#eh its kind of a shot in the dark but I thought it would be a fun similarity to draw between

[justagaycryptid]

Hey what if the markcu was like Legend of Zelda in the fact that the same characters are forever bound to a cycle of reincarnation/living out the same story with each having the same roles over and over again. Like wkm would be Skyward Sword and Space would be like... idk pick one since canonically Skyward Sword is the first game that establishes the reincarnation cycle. Its how Engineer Mark and Actor Mark could be the same but also different. Sorta like how when you compare Zelda in like Twilight Princess to how she is in Wind Waker, they’re essentially different characters but with some fundamental similarities. Wilford breaks the rules of the story and so that’s why he can move between different cycles. 

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[ckret2]

Chapter 39 of human Bill Cipher is SURE he's about to escape being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Ford's confronted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit too obsessed with Bill.

And meanwhile, Bill has found a way to reach his loyal cultists... if he can find somebody willing to help him make contact.

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

(warning for an incident of self-harm via burning, and depersonalization and/or dysphoria (depending on how you interpret it) re: Bill feeling even worse about his body than usual.)

####

Soos, Stan, and Ford had stayed up half the night trying to generate enough NowUSeeitNowUDontium to prevent it from vanishing the moment one of them lost (or gained) focus. They'd eventually given up and stayed the night in Northwest Manor. Soos had texted Melody around midnight, and she'd immediately replied (which alarmed Ford, but Soos assured him she was used to those hours) and agreed, with some trepidation, to spend the night by herself in the shack so that the kids wouldn't be alone all night with Bill. She'd texted a half hour later to report that the bathroom was a disaster, but the kids had reassured her it was just some werewolf thing, so, not a big deal.

Ford had thought getting to spend a night without Bill under the same roof would be a relief. Instead, he found his sleep was even worse. He kept worrying about what Bill might get up to so far away and out of sight, where Ford couldn't do anything to stop him. Surely, by nighttime, Bill had to have noticed that the only humans he'd seen all day were the kids? Would he consider Melody any kind of threat, no veteran to combating Gravity Falls' weirdness?

It figured that the dream demon would find a way to disrupt Ford's sleep when he wasn't even there.

####

Ford had given up on sleep around two in the morning and gone wandering until he stumbled across a den with walls covered in bookcases, massive windows overlooking the forest below, and a pair of richly upholstered armchairs turned to gaze out the windows. He drifted between the chairs to one of the windows. It was the kind of personal library he'd dreamed of accepting esteemed guests in, back when he'd fantasized about one day being rich and famous. He suspected the Northwests had never read a book in this room.

Ford had been staring out at the still night and the dark pines for several minutes when he heard the creak of a door and soft footsteps behind him. He whirled around, raising a weapon. "Back, you spectral fiend!"

"Whoa! Easy, Sixer!" Stan held up a hand defensively. "It's just me!" He lowered his hand. "Why are you holding up a dinner plate?"

"Er—sorry." Ford sheepishly tucked the silver dish under his arm again. "I'm sure I saw a ghost earlier. I thought it prudent to arm myself."

Stan muttered, "This place sure is creepy enough for it."

"Mm. It's built on more than its fair share of bones." Ford returned to gazing out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sorry today was a failure. When I'm staring right at an experiment on which the fate of the entire universe depends, it's hard not to think about it."

"Eh, I wasn't doing too hot either," Stan admitted, joining Ford at the window. "There's only so many times you can hear Soos whisper 'Think about the miniature particle accelerator' in your ears on a loop before you zone out and start thinking about fishing season."

Ford huffed. "Maybe we should have switched places."

"Yeah, probably. I retired from thinking about science after I got your dumb portal running, and once you get your head stuck on something you can't stop thinking about it."

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

There was a moment of silence; and then Stan said cautiously, "Speaking of you getting your head stuck on something..."

Ford didn't like that tone. "Hm?"

"I was, uh... doing some light reading..." He held up Ford's journal.

A jolt of anger and fear shot through Ford. "Give me—" He snatched the journal back.

It wasn't until it was in his hands that he registered the absurdity of his own action; for the past year, he'd given Stan free access to Journal 5. He'd used it to document their travels and discoveries as a reference for them both; he'd even asked Stan to contribute a couple of entries. Based on a prior precedent of seven months, Stan had every right to look at Journal 5. Revoking that access now was... Well, it didn't look good.

Stan didn't immediately say anything. Ford supposed his own actions said enough. He tucked the journal under his arm with the silver dish.

Stan cleared his throat. "I think we're a little past the 'superhero nemesis' thing."

"It's not a problem," Ford said tersely.

"Not a prob—? Ford, you're letting him consume your life."

