#candy claws if you squint

[feel-the-fire]

Page 2

[vshushmshu]

moonkissed

the sun set on a peaceful day, and the moon made itself known. for some reason though, it decided to do so while you were in the bathroom, “friend.”

you pursed your lips at the tapping on the closed door, “moon, i’m literally taking a shit. give me a minute.”

“language.”

“whatever, then i’m taking a little booty-pooty, okay?”

“actually, might be worse. nevermind.”

“that’s what i thought. away with thee.”

“mean.”

you hadn’t really taken longer than two minutes after that, but you opened the door to find your robot keeling over dramatically in the hallway, as if dying from the agonizing wait he had to endure. you kicked at his leg lightly, snickering when he exaggeratedly jolted and writhed in pain, “oh, come on, dude. really?”

he didn’t move after that, dead still, with not even a claw at the air surrounding you, “how could you. too long. killed me. dead.”

a sigh, and you promptly turned around, headed for the kitchen, “tragic.”

not even five steps away, and the moon was by your side once more, “it’s late.”

you raised a brow at him, gently punching his arm from where he shuffled beside you, which earned you one back, “the sun just set, big guy. i’m pretty sure there’s still some light left, actually.”

a peek out the blinds confirmed it to be true, the sky still a mix of light pinks and purples that slowly were dissolving to the dark blues of night, and maybe you stood observing for too long. moon tugged at your shirt collar, lightly so as not to choke you, and you took the cue to step away, “never too early for sleep.”

you squinted at him, batting away his hand, to which he complied, and then made your way towards the kitchen again, “you’re just saying that cause you have an agenda. what if i wanted to hang out with you?”

he stayed silent for a moment, watching you look for some candy in the lower cabinets to snack on, “you hang out with us every day, star. not going anywhere. sleep.”

everything was in the upper cabinets, and you didn’t feel like getting a stool to give you the couple inches of height you needed to be able to reach. you turned to him, making a face while raising your arms in request, while he almost seemed to laugh in amusement, “i will sleep, just later. i wanna get some gummies now, though.”

his faceplate clicked as he rotated it to the side, hands reaching out to hover at your sides, “hm, magic word?”

you deadpanned at him, “seriously?”

“seriously.”

you pressed your hands together as if praying to some benevolent god, when really the animatronic bordered on the chaotic evil spectrum, “pretty pleaaseee? with a cherry on top??”

there was a low laugh from him, and he rested his palms on your hips, “and extra whipped cream? with the promise you will sleep at decent time, for once?”

rubbing at your forehead, you nodded along, “yeah, yeah, extra whipped cream, and i promise. can i get the gummies now?”

“of course.”

and with that, the moon lifted you into the air with no effort at all, holding you in place at his mid-torso while you wrapped your legs around him to stay secure, and rummaged through the cabinet until you found the gummies you wanted. you cracked the suckers open, and moon didn’t bother to put you down for a minute, supporting you with one arm and flicking your forehead playfully with a free hand, his faceplate slowly ticking back into place, “happy?”

you gave him a scowl as you popped a gummy into your mouth, rubbing at your forehead before flicking his in return, to which he gave you a less than impressed look that you pretended not to acknowledge with a laugh, “happy.”

“don’t understand why you love sugar so much.”

“put me down, you heathen.”

the next couple hours were spent playing video games, catching up on any work and the like, with the moon peering over your shoulder to mock you when you died or quietly redirect to the correct answer. you were torn on punching him in his flat face or giving him a fat hug, though you considered the former hurt way more, so a hug was chosen; he was confused, but let it happen, soothingly rubbing circles into your back. the pair of you were laying on the couch now, you being on your phone, almost doomscrolling, if not for the fact that moon pointed out something he found funny in the show he was watching every once in a while. the celestial animatronics were always very interested in any form of media, be it reality tv shows to puppet plays.

they must be glad to have the entertainment, a thought. you had looked up once more to catch a glimpse of moon staring at the television with rapt interest, only to find him looking right back at you silently. you raised a brow, “moon?”

he tapped his finger on one of your legs idly, that you had spread out onto him with little to no grumbling from the robot, and hummed to himself, “you promised.”

you checked the time on your phone again, groaning a little, “wh- really? it’s not even that late!”

moon narrowed his eyes, “promised.”

huffing, you shoved your cellular device into a pocket haphazardly, hauling yourself off the couch, “whatever, i regret it.”

with that, you started walking towards the bathroom, but not before yet again witnessing a contortionist trick that the robot did to flip off the couch and onto the floor beside you to follow along. you cringed at the fact that several bones would be broken if a human ever tried to even attempt that, while the moon held up it’s index and thumb in the shape of an L in your face, grin cheeky, “offended gasp.”

“apathetic scoff,” you didn’t laugh, not even a huff of air, but his smile still seemed to stretch at the edges as if placid while you opened the door, moon flicking on the dimmest of nightlights you could find at the store.

you thus began the tedious task of brushing your teeth, the animatronic placing floss and mouthwash on the sink from behind the mirror, while you squeezed out a bead of toothpaste on your brush. you gave him a grateful look, and moon simply ruffled your hair a little, smoothing it back into place when your expression fell into a scowl, chuckling. after the whole shebang was done, you presented an exaggerated smile to your animatronic roommate to show off the now cleaned teeth, which prompted a congratulatory thumbs up from said animatronic accompanied with a gentle push out the door. the door clicked behind you as you complained, trying to give him your best stink eye, “do i have to sleep? now?? it’s barely 11 o’clock!”

he didn’t have to push you anymore though, you trudged your way down the hall by your own accord, moon in tow, “yes.”

a high pitched, mocking “yEs” left you at his response, moon snickering at the stupid face you made to accompany it. you laughed at it yourself a bit, even if not at all thrilled to be laying in bed so soon.

you stared at the ceiling, not even able to count the popcorns due to the darkness. the only light source was the moon’s eyes, led’s sometimes flicking to you to check if you were still conscious, before going back to whatever they did in their computer head. it was maybe the eighth time when he decided to speak up, “can’t?”

a sigh, “what time is it?”

there was a pause, and you traced out the outline of stars you could barely see on their dumb jester pants, the bot patting your head in an attempt to soothe, “1:37.”

you groaned in annoyance, gripping the blanket tighter around you as you curled into him a bit more, arms meeting you half-way, “man.. at least i tried? ‘m sorry.”

he leaned down a little, the bottom of their faceplate bonking the top of your head, and it made you smile a little despite how your eyes burned when you closed them, “no apologizing, it’s okay.”

“okay,” you wrapped your arms around him, the latter reciprocating a light squeeze with arms that were already holding you prior, and you hummed, “need to get more melatonin.”

the animatronic traced the same star shapes into your back, “we will remind you to call. gummies do not work.”

you made a face at him, but didn’t move in the slightest, “i don’t like calling the doctor’s.. and the gummies taste good!! leave me alone!”

eyes looked at you for a minute, before hands began to push you off and untangle the animatronic out from under you, but you held on, “PFFT- wait, not literally!”

there were lilting chuckles, patting your back as hands pulled you back to rest against him, an amused moon relaxing back into his position to now rub at the skin under your eyes, “in the morning.”

you deadpanned, “evil.”

there were a couple more bonks pressed to your hair, which elicited a couple smiley grumbles from you, “the most.”

[ sunkissed ]

[ckret2]

Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet. 

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me." 

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers.  In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes. 

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

[dracobrooklyn]

|| MDNI 18+ ||

Did anyone ask for Vox x Female!Reader headcannons? No? That's fine. As Thanos said "Fine, I'll do it myself." and I just did.

This is a Cannon x Female!Reader just a heads up. I do take some cannon stuff from the Show, but I also add my own things in their, these are just guess's since we don't know what's gonna happen in Season 2.

CW: There is NSFW stuff in this, Sugar Daddy x Sugar baby theme, pet names, P in V sex, spanking, biting, scratching, and a bit of Age-gap.

Word count: 777

Vox is very much old fashion so dating him, he very much can be a gentleman with his lover. His sweet little sugar baby. Opens the door for you, pulls out the chair for you and gently slides you back in. Kiss's your knuckles as a token of affection and greeting. Vox I like to think absolutely would sometimes sends flowers if he is inspired or saw them thinking about you.

I mean why are you dating him? Isn't he dating Valentino and Velvet? Well yes he is, but why not have more in the circle. Also yes you are probably in your middle to late 20's and he probably in his late 30's Early 40's... But he also offered a good price to be his arm candy. $5,000 Dollars. Welp time to put on that makeup, and cute heels he likes.

Vox isn't into much PDA but he will wrap an arm around you to keep by his side. Sit on his lap in a club or even when he's working onto his chair. May run his Blue neon claws through your hair just to get a good feel of them while listening to someone talk or reading something. Maybe smell the shampoo you used in your hair.

Vox will SPOIL you! And I mean it. The Man will buy you so much Jewelry. Nice new clothes, dresses, shoes, and yes sexy lingerie. Or he will get Velvets stuff for free cause yeah they work together. He likes to dress up his lil Sugar baby. The Lingerie he likes black, anything with black and some blue in there, he will lose his mind! In a good way that is. You see the red blood of the corner of his mouth seeping as he grins at you wearing that delectable outfit.

