUT I AM GENUINELY SHAKEN /POS. YOU HAVE ME IN A DEATH GRIP RN ISTG

i love your mind. my writing freak as been matched. you are brilliant 😭👏👏👏👏

also im trying to listen to more of the songs on ttpd but istg i cannot hear if i cant see words so im checking the lyrics and. THE SMALLEST MAN TO EVER LIVED? BAXTER CODED ANDI NEED YOU TO HEAR ME OUT

"was any of it true? / gazing at me starry-eyed in your jehovah witness suit / who the fuck was that guy?" + "and i dont even want you back, i just want to know / if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal"

THAT LINE. "i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal" THIS IS SO PERFECT FOR IF YOURE STILL MAD AT BAXTER EVEN 5 YEARS LATER.

and listen, i have somewhere to be in the morning so i can't wax poetry abt this line right now, imma type some shit up later bc i am going CRAZY but literally even though baxter gave you such a lovely time, and even though you knew it was going to end. even though you hoped he'd stay for awhile..

the way he wraps you up in his arms so sweetly, smiles at you so handsomely... he has you hooked on him like a drug only to turn you away, blame you for your addiction to him. blamed you for still yearning for the temporary but euphoric effects of his love...

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO YES

OP’s tags @sketchtablet  #they shouted luau and not hula....i didnt know that intill now#mei living her best life#lion king#mini comic

@summer-time333  Y'all, I'm DYING-

@maki--na I don't know what's funnier... the mayor turning his head 180 degrees or Mk and Mei dancing samba 🤣🤣🤣🤣

@monkie-zone  #HE WOULD. ION GONNA LIE @sisyphus-prime:  #HELP

@witch-among-stars  IT'S JUST THE BEST.

@thechildbythesea  i dunno if this is a blessing or a curse

@mssunflower7  I love this so much

@professionalwritingnerd  nah if it was accurate that'd be setting pigsy down on a plate in the background /j

@fluffyk97 #Why am I just imagining Mei just spitting that apple in her mouth out like a bullet directly in that man's face#Cause that'd be hilarious -

@spectralscathath #the fucking mayor head snap holy shit

@leptosia-nina #i am in TEARS#the mayor just snapping and popping with that face killed me#this is beautiful#monkie kid#lmk sun wukong#lmk mk#lmk mei#lmk mayor#at least mei looks like she's having fun lol

@chimemori #he looks so damn terrifying holy shit#POP OFF MEI AND MK😭#IM GOING TO CRH HAHDHHSHD

@tailgxted #i saw this o ntwt iirc idk#still fave post ngl ​​

@ranchana I´m crying XD!!!!

@number-1-harumi-hater oh god his NECK

I’ve made this so now everyone has to see it >:)

[elfnerdherder]

Ill Intentions: Chapter 12

[Support my Writing] [Read on Ao3]

So...it’s been awhile. :) If you need to recap before this, you can access it through my tags on my Tumblr, or you can find it in its entirety on Ao3 [Here]

A special thanks to my Patrons: @frostyleegraham @jenacar @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @frostylicker @sylarana, Laura G., Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Cecily!

Chapter 12: Cameos

           “…Why don’t you sit down, Abigail,” Will began, and he gestured lamely towards the table. There wasn’t a clock in the room, the only relief to the stiff, awkward silence the rumbling sound of the heater kicking on. It was broken, but Charlie said they’d fix it when he had a damn good reason to fix it. As long as US Weekly kept hitting the top spot, they’d not earn a repairman.

           Most people just wore layers to work.

           Abigail surveyed him critically as she circled the table and sat down. Despite the slight appearance, wavery and almost water-like in its rippling, it was her eyes that grabbed him. They were cold, ice cubes that’d been long forgotten and left to stick to the sides of the freezer. Will wondered if she was much like him, rumpled and slumped but ultimately rotten from the inside out.

           “I got your reply,” she said as Will slumped into the seat across from her. “It was…different.”

           “Different?”

           “You didn’t sound apologetic.”

           He rolled her words around in his head and weighed them, considering her. She looked to be about eighteen or so, just barely out of high school. How honest could he be? How honest should he be? There were laws about what someone could or couldn’t say in front of minors, right?

           God, why the fuck had Charlie left him alone with a kid? Why had this sounded like a good idea on his part?

           Given the flavor of his thoughts, Will figured he should tread very, very carefully. He was already in the shit hole with Charlie for being late. He didn’t want to risk Freddie and Charlie venturing into the basement level to promote the other Will to ‘Will Intentions’ instead.

           “I do regret that it led to the death of your mother,” he said at last, and his voice softened. “I know what it’s like to grow up without parents.”

           “I grew up with parents.”

           “Then to lose them, I’m sure, is not easy.”

           “Are you serious right now?” she asked. Her voice darkened, hit hard and fell onto the table between them, accusing.

           “…What?”

           At his stupefied expression, she reached into her messenger bag and withdrew a much abused, much reread paper. It’d been folded into a small square that she opened with the familiarity of a person that knew which way to turn it. She cleared her voice, stiffened her spine, and curled her lip. He wondered if she’d taken a plane or a car, whether they let kids her age travel alone on trains. He wondered if she’d read it by lamplight, passing over alcohol-abused words that he’d foolishly woven together late at night alone in his apartment. God, he should have at least proofread it.

           “You said, ‘I wonder what it is that you feel, Abigail, since you shared that you don’t feel much at all. In my own darkest moments, I find myself consumed with either entirely too many emotions to process or not enough to address my problems.

           ‘In regards to your father, I can honestly say that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. To say that that simple article has set my own life into a tailspin would be an understatement, but I can only fathom when I’m eating dinner alone in my apartment what it must be like for you to also have to eat alone now. I know institutions such as the one you’re likely contained within, and I know the thoughts likely pervading your mind. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ you’re probably wondering. ‘Was this somehow my fault?’

           ‘When you feel nothing, is there a hollowness inside of you that continues reaching ever-onward, grasping, or is it that there is so much in so little a time that you feel as though you’ve simply shut down, your mind refusing to acknowledge its trauma in order to protect you? I wonder about things like that, especially since first receiving your e-mail. I wonder about your future, your hopes, your dreams. I wonder about your father and how even in his most horrific moments, he must have loved you very much to kill every girl he could find that looked like you, simply to cherish you just awhile more.

           ‘Mostly, though, Abigail, I wonder if you were aware that you were a lure, or if you’re actually the picture of utmost innocence that most of the news and society has decided you to be.’”

           When she finished reading, she laid the paper onto the table and stared at him, hard.

           Will wasn’t sure how to feel, hearing his words read aloud and in the quiet of a room whose clock was broken –had been for months. Charlie hadn’t replaced it, and he wouldn’t anytime soon. He glanced to his wrist. No watch. No time.

           His writing was harsh, though, accusing. His words weren’t apologetic in the least –accusatory, more like. Striking out because he’d been struck, in truth, by words that smarted. Did he care about people? Not for awhile. Did he even stop to consider her when he published that answer in Beverly’s column? No. Hell, he hadn’t even realized it would have taken off the way that it did –if anything, he thought Charlie would have fired him for stepping out of the ‘Wedding Announcements’ cubicle.

           “You want to talk about condolences for dead parents, but before you were forced to look me in the eye, that is what you sent me,” she said coldly.

           “If it’s any consolation,” he said coarsely, “I was drunk when I wrote that. Even sober, I’m not much of a people person, but drunk…”

           “Drunk,” she repeated flatly.

           “Yeah, drunk. I was working out of my apartment when I came across your letter.”

           “You work a lot?” she asked.

           “Forty to fifty hours. More now, since that ‘Chats with Bev’ article came out.”

           She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down agitatedly. “You make associations that you can’t explain. I looked up your school records –you’re smart. Top of most of your classes, and a teacher once wrote about you in a psychiatric journal. She said that you could so acutely read a person that it was as though you were speaking about yourself.”

           “Thank you, Abigail.”

           She blinked rapidly, glancing down to her hands. “You got into my dad’s head better than anyone else did, and all you did was write a small article. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that you’re something like him. Smart, a hard worker, and a bit of a drinker.”

           The force of his ire didn’t let him consider his words. It unfurled, hot and furious, striking out like a whip. “I’m nothing like your father. He was a cannibalistic serial killer that targeted young, teenage girls and strangled them to death in order to eat them.”

           “Oh, and who would you target that would justify it?” she wondered without missing a beat. She looked up from hands clenched to fists in her lap.

           Cannibalistic serial killers, in fact, he thought savagely. And apparently drug addicts that make the mistake of cornering me in allies on dark, drunken nights.