Vox will want you to call him daddy. I am not kidding he will look at you smirking as he hands you a gift you say "Thank you." to him as he wiggles his brows at you as he asks "How about thank you daddy~?". You're not sure if you like to say the nickname, it's in a way degrading to yourself... but at the same time you can't help but blush and mumbled it out making him grin showing his sharp teeth, and the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth again. Vox is a Switch, I am sure he very much bottoms when it comes to Valentino or maybe Tops the Moth man when Valentino feels like taking it up from the ass. But with you, you're the Sub, and he's the Dom. He will want you to call him daddy while he is thrusting into you. Resting your knee's onto his shoulders trying to bend you as much as he can so he can thrust deeper inside your plush wet Pussy.

Will the man electrocute you sometimes during sex? A little yes, I like to think his blue tongue does lick onto your skin and you feel a little shock. Causing goosebumps onto your skin. Even more so he will do it to your nipples as well. Vox also is a Biter, I mean with those sharp teeth, He leaves marks. The Bite marks glow neon blue but they slowly fade away over night only leaving the bite marks.

Vox's pet names towards you is "Kitten, Sugar Tits, Princess, and Sweet heart." and sometimes "Brat." if you act up because this man is a Brat tamer. He will grab you and give you a soft spank as a warning. If you continue, he will later at night give you a punishment worth deserving.

Vox loves lip play. Gently takes his blue claw thumb gently flicking your lip lovingly tracing his thumb onto them as he licks his teeth slowly. He loves looking at your lips, just thought of them kissing something to vile as he is. Or even sucking him off.

Vox cums neon blue cum... I'm not sorry and I was not the only one who thought that, don't lie.... *squints eyes* Vox uses Sex toys?.... Honey.... the man is the vibrator... XD JK but he does yes, he will get creative though as long you like it of course. I like to think he communicates with his partner, unlike Valentino the rat. And Yes use Aphrodisiac's if you're alright with that. Give you a better sex experience.

His Aftercare is meh, it could be better but he at least make sure you have something to drink after fucking you. Makes sure you didn't get hurt from his claws cause he do have those sharp claws. They hurt guys... ouch.

[nomsfaultau]

my trick or treating rounds this year involve any [and possibly all] of your Philzas, so… trick or treat!!!

[Yes, I scaled the cliff wall to the Ravengence nest]

[my costume is a witch, I have a crow, he sits on my shoulder :3 ]

(in order)

Where do babies come from!Philza: *You approach a normal house. When you knock there's a flurry of activity and laughter. When Philza opens the door he's batting off a hoard of kids trying to grab the treat bowl that he's holding over all of their heads. Philza blinks at you in surprise. He's also wearing a witch costume.* Hey mate! We're twinsies! Haha here you go- *Gives small piece of candy. He's poor lmaoo*

Where, then, do your loyalties lie?Philza: *The house is dim, and there is no response from within even after a few rings of the doorbell. A faint shuffling inside, lethargic, as if it's too much effort to try. When you call for Philza, there is a soft, choked sob. The door never opens. When you leave, you are tailed by people in soldier uniforms that are a little too authentic to be costumes. They want to know why you're looking for him.*

Golden Apples (Gilded Atrophy)!Philza: *There's a loud swearing when the doorbell rings, and a harried assurance he's coming. A winged man props open the door, clearly digging through a bag to try and find some type of treat to give you. At last he pulls out a shimmering golden apple, and he freezes, staring longingly at the magic pooling at his clawtips. You, too, are drawn in, instinctively reaching for the golden apple, and Philza scrambles back.* Trick, *he snaps, slamming the door in your face so you can't steal it from him.*

Where Hearts Roost!Philza: *The witch stares at you, large claws digging into the floor a little. He half laughs.* Now that's cultural appropriation, there. Almost enough to earn you a trick! But no, here you go. *A flick of his hand, and a cauldron flies over, some type of caramel sweet floating out and into your waiting hands. A second one flies over to the fake crow. Or- it was a fake crow too seconds ago, but now he lives and breathes. Philza grins at him. The candy tastes like laughter on a summer day and the spray of a waterfall. When you skip back, your feet barely tough the ground. You round the corner. The cottage isn't there when you look back.*

Mandatory Family Reunion!Philza: *Klaxons start going off. Bars slam down over the windows and doors. Helicopters whir overhead. The sound of sliding metal and thumps and steel toed boots. The doors burst open to find an out of breath Philza. Well maybe. A blanket has been thrown over head to make a very last minute ghost costume, and the draping doesn’t really hide the many many guns strapped to his body armor.* Haha trick or treat mate! Here yah go. *Philza hands over a full sized candy bar. You will be stalked for the next month*

Fault!Philza: *The chatter inside immediately dies the moment there's a knock on the door, almost fearfully so. A passing buzz of a bee, by your face, and an argument starts inside, raucous enough you can make out what sounds like a debate on murdering you. Uhhh...was this supposed to be a haunted house? Someone marches through the house...in the wrong direction, like they aren't familiar with the layout. Eventually the door is thrown open to a cool dragon costume. He's holding a very recently and messily carved turnip with an ember glowing inside.* And a happy Allhallows' eve to thee! Uh. Haha forgot to get candy or soul-cakes this year... *He hands you a napkin with a chunk of roasted squirrel and morsel of bread* That should be enough to appease the spirits of your loved ones. Good luck with the fairies!

The Altars We Sacrifice Our Futures On!Philza: Uhhhhh huh. You do realize this is a cult, right? *The man squints at you as if utterly baffled why you'd come to the dark forbidding temple well known for serving a god of Blood and Misery.* Very very evil cult. You should leave before you're sacrificed- TOMMY! *A young kid races past and Philza scoops up the wriggling giggling brat. Peeking around Phil, you find a gaggle of scruffy orphan kids racing after a giant wolf covered in bows* Evil dastardly cult. This squirt right here is the newest sacrifice to The Blood God. *Philza rolls his eyes as Tommy blows a raspberry at him, and gives up the ruse.* Look if I give you some altar offerings will you not tell anyone we're here? It's a lot easier if no one realizes we've disbanded the cult.

116 East Normal Street!Philza: *A man in authentic 2nd century BCE Chinese attire throws open the door and showers you with homemade candy the likes of which you've never even heard of before from so many cultures you can't keep track. There appears to be a party for introverts going on in the living room, and you are invited for tea.*

Worth far more than your weight in gold!Philza: *Lots of confused squawking. Like a LOT. The sonic force almost sends you flying off the cliff you scaled. Your ear drums are ringing. Out of the questioning words of his chicks, Philza pieces together an awful lot of questions about murdering you. Luckily he's calmed down, although is skewering you with a suspicious look and shoving all gold out of reach. Tommy gives you a slice of stolen berries with jam. Techno convinces Philza to fly you back down, and soon you are safely delivered to the ground. okay well the Ravengence is definitely doing a few fake out rolls and dive to scare the bejesus out of you, but you don't die.*

Lord, what fools these mortals be!!Philza: Ahh! A guest! How wonderful. You must be quite the powerful sorcerer! *The King of the Winter Court is an incredibly courteous host and provides a full feast of food you probably shouldn't eat. He is utterly and ridiculously convinced that you are a real witch, and blabbers on about spells and rituals that you somehow manage to bluster your way through a magically academic conversation, convincing him you're a magical genius in the process. You end up freezing to death sorry happens to the best of us. Honestly that's a good ending compared to what might've happened.*

Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home!Philza: *The door opens on a man leaning upon his cane. Philza nudges a giant fat pig, who grumbles upon the topic of festivals but showers upon you fruits and vegetables till your knees bow and buckel. Lo! What a bountinous blessing the gods hath bestowed! A bit of prompting and Technoblade boasts of how much work he accomplished that the earth would produce all it had to give.* It's a balance, mate. We must enjoy the fruits of our labor with celebration lest it be for naught.

A ghost is a tragedy reliving itself!Philza: *The old man welcomes you in. There is no choice. Forced into a comfy chair that you practically melt in. In time it becomes a refuge, some place soft to sink into as he fills you with warmth and food and relieves you of the burden of life. You come to the house more and more. The old man is always there, always kind, always welcoming. You come to the house more and more and more. Tired and worn out from the world outside, ache filling your bones, stiffening joints, greying hair. You talk of your woes to the young man, sinking into the chair once more, not quite able to recognize him. The dementia is getting to you. But he helps you around the house as it gets harder to walk, until at last one day he helps you sink into a comfy chair one last time. You never get up. The young man continues to talk kindly to your bones.*

The Lambs Wolves Wear!Philza: *His eyes dart nervously back inside. Someone walks up behind, and he slips out the door, firmly shutting it behind to block off the approacher. Philza shoves a lump of hardened maple syrup in your hands, closing your fingers around it, and firmly nudging you to leave. He's insistent that you leave. Please leave. Please.* You shouldn't wear that. People will only get hurt if they start looking for witches. That aren't there.

[blackdollette]

Can you make a kappa or euro fic where they absolutely hate each other and it’s like brothers best friend and it’s just hate sex PLEASE

"you're my cult leader." | kappa

ultraviolence. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526

female!reader x kappa

word count: 1.2k

contents: kappa & reader are exes, unprotected p in v, a little degardation, a little praise, manipulation, angst if you squint

typical gang activity became complicated when your cult leader just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend. you used to be his eye candy, his dumb little baby, and his most prized possession. but he had decided that it’d be best for him to keep his eyes on what really mattered, and it wasn’t you.

that’s where the ups and downs of being in his cult came in. you couldn’t escape his occasional glances, the sound of his hypnotic voice that had whispered such dirty things to you, and the way he acted like a complete manwhore, dressing in rags that specifically gave you a view of the toned biceps that used to wrap around your neck.

but you could fuck around with whoever you wanted a could be one hundred percent certain that it would circle back to him, making him green with envy even though he could never admit that.

he acted nonchalant and bitter, which hurt you even more considering the way he used to open up to you about every little thing. you hated him, but you hated the thought of being the one to crawl back even more. so you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten in the position you were in now, face shoved into a drool-stained pillow with kappa’s gigantic rod drilling into your cock deprived hole.

you could tell he was livid by the way he thrust into you, bruising your gooey walls as he landed a harsh slap onto your ass.