           “I’ve never killed someone.”

           “You’ve thought about it.”

           “Everyone’s thought about killing someone in one way or another,” he replied curtly. His tongue was hot and blistered. “Be it your own hand or the hand of God, everyone’s thought about murder. Even you.”

           The heater let out a wild, unattractive scream, and a thin trail of smoke seeped from underneath it. Abigail gave an alarmed jump, and Will glanced to it, then back to her.

           “It does that,” he said –not entirely reassuring, but more to avoid her running from the room and causing alarm. He wanted to prolong his termination as long as he could, thanks.

           “…You know, this is more of what I had in mind when I first wondered who you were as a person,” Abigail said once the whining cry of the heater died back down to something bearable. “You made me feel like I’d made a mistake coming here with that first introduction, but this seems more like you.”

           Fuck, she was right, wasn’t she? Charlie was going to have his ass over this if she made a complaint. After work –if he made it that far, in truth –he was going to get a stiff, strong drink. His thoughts tumbled, trembled like the beating of hummingbird’s wings, too fast for him to catch. The Game, The Body, The Watch, The Girl, The Killer –

           The Game.

           “Ask anyone and you’ll find I’m not that popular,” he said uncomfortably. Her stare was stinging nettle underneath his skin.

           “They tell you that?”

           “No, but I know.”

           “In High School, they tell us that that’s just insecurities,” she replied, and maybe it was the way in which she tilted her head, but it made Will stop and look at her, really look as though it was the first time he’d ever seen her. His throat tightened, and he had to force down a lump at the look in her eye, the way she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms.

           Will didn’t often like to think of his childhood. His past was something he liked to keep crushed down, down, down where not even whiskey could reel it back up to inspect. There was something in the expression on her face, though, that reminded him of one of the most popular girls in high school, Nicole.

           Will didn’t much like Nicole for the same reasons that the look on Abigail’s face made him instantly want to put as much distance between her and his person as was humanly possible. It was both dark and innocent, conniving yet kind. It was people like that that led to that one kid in high school killing himself. Nicole had even shown up to the funeral even though she was the one two weeks before that’d told him he should kill himself if living was truly so burdensome. She’d even shed some tears for him, telling those around her that ‘he could have just asked for help’.

           “…I know they don’t like me much the same way I know that you were a lure for your father, much the same way I now know that you were completely and unequivocally aware that you were a lure, Abigail,” he said slowly.

She didn’t blink, her stare drilling holes into his skin. Was that where the rot would come out, oozing from him? Could she see all of the ugly, sickening bits of him that most people couldn’t see but surely felt, couldn’t place but somehow knew? The Chesapeake Ripper saw it.

The Chesapeake Ripper liked it.

           “I’ll deny it,” she said, and her lip twitched –the remnants of a smirk she knew she shouldn’t show.

           “I never said that I was going to accuse you. I’m just saying that I know.”

           “Yeah? What else do you think you know about me?”

           “I know that despite your claims at secrecy, there’s no way you managed to get here without some form of approval unless you’re an adult. So, either a psychiatrist from the facility gave you permission and is waiting in good graces down the hall from us, or you’re at least eighteen. I know that you were well-aware that you were a lure the same way that I know you have taken on your father’s skills of manipulation with ease. He taught you everything that you know. You can hunt, and you know how to do it without looking like the hunter.

           “You’re uncomfortable in your clothes, though, Abigail, and sometimes your hands shake. You know what to do, but the application of it is scary, isn’t it? You’re being called out on all of the things your father taught you to hide. How does that feel?”

           “And what makes you think that you’re right?” she shot back. Defensive.

           He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes roughly, knocking his glasses askew. He wondered what time it was, if their silences and long stares and scowls had drained the hours away or if it’d only been five minutes.

           If he’d had his fucking watch…

           “You were taught to hunt, and I was taught to fish,” he said into his hands before blinking blearily at her. “You went out with your father to catch your quarry, and I was taught to let the quarry come to me. It makes a person observant.”

           “That’s not just being observant.”

           “You’re right,” he agreed. “But seeing as how this is a first meeting, that’s about as much as you’ll be able to get out of me.”

           “First meeting?” she asked. “Do you think I’d want to contact you again after this?”

           Someone shouted down the hall, and a door slammed. Will glanced to the windows whose blinds had been drawn, then back to her. “You didn’t look to the door expectantly when I mentioned a guardian, meaning you’re not waiting on anyone. You’re eighteen, and the psychiatric ward can’t keep you. What’d you use, your personal savings or your inheritance to get a ticket out here?”

           Silence. She shifted, uncomfortable, and Will dove for it.

           “Tell me.”

           Her jaw lifted stubbornly, but as the silence droned on and the heater let out another plaintive squeal, she let out a curt sigh. “I lifted someone’s ticket at the train station.”

           He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction of him showing just how impressed he was at her resourcefulness. Things like that were the reason, he supposed, why kids were a terrible idea for him.

           “What’s your next step?” Will wondered. “Homeless shelter? Stealing a credit card for a hotel room? This isn’t ‘Home Alone: Lost in New York.’”

           “Women’s battered shelters always look out for young women like me,” she replied.

           “Risky. They ask a lot of questions these days since people like you keep taking up bed space from those in need.”

           “I’m in need.”

           Will snorted. “I doubt that.”

He patted his pockets down, then let out an irritable sigh when he realized that he’d forgotten his cloves, too. Fucking Ripper. Fucking watch. “Any chance you picked up smoking in your post-grievance rebellion?”

           And surprisingly, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a small box of Marlboro’s. “They’re menthol.”

           “Everything’s fucking menthol,” he muttered, and he grabbed the box from her. “Smoking’s back for you,” he added, lighting one.

           He pointedly tucked the box into his pocket, and Abigail leaned back into her chair to sulk.

           “What do you recommend, then, since you think that plan won’t work?” she asked as he lipped at the minty flavor.

           “I’d say that you could stay with me, but my apartment isn’t entirely safe.”

           This time, she didn’t fight the sneer making her lip curl. “Are you a mean drunk?”

           “No, but the Chesapeake Ripper is sending me letters, and the last thing that I need is a serial killer’s daughter being killed by another serial killer,” he returned in far more even tones than he’d expected. “Least of all in my apartment.”

           That, and it’s torn to shit, isn’t it?

           “I appreciate your concern over me.”

           “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “I’m getting enough publicity. Word gets out that you’re here, and I won’t have a moment’s peace.”

           “Then what’s the plan?” she asked impatiently.

           This isn’t my problem, he wanted to scream. You’re a biproduct of a psychopath’s rampage, but just because I reported it doesn’t make it my problem. Why is this my problem?

           Be it the look on her face, though, or maybe it was the look on Jack Crawford’s face should he find out who’d come to visit Will, but he couldn’t very well leave her, could he? Although she wasn’t his problem, hadn’t he first been the one to bring her world crashing down? Hadn’t he been the very reason that she was sitting right in front of him?

           I think that it takes only the barest of nudges to make you fall into the sordid crevices of your mind that you like to pretend don’t exist, The Chesapeake Ripper had said. Abigail may not be his problem, but Will could see how her problems only began because of him. Because of his mind. Because of the way he thought.

           He sighed and stubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray that Charlie liked to hide underneath the table –as though no one in the building knew that he smoked.

           “Wait here,” he said curtly, and he got up and walked out of the conference room.

-

           “No.”

           “Beverly –”

           “Are you joking?” she hissed, and the glare she cut his way was ruthless. “Please tell me that you’re joking.”

           “She’s got nowhere to go.”

           “How’s that my problem?”

           It wasn’t. It wasn’t Will’s problem, either. He sat just on the edge of her desk –at least her desk didn’t wobble like his did. Maybe he’d exacerbate the faulty leg on his desk just enough to break it so that Charlie had to buy a new one. Maybe, just maybe, with the extra money that he was reeling in with ‘Will Intentions’, Charlie would be able to afford a new desk for him.

           The watch, in all of its glory, would have surely been able to remind him to feel excited about such things like new desks and a popular column. He refused to look to his wrist where its absence needled.

           “It’s not our problem, but…” But? Will looked down the hall where the conference room was. His spit was rust, and he swallowed raggedly. “I feel…responsible for her. It’s not our problem, but I can’t just…”

           Just? He swallowed again, harder, then looked at her plaintively. He thought of clocks and time and how it was both his master and his mercy, and he wondered just how much of Abigail’s time had been consumed with Will Graham and all of his behaviors as of late. She’d even looked into his college years, for fuck’s sake. Surely, in her thoroughness, he could give her something?