“good to know i can make turn my baby back into a dumb little bitch with my cock.” he growled as he shoved his fingers down your throat, making you gag around him. his voice dripped with suppressed bitterness and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for riling him up to this point.

you’d been at a normal heist, dressed like a slut from a bad porn. that would’ve been more than enough to catch his eye, but you decided to take an extra step and walk into the room with epsilon’s hand on your ass as an act of rebellion. as predicted, your plan had worked. after weeks of not interacting with you, he grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you into an empty bedroom, slamming the door shut and pinning you to it by the neck.

he could’ve killed you right there, but he picked you up bridal-style and tossed you onto the bed, kissing you roughly as he tore off the pieces of your minimal clothing one by one, whipping out his rock-hard pistol and wasting no time as he shoved it into you.

he had been tossing you around like a worthless sack, using your body as a way to release months of tension. you were sitting on his lap with his cock deep in your stomach as bubbles of your spit cascaded down his fingers, all the way down to where his other hand gripped your breast until it went pale.

“how many other people have you fucked, huh?” he flipped you around, shoving you into the mattress as you sobbed and whimpered out inaudible words as a response. he cock throbbed inside of you. yes, he was angry, but the sight of you in such a submissive and vulnerable state made his heart flutter. 

“i’ve been goin’ fucking crazy, y’know? seeing you get hotter every day while i’ve been falling apart without you.” he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, spitting on them and moving his hand under you to rub sloppy circles onto your pulsating clit.

you were a mess underneath him, nails clawing at the mattress and your back arching as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. his hips slapped against the sore skin of your ass as his groans echoed through the room. “you’ll never find anyone more perfect for you than me, you hear? no one will ever be able to make you feel the way i do, to touch you the way i do, to make your body feel the way i make it…”

you screamed into the pillow as his words rang through your mind. you hated that he was right. that he had you completely at his mercy like a doll, but he had also revealed that you had been on his mind ever since.

his manipulation tactics always had you wrapped around his finger, and you thought that you’d finally broken free. how foolish you had been. he pulled himself out of you, making your hole feel the loss of his cock. he flipped you around again, but with a little more care. he met your large, teary eyes with a look that could be mistaken for remorse or pity with just a sprinkle of hatred on top.

he grabbed your jaw roughly, bringing your face less than an inch away from his as he spoke darkly to you. “spit it out, bitch. you already find someone better than me? have you found someone else that’ll put up with a goddamn whore like you?” the tip of his cock teased the entrance of your hole, making you shudder.

you spoke, your voice thick with tears. “y-yeah, maybe i have. maybe i’ve found someone that’ll treat me better than you ever have!” his eyes clouded with hostility and he shoved you back onto the bed, landing himself on top of you and shoving his fist into your tight pussy, making you scream out.

he fucked you vigorously with his fist, his hot breath hitting your ear. “listen to me and listen good, whore. you can hate me as much as you want for whatever fucking reason, but no one will ever love you as much as i do.” his words sunk in as you felt a familiar sensation bubbling through your core, legs shaking as you felt yourself reaching your climax.

his rhythm was torturous. you wanted to beg him to stop but secretly hoped that he never would. with a few more pumps, you found yourself crying out, moaning slurred words as you came all over his arm. tears ran down your face as you tossed your head back, nails digging into the toned flesh of his back, surely drawing blood.

all your senses disabled temporarily as you felt your body emptying itself out onto him, your entire figure trembling from the stimulation. he pulled his fist out of you, giving your puffy clit a slap as he grabbed your jaw once again, this time to kiss you.

it was a needy, desperate one. one that told you how much he really missed you more than his words ever could. his thumbs gently wiped the tears off your cheeks as cum poured down your thighs. 

he was never the type to perform any aftercare, but he left the room and gave you some time to rest, collect your thoughts as he had said. you lay there in a puddle of your own fluids, mind racing with thoughts of what you had just done.

nothing had changed and you knew that the resentment between you two was there to stay. but he was right about one thing: no matter what had happened between you, he still loved you more than anything.

author's note: sorry for losing sight of the plot yall

[danosrosegarden]

this popped up in my head while watching riddler edits🤭🤭

but i was wondering if you could write something about the reader sending edward nude photos of herself (for his eyes only ofc) while hes at work? like he would be so flustered and hiding his phone under the desk LIKE IM JUST GIGGLING THINKING ABOUT THIS!!

Secret Delivery - Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader Headcannons (NSFW)

Contains: sending nudes, feminine reader...and a flustered Eddie. <3

Note: sorry this took a bit! I've been a little sick, but writing about blushy Edward always makes me feel better.

♡ Your sweet, angelic Eddie. He seems to morph into a grayer and dryer version of himself with each passing day of stressful work. After coming home each night, he says very little to you before collapsing into bed. You try not to feel the strings of your heart being sawed at while his snores drone. You can't help but feel a bit...neglected.

♡ It had been...how long since he'd touched you? He was so much more than a body, of course, but you missed feeling his fingers hook themselves under your bra straps. You longed to hear his high whimpers and watch his thick thighs tremble beneath you. Goodness, you needed it.

♡ So...you decide to treat your Eddie to a little surprise.

♡ You feel like a crushing, daydream-laced girl as you spend extra time in your empty apartment applying your makeup and special lingerie. Edward had yet to see you in this little number...it was a lacy, soft pink set with bows and frills. He was going to love it, you were sure.

♡ After all, he worked so hard to make sure you were comfortable. Doesn't he deserve a reward?

♡ Your heart is hot and hammering as you scroll through the pictures you took and choose the best ones. The ones where your soft skin looked juicy and tasty enough to bite into. You wanted him to bite. You wanted him to draw blood, to leave beautiful, violet splotches of bruises. God, you wanted him down your throat. You wanted him panting, sweating, writhing. You rubbed your cloud-soft thighs together as you pulled his contact up in your messages.

♡ Should you leave a honeyed message for him to read? No...how about just the pictures? You can worry about whispering all sorts of candy-sweet things to him when he gets home. You grinned as you selected the pictures from your camera roll and hovered over the send button. Leave just enough for him to thirst for more. Make him suffer through the rest of the work day, secretly hard and leaking at the thought of you. Plague his mind like a brain-nibbling disease.

♡ Bags of weariness tug under Edward's eyes, whispering an ashy purple tint onto his peachy skin. Maybe he could get away with a wink of rest, he thinks as his head dips...

♡ Ding! His phone screen lights up. Edward squints and lowers the brightness before opening his phone.

♡ A message? Who wants to talk to him now, while he's fist fighting sleep at work?

♡ His hearts glitters like river water under shimmering sunshine. It's you! And you sent him...oh. Oh my.

♡ Edward's hands fly under his desk as he gapes at the photos. His heart pounds and his palms grow clammy as he swipes through the collection.

♡ He worships your body like you were a Greek goddess. His blood sparkles with flowing love and adoration for each part of it. But I believe he's got an especially soft spot for your breasts. Running his fingers along your sensitive nipples, sucking and moaning softly on them, just simply laying his head on the squishy skin...oh, how beautiful they look wrapped in blushing lace.

♡ His cheeks are burning hot, the skin screaming lobster red. Oh, he's going to ruin you tonight.

♡ Edward's far from a master of communication, but you should know he's missed you, too. He despises how work drives him away from your bubble of glistering love. He closes his phone and stares blankly at his computer screen. His brain is sticky mush for the rest of the work day.

♡ I wish you the best of luck trying to pry his clawing hands away from your body when he gets home. You're in for a long night. ;-)

[margoteve]

The Normandy Album 3:

the Marshmallow contest

Summary: Normandy crew tries to guess what Javik's reaction to marshmallows would be.

Author's note: Rex is a varren you can adopt in ME2 with Normandy mod. You can also read this on AO3. Also, I love Brooklyn 99 references ;p

Enjoy. And leave some feedback :) or suggestion for next one.

"Ladies, Gentlemen and others," Joker stood in the middle of the mess hall, arms wide and walking very carefully. "We have gathered here to answer an age old question: who here can make the best impression of Javik." His announcement got everyone's eyes on him. Perfect. "Everyone will be judge by the voice, body language and overall lack of flaire. Everyone will perform the same scenario - Javik eating a marshmallow for the first time in his life." He pushed the bowl of marshmallows in the middle of the table and a collective snicker and giggle ran through the floor with some whistles. "Let the Javik-off begin!!"

The room exploded into an applause accompanied by a loud, excited barking of Rex and Urz - Shepard's varrens. The competitors lined up to try their best.

First to take a stab at it was Garrus: "What is this glutenous monstrosity before me." He turned the marshmallow between his claws, frowning deeply without eating it. "It wasn't a thing in my cycle." He sniffed it and placed it down with a suspicious squint.

Next came Ashley. "The sugar in this is quite sweet," she stated, mouth full, with an angry grimace glaring at Joker. "Sweets are for primitives."

Next was Tali. She sat down and made a delighted giggle, humming over the marshmallow she couldn't eat.

"C'mon Tali, is that really the best you can come up with?" Joker shook his head.