           “Good hell, Graham, if I didn’t know better I’d say that you care about her,” Beverly said, and her merciful smile encouraged him to smile, too.

           “I don’t care about much, but she’s just a kid. If you don’t let her stay with you, then I’m going to have to ask Freddie.”

           That did the trick. At the mention of Freddie, Beverly’s smile turned sour, and she looked back to Freddie’s office with an expression verging on hostile.

           “She won’t let go of the fact that you let her help you with the last riddle,” she complained. As an afterthought, “If I have to hear about that room for the deaf one more time…”

           “She forced herself into the situation, and I was pressed for time,” Will replied quickly. “I asked for your help all of the other times, and it was you that I wanted for the gala.”

           The Gala. The Ripper. He thought of how it’d felt, the Ripper’s hand over his eyes, blinding him because he was allowing himself to be blind.

           This is the most fun you’ve had in years.

           “So now it’s me that you want to babysit an eighteen-year-old whose father ate innocent women?” Beverly clarified.

           “Yeah, I thought about my apartment, but…”

           He didn’t have to finish that thought. They shared grimaces with one another, and Beverly leaned back in her chair, flipping and turning a pen about. It was a nice make, something with an angled and sharp nib. Likely it’d give a good flourish to notation, the curve of a ‘g’ or ‘y’ looping and graceful. It was probably sharp enough to stab, given the need, too. He wondered if she wrote in passing after work, or if journalism was the only writing that she needed. He wondered if she struggled the same way as he did with adjectives, with the right sort of pace to keep readers just interested enough to want more. He wondered if her purple prose fell flat –surely not, with a pen like that.

           “I’ll take her, Graham, but I’m not babysitting her. She’s going to get a job, she’s going to start working towards something, and then we’ll come up with a new plan,” Beverly said at last. “I have a heart, but I’m not a charity case. I don’t want kids yet.”

           “I promise that she’s not much of a kid.”

           “Charlie’s at a lunch meeting that ran late,” she said, and her smile curled devilishly at the edges. “I told him that you have a heart condition that you don’t like to talk about; that’s why you were late. If you stay out of his way when he gets back, he won’t have your head.”

           “Thank you,” he replied sincerely.

           “You owe me,” she said, pointedly.

           Will figured that he owed her for more than that, though. He owed Beverly for a lot of things, from lying to accidentally giving a good lead to someone like Freddie. He owed her for the late hours, the danger, and the fact that as she’d strolled about the steps of the gala, The Chesapeake Ripper had dared to ask Will how he’d kill her.

           I’d much prefer for you to use your bare hands.

           He left her with her fountain pen and a desk whose left leg didn’t wobble, and he sat at his desk for some time, thinking. The time on the computer said 2:56, but it didn’t feel like the early afternoon. He’d missed breakfast. He’d missed lunch. He’d missed water. He’d missed another cup of coffee. Will fished out a packet of stale peanuts and choked them down, staring at the time. His wrist was bare, his thoughts were scattered, and as he chewed morosely he wondered if the Chesapeake Ripper only wanted to ruin his day, or if he had anything else in store since taking his watch.

           The thought that followed after, was: and just what the hell are you going to do about it?

           It wasn’t until 3:29 that he collected himself to begin checking e-mails. Serial killer, serial killer, serial killer. Questions, questions, questions. Accusations, accusations, accusations. Time was bleeding from him, and a headache was setting in. He’d forgotten to get water. That thought, much like others, struck him, then fell away after little force. He still didn’t get up to get water.

           Then:

To: Will Graham & Co.,

           I hope that you enjoyed the overture. I imagined something along the F-Harmonic scale, although music in all of its intricacies gives room for creative differences.

                                                                                                                       -Another Avid Fan

           He stared at the e-mail for far longer than he should have. In the chaotic jumble of his thoughts, Will felt the strains of a fading song, something beautiful and haunting. Hadn’t he also thought of the music along the F-Harmonic range as he’d stared at the body? Had Jack Crawford witnessed him seeing so deeply? So intimately?

           Are serial killers your muse?

           He thought about forwarding it to Beverly, another olive branch since the writer had even bothered to include Co. Will Graham and Company. It could have been a sitcom, if there was anything remotely funny about people whose throats now occupied the neck of a cello.