"What! I can totally see him doing that!" she defended herself.

"Get outta here," Joker shooed her away.

Tali left the spot by the table among more crew laughing.

Next was Liara. She squinted at the candy between her fingers. "Looks like a sticky pillow... I never had pillows in my cycle."

The final one was Joker. "I don't care for it. In my cycle, we would throw these out the airlock." The crowd snickered, giving some hoots of approval.

"What's going on here?" Suddenly, Shepard entered the scene with Javik following behind her. "What are you doing?" she asked, suspiscious.

"Commander! And Javik! Glad you came here!" Joker glanced at the bowl in front of him and took it carefully. "We were, uh, just enjoying some marshmallows. Do you think that maybe you and our Prothean friend could try some?"

Shepard took one look at his face and just knew shennanigans were afoot. She raised an eyebrow and noticed the looks Joker, and everyone else on deck were throwing Javik. "Sure," she said slowly. "Javik, why won't you try one too."

Javik leered at Joker and his marshmallow bowl sceptically. "Commander, I don't-," he started.

"C'mon, Javik, she tried to encourage him. "One marshmallow won't kill you. I hope." She joked and took the bowl from Joker offering the last remaining marshmallow to him.

Javik glanced over the room, noticing the almost held breath of everyone gathered there. Then he looked at Shepard who seemed to be fine eating the white substance. Slowly, he reache into the bowl. Everyone seemed to suck a breath in. Javik bit into the marshmallow. He chewed. Suddenly - a small giggle escaped his lips. He quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, turning around.

"I KNEW IT!!" Tali yelled, jumping up in victory. The events betting pool was hers and hers alone! Take that you bosh'tets!!

[carnal-lnstinct]

for the halloween event

turles/bardock/goku (saiyans probably lol) reacting to a fem reader with a moo-costume (cow) lmao (or a dinosaur 😭)

It could be nsfw or not, as you like!

✦✦Content: M/18. MINORS DNI. afab reader. established relationships. domesticated bardock and turles. costume sex. oral - female receiving. nipple play/teasing. reference breeding kink. humor ✦✦Warning: explicit language

BARDOCK X READER

It’s cute. He thinks? What is he supposed to think of it staring down the tall, foam headdress of your costume as you came “face to face” with him. 

It gives Bardock some conflicting feelings about seeing you walk around in your dinosaur costume and playfully roaring at him.

He vocalizes absentmindedly on how the costume reminds him of something he ate once upon a time while looking down at you in it.

The creature wore that same unnerving expression you were giving him now once he expressed that, taking him back to that moment from his past.

…May he does like your costume.

Only a saiyan could correlate eating a conquered beast for survival to eating out his overstimulated lover and not see anything wrong with that.

By the squint in his eyes, his growing smirk, and the grip on the tail of your costume when you thought you could now slink away, your Halloween plans quickly changed.

He ended up ruining the shape of the tail and the suit of your costume to get to where he wanted, having first “ripped out your belly” to free your breasts while you squirmed underneath him, hungrily latching onto your nipple, shaping your other breast playfully in his hand.

The beast put up more of a “fight” than you were but he delighted in the taste of your supple skin regardless, gently pulling your sensitive button between his teeth until it popped free and he sucked it back between his lips to do it again.

Next thing you knew you were on all fours and crying out at the waves of pleasure, gloved “claws” and matching boots unable to get a solid grip on anything when he tore out the back of the costume and licked into your exposed folds. 

GOKU X READER

Halloween was supposed to be spooky or scary, and Goku doesn’t quite get where a cow falls into those categories.

Unless you were giving out tasty meat treats instead of candy for Halloween, then it would certainly fit the theme.

Either way, there had to be better costume options before you settled on this. Not that he’s complaining if it makes you happy and you’re having fun.

You playfully teased making it a couple costume theme and how he could be your “breeding bull”. And he blushed at that, sheepishly laughing it off.

You’d thought your relationship had outgrown those bashful responses by now but it truthfully turned you on knowing you could still get that kind of reaction out of him.

Further teasing him, you placed the headband of small cow horns on his head and filled your hands with his broad chest, complimenting how well they looked against his crown of wild hair. Naturally, Goku let out an aroused sound from your fondling and sweet words. However, he knows how this game goes and tried to scold you for your one-sided teasing.

You smirked at him in response and moved in closer, his heart skipping a beat when you purposely circled your fingers over the sensitive buds of his chest through his shirt and pressed your lips into his neck.

He crumbled within minutes of your hand at his hardening cock while you were making idle comments of "milking" a strong and healthy bull like him. The dirtier your words, the more complacent he grew underneath your touch like a moth to a flame.

You managed to get his gi loose to get his shirt over his chest for a more direct touch to his skin your mouth wrapped around his nipple as he trembled pressing up against you.

You continued to pump at his weeping cock through his loose pants, his eyes rolling back slightly from all the stimulation and a dark, wet stain appearing in his clothing where it shaped the tip of his cock.

TURLES X READER

Thinks you look ridiculous upon first glance and the double take that followed with his brow arched and a surprised stare. 

When you initially said you were going to be a cow, Turles can admit he doesn’t know of earth animals enough to think much of it, until he saw you prance out in the inflated plastic suit and platform boots

Then he can’t help but give you his honest opinion when you ask him how you looked, accompanied by a wry smile as if it would cushion the blow of his words. If this was some sort of a joke, he just didn’t get it.

But then you asked him to help you out of the suit. Upon letting the air out of it when he unzips the back, he finds you in a matching cow-print lingerie set with a cowbell around your neck and faux-fur ears. The underwear was stitched with a cow tail hanging off the back as well.

And he…he still doesn’t get what you’re going for. You’re just wearing one of your matching underwear sets now. The bra barely covered your breasts, not to mention how they were straining the thin strings keeping it tied up around you. This costume was impractical.

You dropped a few annoyed hints to get your intentions across and then he just stared at you silently, eyes scanning over your body as his head tilted and the tip of his loose tail flicked.

Turles’ eyes narrow when he looks back up to yours. He can’t deny that in theory, it was a cunning attempt to seduce him even though you failed at it. But he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of tricks.

Now, the bell around your neck is ringing constantly from the way he has you bouncing off the snap of his hips into yours, balancing you in his hold with your legs dangling off his large forearms. Accompanied by your moans, it’s all encouraging music to his ears.

There’s a string of drool falling down the side of your mouth that makes him smirk, the harsh yet delicious pumps of his cock inside you making you ache with pleasure and pain as relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm.

Is not the darkness sweet ?

[kingmaxstatic]

Where The Heart Is

A simple 764 word fic! Soft slice of life fic between two of the imposter siblings. Wrote this for discord but I liked this enough to spruce it up and post it on my socials

Toyhouse Version Link!

Restoration HQ's most recent members have an issue with sleeping. Though for one it's less of an "issue".

The restoration deciding to house Breaker in a single room by themself was a mistake. Breaker now knew this as they stared at the ceiling of their room. Webbed hands gently reached up to their chest as they looked at their bedroom door. Their eyes scanned the doorknob, as if someone would open it. They knew who they wanted that someone to be. The very person who let them leave the empire in the first place. They sat up in their bed as they shivered a little. Was this what "cold" felt like? Maybe this was what feeling defenseless felt like. Both were thoughts they had the last time they'd left Starline alone. Thoughts they had when they saw Starline die. Breaker knew after that day, without a doubt, they were a social creature. They also knew that their room was empty. Too empty.

Surge was an all nighter kind of person when she wasn't passed out on the couch or bed. She either slept like a rock or kept herself awake. There was never a gray area with Surge. The tenrec's hand grabbed some more chips before she chomped on them. Her ocean blue eyes scanned the screen as she watched the guilty pleasure show she had her sights on. Poor girl almost leapt out of her skin as she heard the knock on the door. She stretched as she mentally prepared herself to be scolded by that stupid sheep again. What was her name again? It was Lamby or something like that. All she remembered was how those sheep's horns looked more devilish when she heard her rant. "Heard" is putting it lightly. Surge picked at her teeth as she opened the door... and was shocked.

"Breaker?" "Surge." The two greeted each other, one confused the other almost formal in their tone. The tenrec's ears swiveled as her eyes followed. "Uh.. come on in, Breaks." Surge motioned with her hand as she watched the hybrid walk into the living room. "What's the happs?" Surge squinted as she looked at them. From her time with Starline she knew Breaker as a very scheduled sleeper.

"I have been having.. issues with my rest." Breaker admitted as they looked at the ground. Surge then looked at the clock, 1 am. "Jeez you don't say, Smokey.." Surge rolled her eyes. The tenrec's sarcasm was cut off as they saw the look on Breaker's face. She sighed as she motioned with her hand "C'mon I got something for you that might help..". Leading Breaker to a cabinet, Surge then opened the doors to reveal various items that.. certainly didn't belong together.

Her clawed hand then grabbed a small container, it's label having bright images and shapes on it. The curious item caused Breaker's brow to furrow as they thought about what this could possibly be. They looked like candy? How in Gaia's name was that supposed to help? Catching onto the confused looks Surge felt the urge to explain "Melatonin, sleep gummies.". "Sleep gummies?" Breaker leaned forward as they observed the container "It... appears to be for children."."How old are you again?" "15." "Yeah so you're BASICALLY fresh out of the tube." Surge said as they motioned with their hand, treating it as if Breaker was born yesterday. "Besides, I'm four years old than you and these things conk me out.. so I dunno maybe they'll help with you." Surge played with the childproof lock a little. Her mind replayed the lesson she was taught on how to open these. As the lid popped she smiled a little, being reminded of her superiority against the hunk of plastic. After Breaker had taken one of the gummies, Surge had sat back down on the couch, getting ready for more TV. They waited for the sound of Breaker exiting.. they waited... and waited... and... "Are.. you going?" Surge asked as they watched the sleepy hybrid.".. Can I.." Breaker began, their throat full of hesitation "Can I stay with you two tonight..?". Surge's eyes widened. Oh. She adjusted her seat as she looked back at them, seeing their night blue eyes staring at them.