           There was something personal in the way the person had included another to their signature, though, that stayed his fingers from clicking the ‘Fwd.’ icon. Another Avid Fan. Not a fan of Tattler News. Not a fan of Will Graham and Company. The first avid fan was a fan of Will. Another avid fan surely felt the same, too. Did they see him swaying to the song? Did they linger in the crowd, watching him try to break free of the line to go inside? Did they mark him with Jack as he was given entry past the partitions?

           He printed a copy for himself, then deleted the original. Will told himself that it was because of Jack that he didn’t tell anyone –he’d promised not to entertain another psychopath in the papers, after all. In truth, as he headed back to the conference room in order to tell Abigail that she didn’t have to sleep at a homeless camp, he figured that out of anyone else in the world, the last person that he should have to lie to was himself.

[skeleboiii84]

Can u please do mafiaswap Paps , angst and smut.(Ima BIG fan)

Ooooooo boy! Yes you most certainly can darling 😉🧡 this one has also been a long wait for you👀👀

I apologize for the wait my dear🙇‍♀️ and thank you so much I'm glad you're a fan of my writing!! 😊😊

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Think ya can handle all this darlin'~? 🧡

(A mafiaswap papyrus X reader) angst and smut

Papyrus walked into the living room as you lay on the sofa he was not in a good mood because when he walked in all he had to say was "goin out for a smoke". Oh nah hell nah where was your kiss? Your big hug? Your cuddles to make up for him being away for so long?

All you knew is you weren't having it so you walked outside your back door holding a pout on your face. He didn't even turn to face you, "babyyy" you whined which seemed to have caught his attention.

"Hm? What's wrong sweetheart" he looked at you for about a second before avoiding your gaze once more.

"I could ask you the same thing" you teased him by letting your lips graze his neck. He let out a deep sigh before telling you what was up, "just a shitty day at work honey" he pulled you close to his chest to give you a hug and a kiss.

You jumped into his arms making him catch you and lift you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist, you weren't just kissing passionately oh no now you were sloppily making out. His free hand wandering up your body.

You both paused for a moment of breath so he could teleport you to his room.

Once you got there he pinned you down " I'm not gonna say I wasn't waitin all damn day for this 'cuz that'd be a lie" he then lowered down to bite your neck. You moaned softly grabbing at the back of his waistcoat. You started to pull off his waistcoat and undo his shirt buttons. As he moved you to sit on top of his lap.

He pulled off your jumper and your shorts down enough for him to gently move his fingers in and out of you. He was looking at your face then down at his fingers then back at you again. He loved the way you squirmed on him he loved the fact that he was the only one that could make you feel so good.

The feeling of his fingers curl up into you seemed to be too much as you soon meet your climax. But he wasn't near to finished with you~😉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS THAT JUST ME-

God I love him so hopelessly it's crazy🧡

[ckret2]

@whyangle said: What are your thoughts about Bill Cipher's broader effects on human history? I know you think he lied to Ford about constructing the pyramids, but did he have any relationship at all with the Egyptians? (Or The Greeks/the Aztecs/The Founding Fathers etc?) Or were all those connections made up to impress Ford and seduce him into a feeling of grandeur?

I haven't decided in all circumstances yet, but I have two loose overarching guidelines I'm trying to follow:

I don't want to replicate any "Ancient Aliens" style bullshit—that is, I don't want to make any jokes that re-attribute massive, important human accomplishments to an alien.

I don't want to make jokes that "verify" conspiracy beliefs that are actually being spread in real-world conspiracy theories to the detriment of real-world peoples.

At the same time, "Bill has been trying to break into our dimension for longer than human civilization has existed, and he's repeatedly desperately (and unsuccessfully) tried to sucker powerful and important humans into making a door for him" is a major part of his character, as is his whole general conspiracy theory schtick.

And whenever possible, I want the headcanons I use to interact recognizably with the canon info we currently have on hand. As a fanfic writer my overarching philosophy is "malicious compliance canon compatibility." Deciding to completely chuck something canon said out the window as a baseless lie feels like cheating and lazy. I'd rather say any info we get in canon distorts/stretches the truth.

(I don't know if I'll be able to re-spin his claims as half-truths in every case. For instance, Bill claiming in Guide to Mystery & Nonstop Fun that western democracy is a sham etc etc, I don't think there's any salvaging that. I don't care that he claims the elite cabal that rules the world has a ping pong table in their break room, I still don't wanna touch any "elite cabal" BS with a ten foot pole. I may just have to write that one off as Bill going "this Pine Tree kid is a conspiracy theory nutjob in the making, what's the most fucked up thing I can claim that'd send him spiraling down a rabbit hole of increasingly divorced-from-reality paranoia?")