Surge felt a pang in her chest, the same pang she felt when around Kit. Her ears pinned to the back of her head. Most nights, Surge would say something snarky. Stirring the pot was Surge's middle name. Though it was rather hard to push any of Breaker's buttons. Even then, she just wasn't in the mood tonight. She had shows to watch! So as she gently ruffled Breaker's hair she smiled...

"Sure why the hell not?"

[fluffy-stories]

Fluffy and the Mysterious Lamp of Wishes

The day began like any other in Fluffy’s realm—known to most as “his apartment.” Sunlight poured through the window, casting a warm glow over the mountain of pillows on his couch and the scattered trinkets he had collected from his previous „quests.“ But today, something strange was afoot.

Fluffy, with his mane-like tuft of fur bouncing as he bounded across the living room, had found a new treasure.

It was a dusty old lamp—an antique, brass, oil-burning lamp—that had been sitting on a shelf in a nearby thrift store. To any normal person, it was just a forgotten piece of decoration. But to Fluffy, this was no ordinary lamp.

No. This was The Lamp of Wishes.

“It was hidden for centuries,” Fluffy whispered to himself, crouching low to examine his prize. His large, reddish-brown eyes gleamed with excitement, and his tail twitched, flicking purple accents as he imagined the powers contained within. “The stories say it can grant anyone’s deepest desires… but only the bravest adventurer can unlock ist power.”

He rubbed his paw pads together, soft but determined, and picked up the lamp. Ist surface was tarnished, covered in layers of dust. Fluffy knew what he had to do—he had seen it in all the legends. He needed to polish the lamp to awaken the mysterious spirit inside.

With dramatic flair, he grabbed a nearby dishcloth and began to rub the lamp in a circular motion. “Come forth, ancient spirit! I, Fluffy the Brave, call upon you to grant me my wishes!”

For a few moments, nothing happened. Fluffy narrowed his eyes and rubbed harder, determined not to give up. Then, suddenly, a small puff of smoke drifted from the spout of the lamp. Fluffy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he jumped back, nearly tripping over his tail.

“Oh no… it’s real!” he gasped, his heart racing with excitement. “I’ve unleashed the mighty spirit!”

The smoke twisted and turned, forming a vaguely humanoid shape in the air. It wasn’t exactly the grand, towering figure Fluffy had envisioned—in fact, it looked a bit sleepy. But to Fluffy, it was magnificent.

“Who dares summon the ancient spirit of the lamp?” the smoky figure yawned. Ist voice was deep, but oddly casual for an all-powerful being. “I was napping, you know.”

Fluffy straightened up and puffed out his chest. “It is I, Fluffy the Brave, conqueror of the Laundry Dragon, vanquisher of the Vacuum Monster, and defender of Fluffland! I have summoned you to claim my rightful wishes!”

The smoky spirit squinted at him. ���Fluffy the Brave, huh? Well, alright then. You’ve freed me, so you get three wishes.”

“Three wishes?” Fluffy’s tail wagged with excitement. “Anything I want?”

“Within reason,” the spirit said, crossing ist arms. “No wishing for more wishes. And nothing weird.”

Fluffy’s mind raced with possibilities. He could wish for treasure, or perhaps a kingdom to rule! No, something even better! His eyes sparkled as he thought about what Fluffland truly needed.

“I’ve got it!” he declared, his paw dramatically pointing at the spirit. “For my first wish, I want… endless snacks!”

The spirit blinked. “Endless snacks?”

“Yes! An infinite supply of snacks! For all of Fluffland!” Fluffy exclaimed. “The people—er, I—will never go hungry again! Cookies, chips, cheese puffs, chocolate bars… everything!”

The spirit sighed, snapping ist smoky fingers. “Done.”

In an instant, the room was filled with an explosion of snacks. Bags of chips spilled over the couch, candy bars cascaded from the shelves, and cookies bounced across the floor. Fluffy gasped in delight, his paws outstretched as he waded through the sea of treats.

“This… this is incredible!” he shouted, stuffing a cookie in his mouth. “The Snack of Infinite Delight!”

But soon, the excitement dimmed. The snacks were piling up faster than Fluffy could eat them. Within minutes, his apartment was completely buried under the avalanche of junk food. Fluffy clawed his way out, gasping for air.

“Spirit! Help! It’s too much!”

The spirit raised an eyebrow. “Endless, remember? You wished for this.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I got a little carried away,” Fluffy admitted, shaking a chocolate wrapper off his tail. “For my second wish, I’d like to clean up this snack… situation.”

The spirit snapped ist fingers again, and just like that, the mountain of snacks disappeared, leaving the apartment spotless. Fluffy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whew… alright, that was a close call,” Fluffy muttered, looking around at the now-empty room. But now he only had one wish left. He needed to make it count.

He paced back and forth, his mind racing. What could be more epic than an endless supply of snacks? What was the ultimate wish? As he thought, his tail twitched in deep concentration.

Then it hit him.

“Spirit!” Fluffy cried, spinning around. “For my final wish, I want… an army!”

The spirit frowned. “An army?”

“Yes! A grand army of Taidums, just like me, to defend Fluffland!” Fluffy explained, eyes shining with excitement. “We shall be the mightiest force in all the land! No Laundry Dragon or Vacuum Monster shall stand against us!”

The spirit rubbed ist smoky chin. “Well… alright, if you’re sure.”

With a snap of ist fingers, the room filled with a cloud of smoke. As the smoke cleared, Fluffy’s jaw dropped.

Standing before him was an entire army of Taidums. But instead of battle-hardened warriors, they were all exact copies of him. Fluffy stared at the sea of mischievous grins, twitching tails, and eager eyes.

“Wow…” he whispered. “Look at them all!”

One of the Fluffys waved. “Hi there, Fluffy the Brave!”

Another one trotted over and poked at the snack crumbs on the floor. “Can we have snacks? We’re hungry.”

Soon, all of them were bouncing around, knocking over furniture and pulling out pillows from the couch, turning the entire apartment into a playground. They were all as excitable, imaginative, and chaotic as the original Fluffy.

“Oh no…” Fluffy muttered, watching in horror as one of his clones climbed the curtains and another started a pretend battle with a broomstick. “What have I done?”

The spirit, looking highly amused, gave a shrug. “You asked for an army. I gave you an army.”

Fluffy grabbed his head in panic as the chaos escalated. “Spirit, please! I change my wish! I—”

“Sorry,” the spirit interrupted, “you’re all out of wishes. Good luck, Fluffy the Brave.”

With that, the smoky figure disappeared back into the lamp, leaving Fluffy surrounded by his hyperactive clones.

For the rest of the day, Fluffy scrambled to regain control of the situation. His broom-spear had to be retrieved from the chandelier (how it got up there was anyone’s guess), his trinkets were scattered across the floor, and one of the clones had even started a pillow fort in the hallway.

By the time Zane arrived later that evening, Fluffy was sitting in the middle of the room, utterly exhausted, surrounded by a dozen mini-Fluffys all snoring softly in a pile of cushions.

Zane blinked in confusion. “Uh, Fluffy? What… happened here?”

Fluffy looked up, his fur ruffled and his eyes wide with disbelief. “Never trust a magical lamp, Zane. Never.”

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 5.1k

Rating: M Pairing: Queer-Platonic Alastor/Vox

CW/TW: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Alastor and Vox decide to go see a new play outside town! They pick up some company along the way. Full story under the cut

“The entertainment district has many fine theaters overflowing with talent. Men and women of all ages putting their hearts and souls into these pitiful distractions. All meant to keep the lowly and miserable from realizing how worthless their lives truly are. But the finest of all lies outside our dear corner of hell and upon the lofty hills of The Upper District! If one is to see art, one ought to not settle for fine or passable! But the divine-- don’t you think?” An intermingling of thick static spoke each word as grandly as if on broadcast in that instant. A golden crescent smile shone even in the darkness of the moving car, matching with the menacing red of his eyes.

Competing with Vox’s natural luminosity, the sphere of their luminous influence melted into a gentle violet. Always pushing and pulling; meeting together in a violet horizon. One claw was settled on the wheel, and the boxy frame of Vox’s remained facing forward so all Alastor could see was the smooth matte surface. The car crawled to a stop in one of the more isolated corners of the city.

Exhaustion marked Vox’s expression-- he had always given into Alastor’s demands however lofty. But when you passed by twenty different theaters because he had to see Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde performed by a certain troupe it felt exhausting. But who was he kidding? He always acquiesced.

“And that’s why we got to take the car tonight. It’s a thirty-minute walk otherwise. Look, it’s just a quick stop to give Rosie her candied hearts and we’ll head straight there.” Vox’s claw turned upward as he spoke, only looking at the man he was speaking to when the engine shut off. “Besides, if I let my baby sit in the garage for too long the battery will die.”

Parking space in Cannibal Town was always left wanting. They had to settle for a small lot behind a small shopping strip that mainly was used to load and unload products. These isolated corners always had a way of bringing out the sinners driven insane by their immortality. And these roads were always filled with cannibals. Hungry for the meals sitting inside a tin and glass box. Thankfully, Alastor’s fearsome presence would usually scare them off, which made him the car babysitter tonight. Much to his chagrin.

“It’s a lovely night! Not a single cloud in the sky, the evening’s a beautiful shade of scarlet, and the temperature is positively mild. Your rust-- vehicle’s weak battery is truly none of my concern.”

As tempting as it was to disparage the tin coffin he was dragged into, this car was the first thing Vox scrimped and saved and fawned over. The memory of how excited he was to show it to Alastor first. And their first drive was still one of his fondest memories. Especially the slaughter after! So Alastor couldn’t disparage it-- completely. Not that Vox wasn’t waiting for it with squinted distrustful eyes.

For his audacity, Alastor reached out and poked one of Vox’s antennae. A directed radio signal cut and disturbed the display on his head. Starting first with his voice cutting out. “AL-GAAh-- Kkzrrrzshhhhhhhh----”, Then graduating to a multi-colored block that had written in large letters: No Signal. At one point Vox had altered the display to say, ‘Fuck you Alastor’ but that only made him more inclined to see it so Vox quickly changed that back.

Hands returned to his lap, Alastor waited with a smile like the cat who caught the canary. He had to look his most smug when Vox regained himself. Clamped cyan teeth greeted him with a swirling in Vox’s red eye. The old picture was so cute when he was upset, it inspired laughter in the radio demon. A laughter that extinguished the building rage in the other man. “Ugh, you’re in one of your moods aren’t you.” Vox sighed.

“You only have yourself to blame dear Picture-box. Whenever I get in this car you know how I get.” Alastor leaned forward, pushing himself deliberately into Vox’s personal space.

“Yeah! Because I can’t get you to get in it unless I promise to tear a man open for you like a Christmas present! We’ll miss the opening act if we take any more detours you know. Anyway, I’ll be only a few minutes, watch the car for me.” Vox shoved open the car door, smacking away a cannibal who got a little too close in the process. Bright blue electricity crackled from his iron claws as a warning to the hungry children of the night. Wherever the pale blue glow reached, they shied away from; retreating to the safety of the shadows. A couple of cold clicks for his fingers emphasized what exactly these cannibals were dealing with if they got too close. A blaring noise from his screens scared them out of their wits, scampering into the unknown.

The door closed behind Vox with a thud, and he took a brief detour to grab the red box sitting in the back.

Alastor sat back and enjoyed the show, even if sitting alone in a dark car was never his favorite. He hated any dark cramped space, hence his dislike for the vehicle. Doubly so left alone in it. The man’s luminous presence was the only reason he could stomach it at all! So once Vox was out of sight, he opened the other door and stepped outside. The crickets were noisy tonight, one could almost hear them over the low hiss of the cannibal children. Alastor’s signal buzzed with delight, he was a man who appreciated the natural beauty of hell.

“Happy Birthday Rosie! I’m sorry it’s a little late. Alastor wanted to make them personally, so it took us a while to… organically source them. You know how he loves to over-sample.” Vox put on his best smile for Rosie as he handed her the box. Already changed into her evening clothes, she only kept half the door cracked open when she answered it. When she recognized who it was, all caution was thrown to the wind. She cracked it wide open in invitation, the hollows of her eyes wide in excitement.

“Vox! How GOOD to see you dear! And this is from the both of you?!” Into her waiting hands, Vox slipped the box. She wasted little time to undo the beautiful red silk ribbon, peeking at the sweets inside.

“Of course, nothing but the best for our favorite lady.” Charm came easy for the TV anchor, and doubly so when he was telling the truth. Rosie was no stranger to it, but it didn’t make it any less charming through the years. One may even say his consistency made it all the more flattering.

“Where’s Alastor?” Rosie leaned to the side, hoping to spy on the other Overlord. Not a fuzzy red ear in sight.

“He’s watching the car. We’re going to see the new Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde play in the Upper District. It’s a long walk so I barely convinced him to get into a car with me. Your cannibals don’t like it… much.”

Rosie giggled, the hollows of her eyes upturning in genuine mirth. “Oh, they just want to chew on the tires a little dear! If you feed them a bone they’ll leave you alone.”

“I’ll remember that for next time… I guess even Cannibals get hangry.” Felt awful like the same way Vox calmed down Alastor from his bad moods. Throw him a sinner or two and he was as sweet as a kitten-- As Mimzy likes to put it.

“Oh absolutely! Nothing quite like a cannibal getting hangry either. We’ll try to take bites right out of you!” Rosie flipped her hand, punctuating the statement with a laugh. “But don’t let me keep you, you two have a lovely night alright? Tell Alastor I said hello!”

Vox forced a laugh, thankful for the distance between the two at the moment. One would think his unique mechanical biology would dissuade them but-- it only made them damn more curious. Vox preferred to stay intact, repairs were expensive! “You have a night as lovely as you are, Rosie!”

The door snuffed out the pale yellow light, submerging Vox in darkness. More keen having once been blinded. A few cannibals in the bushes stared at him with their dark hollowed eyes. Vox conjured another burst of electricity crackling at his palm to dissuade them.

Beyond all expectations, Vox was happy to see that Alastor was still in the seat, waiting for him. Still wearing that familiar Cheshire grin that he swore grew whenever their eyes first met. It always gave Vox the sneaking suspicion he was up to something; but when wasn’t he?

The car shook with the added weight when Vox stepped inside, sticking the key right into the ignition. “Rosie says hello. Thanks for watching the car for me Al.” The engine whined before it roared to life. Sending gentle vibrations throughout the entire vehicle.

“Not a problem! You know, as long as you show you’re not scared of them they’ll leave you alone. They’re only looking for an easy meal-- and you look hardly appetizing. No offense.” A total fabrication. Alastor had been tempted more than once to sink his teeth into that firm flesh, wondering if it tasted any different from other sinners. But he could never justify testing his theory in case it scared the little overlord off.

“None taken.” Vox pinched the rear-view mirror, adjusting it to look out the back. His hand froze when he found there was a black silhouette in the back seat of his BMW. Vox squinted, then immediately swiveled his head to cast light on the figure in the back. An elk sinner sat there with their head hanging low. A dark liquid dripped all over his nice pleather seats, dripping onto the floor. Vox didn’t need much imagination to guess what.

“Is that a dead body in the back seat?”

“To be fair darling, you left me alone,” Alastor stated, looking over his nails. “Don’t worry. He’s still alive, for now.”

The artificial glow of Vox’s monitor revealed more of the figure. Their chest was moving, but only barely. There were signs of claws raking all over the body but it was shock that had knocked him unconscious if Vox had to guess. He wasn’t in danger of dying in his back seat, for now. Only torn open just enough to bleed. All over his car. No plastic liner or anything. Vox rapped his claws against the wheel, counting to ten to silence the scream building in him. Screaming only ever made Alastor wall him off completely. When he found his cool, Vox forced a smile as he met Alastor’s eyes. Speaking through clenched teeth.

“And why is there a bleeding all over my back seat?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side, large fluffy ears bouncing with the movement. Deliberately done, Alastor was well aware of how weak Vox was to them. A faint light blue blush crawled over Vox’s screen, making the white freckles on the screen more prominent. The wobble of his lips danced as teeth flashed in and out of view. A smack of a fist against the car wheel sounded his defeat. What soft muttering protests he could muster came out unintelligible.

“You know the cost of getting me in your car, Vox. A corpse would hardly be proper! You deserve them when they’re still squirming and thrashing.”

“But-- I keep plastic liners in the trunk! You could have at least put one down! I’ll never get all that blood out!” All the wiggling of those fuzzy ears couldn’t have stopped Vox from raising his voice plaintively there.

Alastor pressed a finger against Vox’s mouth, hushing him with a click of his tongue. “Tut tut, my dear! Let’s not fight in front of Steve.”

Vox immediately bat the hand away. “You named it Steve?! Why him anyway? Did he crop dust you or something?”

The deer wrinkled his nose in disgust, offended by even the insinuation. “Oh-- no. He wouldn’t be intact if that were the case dear. I saw him trying to make off with some undergarments from a lady's clothesline. Hardly befitting a gentleman, wouldn’t you agree?”

Vox’s mouth hung open- then shut. Then the box head turned and smacked against the car wheel.

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The media overlord’s whole body rose and fell with his heavy sigh. “Sometimes I feel like the reason I fell to hell was because I was destined to meet you.”

“Quite the romantic sentiment-- I’m afraid you’ll need to do better than that if you wish to have a chance, my dear. I am not so easily wooed.”

Vox raised his head, shooting him a deadpan look. “Destined to meet you, so you could torment me for the rest of my Lucifer damned afterlife.”

Alastor’s signal chirped, the ends of the Radio Demon’s lips curling with delight at an equal measure to Vox’s despair. “I dearly hope so.”

It was pathetic that a single comment inspired a blush so furious Vox’s whole screen became smothered in white. Inelegant sputtering answered him with Vox immediately tearing his attention back to the road. Focusing instead on getting back on the road so they could attend that damn play. Once they passed Cannibal Town and through the busy Entertainment streets, Neon signs flashed as they passed by. Panoramas of violence, depravity, poverty, and all the typical miseries of hell sped by. Their beloved Pentagram City.

“So, the man in the back seat. You want me to kill him too? What do you even get out of that anyway? I thought you preferred to get your own hands bloody.” Vox shifted his gaze at a lull stuck behind traffic. The sight of his partner’s face was awash in the city lights, contrasted by the deep shadows. It was a rare moment to see Alastor pensive, lost in his thoughts that put him so off guard that he shared with Vox one of those rare unguarded smiles.