So far, one of the ways I've been trying to strike a balance is by saying "he got involved in these big historic things, but he wasn't behind them."

For instance: I don't terribly mind the idea "Bill tried to get the ancient Egyptians to build a portal for him, and it broke down after a few minutes," because it doesn't re-attribute their successes to an alien. The Egyptians were brilliant architects and engineers on their own merits, and all the things we know ancient Egypt for building were 100% human achievements. And because of their own existing human merits Bill could go to them and say "if I teach you a little bit of alien technology you don't already know, you can build me a portal."

I'm iffier on "a jackal-headed man came out of the portal before it broke down" because it implies "Egyptian religious beliefs were inspired by meeting an alien." But like I can spin it in a way that works for me. Maybe Egyptians already had their beliefs and Bill happened to have a Henchmaniac at the time who coincidentally looked like Anubis and he went "hey buddy do you wanna pose as a god and help me sucker these humans into helping us out?" I dunno, I'm spitballing.

I'm REALLY iffy on "the Egyptians built the pyramids to appease Bill's wrath and make him go away," because, even though it does allow that the Egyptians built the pyramids themselves, it still turns them into something they made to honor an alien, when we know damn well what the pyramids' purpose was. Again this isn't something I've decided how I wanna address in my headcanons. Maybe the pyramids already existed, they added Bill's hat and eye to appease him, and those additions were shitty and crumbled off later and nobody really cared because they didn't like those additions in the first place and only made them to make this one asshole go away. (Kind of split the difference in the "the pyramids were originally Bill but the hats fell off" claim in canon.) Or maybe the pyramids already existed, the folks Bill was torturing went "well we know he likes our pyramids, why don't we make him a quick crummy one that looks like him?" and then that one fell apart over time while the "true" pyramids survived. idk. I haven't decided. The pyramids are SUCH a hotbed for Ancient Aliens bullshit that I'd sooner not address them directly unless I have to.

(And for the record, in the above art, my intent for Ford speculating "is Bill trying to copy Egyptian art?" is that he's WRONG, but with a grain of truth: I wanted to slide in the idea that interacting with ancient Egyptian culture influence Bill, and NOT that Bill influenced ancient Egyptian culture. Someone a while ago suggested that the "brick" lines on Bill's triangular form are like "tattoos," because he thinks looking like a pyramid would be cool. I also think, due to lucky coincidence, Bill likes the common ancient Egyptian bas relief art style because it helps his two dimensional brain make sense of human bodies as pseudo two-dimensional figures.)

That's a lot of focus on Egypt, but same goes for any other historical culture he was purportedly involved with: yeah, I think he was involved in a bunch of important historical events, but I don't think he was behind them. (I'm only really willing to say he was "behind" events that are completely made up. For instance: the landslide that killed the other presidential candidates and got Quentin Trembley III elected as the 8 1/2 president. That was Bill. 100% Bill. He wanted Quentin in office.)

Obsessively studying your recently-resurrected arch-nemesis isn't, like, any kind of mental health red flag, is it? Like that's probably fine right?

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Can we get that story how Pepa snuck into the boy locker room 😊

Oh right right, from THIS ask, you mean!

Sure, why not? We love a little crazy teenage Pepa here and there.

"Oh you BITCH!"

Pepa muttered. The SECOND she snuck in here, the second they saw so much as an ankle, Rosario just up and ditched her. Fucking prude. Whatever, she didn’t need her, she could appreciate the boys all by herself. It was easy, honestly, all she had to do was wait till no one was looking, and sneak right in. It was easy, as long as you were careful. Oh and if you weren't a bitch like her. Pepa was for once, lucky she was so thin, so there wasn't much to hide. She peered past the lockers, and holy shit.

She hit the motherload. Every single guy in school was there. From the nerds, to the total cuties, and-

"Woah. Carlos is a four on the face but an eight below the waist~..."

She had been with a few of them, same as any other girl, but there were SO many new sights to see. Thin boys, fat boys, hairy boys, bare boys. Boys with cute scars or moles or even freckles. Big butts, tight butts, flat butts- she was at a whole boy buffet. And it was sorta...hot, seeing them in their natural state.

"Carlos!"