It was always the little things like that-- that made Alastor’s capricious moods and constant teasing all worth it. A gentle words or a smile that was for him alone and his heart would squeeze with the most delightful bittersweet pain.

“It’s good for you my dear! You cannot rely on my reputation forever you know! The big fish will come to nibble at your empire sooner rather than later. If you cannot strike fear into the hearts of the laymen, they’ll see you as easy picking. If my business takes me elsewhere for a week, what would you do?”

“You already do disappear for weeks on end! And I’ve done fine.” Vox muttered. It always jabbed at his pride when he was underestimated, well aware of the fact that he was still living in the Radio Demon’s shadow.

Vox’s fists squeezed against the leather wrap of the wheel. Cyan pupils stared hard at the road as the spiraling thoughts of his self-worth encroached at the corners of his mind. The gentle touch of Alastor’s hand on his shoulder returned him to Hell, banishing them before they could do real harm.

“True. I keep forgetting how quickly you’ve blossomed. Feels like only yesterday since I found you shaking like a kitten after I devoured… what was his name? It was something hideous.” The recollection came with a dainty tap on his chin.

Vox clicked his tongue. “Don’t remember either. Guy was an asshole though! Hiked my rent for the third month in a row! Landlords. Figures they’d all end up here.” Capitalism was great! When it wasn’t keeping the go-getters like him down! But climbing a Sisyphean hill where the rent hiked faster than he could make money was a stark reminder of where Vox was.

“In any case! ANY normal person would be terrified! You don’t exactly have the best table-side manners when you hunt. I had nightmares for weeks where I heard nothing but you chewing on that guy's bones.” Vox shuddered at the memory. Years later? He’d become so used to it that he slept soundly without losing a wink of sleep these days. It was crazy how hell had you desensitized to everything. What remained of his humanity slipped by the day if anything was left.

The blare of a horn behind them impatiently urged Vox to drive faster. A suggestion he paid no heed to, driving even slower in a deliberate attempt to piss the driver off further. The wailing of the horn sped by as the driver slipped into the other lane, flashing the finger at him even as raced past. For all his impatience, he almost ended up slamming into another car. The wild swerving had him hit a bloody corpse on the road. Spiraling until the car flipped and crashed taking under it a few sinners happening to take a walk.

Vox and Alastor both broke out into dry laughter, with Alastor pointing at one of the mangled bodies thrown over the pavement. When lost in schadenfreude, Alastor lost what elegance he normally possessed with his eyes going cross-eyed. The particularly gorey way the brains splattered over the pavement was a visual delight for the sadistic deer.

All the laughter had the misfortune of waking the poor victim still bleeding all over Vox’s nice car seat. “Where the hell am I…?”

Alastor’s head turned ninety degrees, greeting the sinner with his dazzling luminous smile. His good mood had warped his appearance into something terrifying. Eyes now the shape of dials frantically swinging like a haywire pendulum. “Good morning!”

“HOLY FUCK!” The elk kicked back, sliding against the seat trying to put even an inch more between him and the genuine terror staring at him. As if Vox only remembered to, he hit the button locking the doors and the window. The click sent a shiver of dread through the cowering sinner. “What do you two plan to do with me?! What do you want? Money? I have money! You can have all of it! Just-- let me go!”

Alastor laughed, cracking his neck twice, extending it past the seats. Vox kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to end up like that idiot from earlier. Not that he particularly wanted to see the disturbing creepy fuck his partner could be at times.

“Don’t scare him so bad he shits himself Alastor. Or I’m making you clean it.”

A discordant signal answered Vox, souring the unhinged glee he felt from having a new toy to torment. The neck snapped back into place as he turned his head back forward. “You would be incapable of making me do anything dear. But I do know how much you adore this… bucket of bolts. In any case, I’m holding you to your end of the deal one way or another.”

Vox rolled his technicolor pupils. “We might miss the opening act. Will you be O.K with that?”

A buzz filled the air. One that the elk tried to interrupt. “Um-- excuse me. I’d… love an answer. Is this about something other than money? Drugs? Or are you… Jenna’s boyfriend? Is that what this is about?!”

Alastor kept ignoring the elk, leaning to the side with his elbow against the car door. “Even if I must miss the opening act! And I will have you know now, if you give me a half-assed performance I will pull somebody from the audience and make you try again. And again. Until you get it right. So-- best get it done right the first time Vox.”

“Of course not. When have I ever half-assed anything around you?”

Unbeknownst to Vox, Alastor watched Vox’s expressions with the reflection on the front car window. The emotive little picture box was always such a wonder, a marvel if you will. So honest around him that it was impossible to want to push all his buttons. So, he did!

“That Charleston last week didn’t feel like you gave it your all.”

“Um-- guys? Hello?!” The elk tried to get their attention by poking at Vox’s shoulder. It provoked the simultaneous reaction of both Alastor and Vox. Electrical cord and eldritch tentacle reached out in unison seizing his arm. “AIIEEEE! PLEASE STOP! LET ME GO! Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK! I’m sorry! Whatever I did, please I’ll do anything!”

Vox fought for control, whipping the sinner to smack against the back of his seat. “What?! I have been practicing that dance for weeks! I wore out my brand new fucking shoes because you said you’d kill me if I embarrassed you!”

“Vox. What did I tell you? Not in front of Steve. You know arguing in front of the children is terrible for their development.” Alastor tut-tutted a second time, even wiggling his leftmost ear when Vox bothered to turn his head. The incensed expression faltered immediately with his face losing all its color.

“Is your name even Steve?!” Vox spoke through the filter, only now noticing that his cords had become tangled with Alastor’s tentacles. The unfortunate sinner had tears streaming down his face. His poor luck to be in a car with a man who was only excited by his tears and the other who couldn’t be more indifferent. If anything he found the wailing more annoying.

“NO! My name is Kyle! W-will you please let me go?”

“KYLE will be fine, Al. Wait-- your name is Kyle?” Vox paused, blanching. “Ew, I’m glad I’m killing you now. Fuck any guy whose name is Kyle.”

A gloved hand hid the golden crescent on Alastor’s face, shoulders trembling from hidden laughter. The elk pinned his ears back, losing all the color in his face as fear turned the blood in his veins into ice. “Why?!”

Grown tired of it all, Alastor leaned back and gave the man the answer he craved. If only so he could stop hearing the same monotonous syllable. “It’s quite simple my friend. You happened to offend me when I was bored, now you’re my entertainment for the evening. You can try to run, and I’ll kill you instead. But it’ll be far slower than Vox. He doesn’t seem to have a love of the art like I do.”

“I don’t think anyone enjoys making people suffer half as much as you do Alastor. Besides, I can’t be horrible at it if you keep making me do it.” Much to Vox’s chagrin. “All it means to me is an extra trip to the dry cleaners.”

The slow roll of the car as they turned into a parking lot was the sinner’s signal to try and escape. Kyle yanked on the door handle, flipping it uselessly. The noisy clattering was music to the sadistic buck, watching Kyle with delight. “HELP! PLEASE SOMEBODY! ANYBODY?! THESE TWO ARE FUCKING INSANE!”

Kyle slammed his elbows into the window, yelping as the numbing shock ran through his arm. Twice, thrice he tried to smash his elbow through driven by adrenaline. Without a word Vox stepped out of the car, strolling over to Alastor’s side. He opened the door, offering his hand as if for a lady.

Alastor took the offered claw, stepping out from the car with eyes glittering wildly with anticipation. Ruby's irises flickered between Vox’s luminous screen and the sinner beating his fists against the glass walls screaming for help. A few of the theater go-ers would rubberneck, curiosity getting the best of them but… nobody was coming to save them. The sight of the two familiar overlords would dissuade all but the most foolish heroic souls. And hell had no place for heroes.

People were already filing into the theater. Spotlights danced, banishing the darkness of night around it. The stage title ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ was prominently written in lights. Vox sighed, looking at the distant glamour of the stage waiting for them. He hesitated by the car door. “Hey, Al.”

“Hm?” The hum was accentuated with an especially thick static filter. Alastor knew that look, Vox was having one of his moods now.

“Was there ever a Dr. Jekyll in you?” The question caught Alastor off guard. He balanced on his cane, tucking one leg over the other. While the programs Vox put out may be shallow and trite, he understood the beauty of these plays. One more reason he made an exception for this man’s company. So he was always happy to have these discussions with him as much as he hated to reveal anything of himself.

“If there was, he was consumed by Hyde long, long ago. So long ago… that I thought the man himself entirely erased once.”

“Thought?” Vox hung on that word. Of course, he would be at least that perceptive. Alastor leaned forward, deciding to throw him a bone.

“Traces… of him have been returning to me these days. He will never reclaim this body of mine, but I do enjoy what it is he awakens.”

Vox finally opened the door. The elk shoved past him, immediately breaking out into a run the moment he saw his chance. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far. This wasn’t Vox’s first rodeo, nor would it be his last. Cords had whipped out in anticipation, winding around his ankle and tripping him. Vox didn’t even look at the sinner, nor pay attention to his cries as he was dragged toward him. The conversation at hand was far more interesting to him at the moment.

The elk’s nails dug at the concrete, tearing up his nails and fingers in the process. The bleating and kicking of his legs only made him look all the more pathetic, invoking a hunger in Alastor. Unaware of his growing hunger, the antlers on his head warped into gnarled branches.