"What? It was funny!"

Boys apparently REALLY liked to smack each other's butts. She'd be doing the same though, honestly. She bit her bottom lip as she watched them, hoping maybe to see them do something just a BIT more physical with each other-

"And just what are you doing here, Pepita?"

"Oh! Félix! Hi! I was just. Just...uh..."

Of course he found her. She was about to speak up for herself, when she got a look at him. A real good look. He was wrapped in only a white towel, leaving so little to the imagination. He was a big, big boy. Wide as he was handsome. Hair on his chest that drifted down his gut, poking out of the towel to what she could only imagine was a forest of pubic hair. And to top it all off, he was laced in water, most likely having just gotten out of the shower. Little drops cascaded down his body, she wanted to dry him off with her damn tongue and-

"Oye-mis ojos están aquí arriba."

He gestured to his eyes, and god damn did they look pretty when she did something wrong. She was glad she was in here instead of just the bathroom, her steaming up the room just made it less noticeable.

"Right! Right they are uh. Up there. Sorry I uh. Got lost?"

He gave her a look that made it clear her lie wasn't working. There was a few voices beyond the lockers, and Félix took a step towards her, making her all the more nervous.

"You were being a pervert, weren't you?"

"I...wouldn't say that. I mean you could call it studying biology, maybe?"

"Pepa."

Oh the way he said her name. So firm, so serious, it made her knees tremble like a newborn lamb. She rubbed the mist at her face.

"Okay, yes. I got curious, so I snuck in."

"You know you can get into a lot of trouble if you get caught. I should snitch on you."

"But you won't, because?"

"Because I know you. I try telling you no, you just keep going till you get what you want. So, I'm just going to give you exactly what you want."

She was about to ask what he meant, when he grabbed her hands in his own, thumbs digging into her palms, and pinned them over her head. The sound of him pushing them against the metal lockers was enough to jumpstart her poor little heart. Then, he pressed himself against her, big, wet body and all, and kissed her. At first, it was the kisses she was used to. Simple, yet firm. Then he decided that wasn't enough.

His tongue slipped past her lips, rubbing against the inside of her cheeks, against her tongue. He was so slow, yet so demanding about it too, inhaling her moans with every slow caress of his tongue. He was relentless too, only stopping when he wanted to mutter things against her ever drooling lips. Dirty things that'd make the lord himself blush. Things about her being a bad girl, about her deserving a million guys pinning her down and kissing her, till she was practically drenched in drool.

"But right now...that's my job. Those pretty lips are mine. And god do I fucking want them."

It didn't matter how many kisses he got. He wanted more. He was a beastly man, possessive, sauve, almost overwhelming. She only just now noticed she was dripping down her legs. All this? Over some kisses and naughty words?

"Shh, quiet, Pepi. You want those guys to hear me fuck that mouth with my tongue? You're getting so fucking loud."

She heard herself as he slid his tongue back in. Oh he was right. She was muttering and mumbling and moaning like a little whore, all because his tongue was against hers, all because it wouldn't stop feeling so big and thick and hot and wet and-

She was going to cum. Oh my god, she was going to cum. Her little hips bucked against him for some type of stimulus, but received none. She was a drooling, soaking, shaking mess, all because of his nimble, talented tongue. And he knew it too, loudly slurping up her spit as he only kissed her further and further to her first ever hands free orgasm. His lips silenced her own cries as she finally gave in, letting herself cum, right in the boy's locker room. He wouldn't move, just made her sit there and relish in her own bliss. When he pulled away, drool still connected their tongues. She swallowed, absolutely out of breath, her words practically a whisper.

"I. I didn't. Know you could even do that...~"

"I can do a lot of things. Like keep that pretty face out of trouble. You've had your fun, no more coming back in here, okay?"

"Si. But just...one more kiss?"

He buried his fingers in her hair with one hand, pulling her into a kiss, while his other hand dug so tightly into her ass, she hoped it'd bruise. It only lasted a second unfortunately, but it was enough to get her feeling dizzy all over again.

"Happy?"

"Mhmm~"

"Good. Now go on, before you get us both in trouble."

He gave her a pat on her butt, before helping her leave. She made her way to the cafeteria, where her friends were, and sat down. Osma raised a brow at her.

"What's up with you?"

"You know Félix Castillo?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna wife him the fuck up."

Félix Madrigal. She liked how that sounded.