It took all the self-control Alastor could muster to not devour the elk then and there. Running always invoked the predator’s instinct in him.

“Always talking in riddles… I’m surprised. I would think you would have hated anything like a Jekyll in you. I’ve never seen anyone so happy with who they are.” Vox continued speaking as he fulfilled his end of the bargain as if this was all a familiar routine and nothing more. One man butchered in exchange for Alastor taking a car ride.

The first cut was always the most beautiful, in Alastor’s opinion. Each movement was mechanical and emotionless. Vox’s expression neutral even while his claws slashed across the elk's throat in a chillingly mechanical and ruthless motion. He didn't even get a chance to scream. With such confidence in movement, you knew he'd done it hundreds of times before.

Blood sprayed over Vox’s screen, his clothes, dripping down his claws. The inhuman face had not an ounce of pity or euphoria while he butchered a man like he was skinning a rabbit. A chilling contrast to the joy it inspired in Alastor. So similar to one another; yet in some contradiction they were each other's foil.

Alastor had watched plenty of men kill others, he’d murdered countless more. But there was a beauty in Alastor’s eyes to the surgical way Vox’s claws tore through clothes and flesh. Knew the exact place to stick his hand to grab the large intestine and yank it free. The way his claws tore through bone, muscle, sinew, and fat sent a thrilling shiver from head to toe.

But the best part was the almost bored way he looked at Alastor as if asking him if he was satisfied yet. It made his heart pound. He didn’t care how the blood came down his screen in rivulets, collecting at the gaps at the bottom and streaming down the corners. How inhuman and demonic he looked. Pure poetry.

Only Vox could take a kill from him, and bring him more excitement than if he had dealt the blow himself! But he would never admit to the way his heart was clamoring with excitement at these very moments. This was the remnant of Jekyll, no doubt. There was otherwise no other proof that his dead shriveled heart still beat in his chest.

“And what about you my fine fellow? Was there once a Dr. Jekyll for you?” Alastor was always impressed with how he could continue to speak indifferently, even when he felt anything but. An invaluable tool for an Overlord.

Vox shifted his gaze. “What makes you think I’m Hyde right now?” After mangling the corpse to Alastor’s satisfaction, it dropped from his hands with a dull wet thud. Splashing in the pool of blood it left behind. With bloody claws Vox popped open the trunk of his car, throwing off his jacket to fish out a clean one.

It wasn’t his first rodeo.

Black had been traded for burgundy, a good trade as far as Alastor was concerned. Red suited Vox much better. Though he wished Vox could wait a little longer to wipe his claws and face clean. But one could hardly attend a show fresh out of a blood bath. That was better saved for dances.

Vox’s expression turned pensive. “For as long as I can remember, I was always a burden. A selfish brat who only ever cared for himself. If there’s no Jekyll, there’s no Hyde, right? I was… simply born shitty.” It wasn’t self-deprecation a man spoke because he wanted to be reassured. And he’d be asking the wrong man for it anyway.

It was a personal truth, spoken robotically as if one might talk about the weather. But Alastor could tell, in the way his hands hesitated for half a second. This was a piece of himself that he wanted to share with Alastor, as foolish as it was. “So, I spent my entire life convincing everyone I was a Jekyll instead. Became damn good at it too, even convinced myself. Sometimes.”

The trunk boomed as it shut closed. A new jacket was thrown over to cover the bloody sweater beneath. The only hint that he had torn a man open was the little blood splatter lingering on his bow tie. A small touch that Alastor would not dare to rob himself of the pleasure of speaking up.

“But that’s why I’m glad I found you.” Emotion returned to Vox’s voice, gentle and hopeful.

Vox’s cyan teeth were stained in blood as he flashed Alastor a toothy smile that took up half his screen. The very same that became his favorite since the first time he laid eyes on it. Full of those beautiful sharkish teeth that could tear a limb clean off drenched in the blood of a sinner. More beautiful than ever.

“I feel no need to hide my true nature when I’m with you.”

[strafethesesinners]

What Color Does Your OC’s Love Feel Like?

tagged by @shallow-gravy @cassietrn and @inafieldofdaisies to do this quiz for my ocs thank you :3 I wasn’t sure how to do this for my ship exactly so I just did the main boys

@florbelles @deputyash @socially-awkward-skeleton @nightwingshero @trench-rot @nuclearstorms @afarcryfrommymain @belorage @ms-rampage @henbased @adelaidedrubman and whoever wants to brain is fuzzy rn

bright sunny yellow

Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bonce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.

soft fresh green

Nice breeze, bare feet and freshly cut grass. Your love is a lighthearted hope for the future. It's protecting your eyes from the sun but enjoying the light rays still, it's laying on the grass and feeling it tickle your neck. You look to the side and they look back at you, full of hope and plans too. You plan together and laugh all day and your sunburn will feel like them. Your love is delicate, hesitant. A well curated binder full of collages for a future you can't be sure will come, but you keep going, you keep planning, you keep squinting at the sun and smiling, and running your hands through the grass so it will smell better. You keep holding onto the bright sky even as the sunsets, even as the starry night stares back. But you keep on holding, you keep on dreaming, you close your eyes and feel the sun on your skin and convince yourself that the sunburn is good, it's something to hold on to, just makes it linger a bit longer. Your love is a lighthearted hope for the future. It's sweet and wonderful and it keeps love alive, makes the world a better place. You run your hands through the grass, clench your fingers tighter and keep making plans. And I can only thank you and hope I can learn to love like you someday

deep staining red

Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

[anomaly-beans]

Trick or treat! Sits in your inbox

Instead of the blog owner you expected to answer the door, a disheveled and tired looking person in a hastily put together werewolf costume comes to the door, squinting down at you.

“Bit early in the day, but alright…” they yawn and hold out the bowl of assorted candies to you in gloved, furry paws with over-exaggerated claws on them.

[twothpaste]

( ok ok, one more sneak peek before i finish this sucker )

So. You delve into the jungle's jaws.

The vines and wires are first to lash out. Viper's fury. Constrictor's crushing snare. They'll slither up unwary ankles, and snatch away any clumsy hands that venture to tame them. Getcha hopelessly lost. Or tripped up, dragged to your knees, before ya know what hit ya.

Stairsteps nearly get the better of Kumatora. Stumbling over an invisible jumprope, with bright violet ribbons at either end. And an oversized king's cloak, bound to tiny shoulders. She bites her tongue. Hard. So as not to beckon concern with a careless "Fuck…!!"

Lucas may be daunted by the thicket. 'Specially in such murky darkness. Power's out, y'know. No candles. Princess' orders, which go sternly without saying. There's one difference between the domains of Hades and Lucifer - and that's hellfire. Kiddo knows the trick, though. With roots, and knotted hair, and throngs of cords. It's like one of those Chinese finger traps. Y'don't yank 'em. Y'take 'em nice n' easy. Power plugs. DVD Player. He hasn't the faintest idea what HDMI actually stands for, but he's soothing its fearsome tangle like a goddamn snake charmer.

While Kuma claws her way up the railing, straining against poison ivy clutches.

It seems a wreckful act. To rip such a fixture so tenderly from its seams. The sin weighs sleek and black and heavy in Lucas' arms. Severed veins trailing behind him. Bleeding wide-screen memories, in high-definition. Always aglow with homely women's recipes, or insightful documentaries, or some art film he'd never heard of before or since. They'd huddled close once - the two of them - between plush couch cushions and afghan blankets, to revisit a prehistoric childhood classic. A Land Before Time, if you will. He recalls slipping toward that sacred dozy dreamland of his. The pristine peace he's scarcely known, in these years of aftermath.

Now, the TV stand is a raw gash. Nothin' but loose shreds and exposed wood. Like when the city had his old favorite tree at the park reduced to a blistering stump. And him to a blubbering raincloud.

Flint's strength, in striking contrast, brims through his burgeoning muscles. Urges him along.

He'll carry whatever he's asked to.

And then some.

On his way out, a pair of big Coca-Cola eyes watch the great lumbering dinosaurs that ain't on the screen anymore. Sip o' birthday girl soda pop, through a glitter-dazzled crazy straw. Pink tutu. N' the tiger striped facepaint.

Lucas squints. Hesitates. At the doorway's precipice.

"What's wrong, Littlefoot?" she asks. In a voice like a ravenous bite of cotton candy. "Y'look like y'ain't never seen a ghost before."

[eggsmuses-a]

#ﾞ ᴇ ——— ❝ Father, ❞ Eido's ocean-blue eyes peer over the desk within the Kell's office. The Scribe squints, drumming the table with her claws with anticipation. ❝ The Guardians were hosting a festival. ❞

Straightening the fabric laid upon the table while sorting the pencils laid out, Eido's gaze softens. ❝ They told me there would be markets, and rides within the City for the Dawning ... I was wondering if you'd like to join me. ❞

❝ I would go with the Guardian, but I thought you'd enjoy some time away from your work. They promised there would be cotton candy ! ❞

&. with that, she places a bundle down before Mithrax. The fabric folds in on itself, the cubic shapes within pressing along the walls of the bag. She unties the sack, revealing the soft fervent hues of blue Glimmer &. sparkling Bright Dust. There's surely enough to buy Dawning cookies, weapons &. other materials for convenience or fun. It's clear that Eido has been saving over the past few weeks.

❝ ... &. this is also my way of saying I'm sorry. We've both had trouble connecting since we recovered the last of the relics. You deserve just as much as I do. So ... let's spend some time together. ❞

@mantleoflight filled the interest tracker !