"He's consumed all our lives. The kids haven't been able to invite anyone over, Melody all but runs to her car after work, you ended up in a showdown with fae nobility—"

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

"Do you know how important a fairy has to be to claim dominion over all teeth?"

"Forget about the fairy!" Stan waved off the whole fairy topic with one hand. "Look, I'm not the one who's dedicated half a journal to talking about him!"

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

"—I'm just saying, if you did keep a journal, I think he'd have come up on more than a few pages—"

"But like this?" Stan gestured toward Ford's journal. "This is turning into an obsession. And not one of your normal obsessions."

The back of Ford's neck heated up. He wanted to argue that he had to obsess over Bill if he hoped to find a way to kill him—but Stan already knew that Ford had passed off that project to Fiddleford weeks ago. "How can I be 'obsessed' with somebody I barely even see? I'm avoiding Bill like my life depends on it! I talk to him less than Mrs. Ramirez does!"

"And you're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private!" Stan gestured again, angrily, at Ford's journal. (Ford defensively tucked it further under his arm.) "You're acting like a stalker, Sixer. Not that I care about him, but, I'm starting to worry about your head."

"A st—?! I'm a scientist, he's a scientific curiosity! I'm documenting him! I document plenty of things!"

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

"Including spending a whole page trying to figure out—how to draw his—?!" Stan gestured furiously toward his boxers.

Ford pointed at him severely. "You were just as curious as I was to find out how a giant eyeball and a sentient triangle make that work, don't pretend you weren't."

Stan grimaced. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that one. But writing a full entry about his posture?"

"He's not only an alien being in a human body but a two-dimensional creature in a three-dimensional body, how he moves and gestures could tell us about how an utterly unfamiliar species perceived space! Nearly all his gestures adhere to an invisible coronal plane, that betrays worlds of information about his original anatomy. Do you know that elbow thing he does when he walks—"

"Ford. You're using your great-niece to get drawings of his childhood bedroom."

Ford raised a finger. "That's—" Ford lowered his finger. Ford sat in a nearby armchair, put his chin in his hands, and stared into space. "What am I doing."

Stan patted his shoulder.

Ford slid his journal and the dish out from under his arm and settled them in his lap. He stared at the cover, then thumbed through the pages. It was obvious when they'd returned to Gravity Falls; the drawings of Atlanteans, were-rats, shorelines, and boats immediately gave way to page after page of staring slit-pupiled eyes.

"It's just... Bill is an ancient being, many times older than our universe, and the last surviving specimen of his own bizarre species. As both an anomaly and a source of esoteric knowledge, he's an invaluable subject of study. He's going to die soon, and he should die, but... between now and then, I don't want to pass up the last ever opportunity to study him."

Stan sank down into the chair opposite Ford. "You're listening to yourself, right?" He didn't sound angry anymore, just worried. "This is a guy who tried to kill us. He isn't a 'specimen' you can add to your collection of weird stuff, you know that, right?"

"I know, I know." That was exactly why it was so important—why it seemed so important—to capture Bill in words and pictures before it was too late. (It was funny, Ford thought, how Stan's very first conversation with Bill had been a murder, and yet he was the one who talked about Bill like he was just some guy; while Ford had spent so many years obsessively trying to find out who Bill was that he'd almost forgotten he was a person instead of a terrible idea.)

"When execution day comes and you think you haven't dug up enough of his history, what'll you do? Give him a stay of execution until he's dictated his memoirs to you?"

"No," Ford said immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn what I can, while I can. It's no different from your 'shopping trip' at the mall—"

"Hey!" Stan pointed a finger at Ford. "Watch it! That was strictly business! It's not like I'm attached to the guy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it! I just meant—as long as we're stuck with Bill, make him useful, and—and to heck with him after that. Right?" Like Stan had said about the scratch cards: why throw away free money just because of the source? "He'd do the same to us."

Stan hesitated. "And you're sure that when the time comes, you'll be ready to pull the trigger?"

"I know I will. It won't be the first time. I'm just glad that this time I'll be able to aim at his own head."

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

Ford sighed. "But, if I think I'll waver—I'll hand you the gun."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I promise."

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

Soos drove the tired gang home just past dawn, early enough for him to open the Mystery Shack on schedule.

"Soon as we get home, I'm going back to sleep," Stan muttered crankily. Ford—eyes shut, leaning against the window—nodded in agreement. Stan yawned, "And there'd better not be any nasty surprises at the shack."

####

Bill sat sleeping in his attic window seat, knees to his chest, leaning against the window, ear pressed to the glass.

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

He ran to the kids' room, knocked on the door—"Hey, the bigger Pines are back!"—and bolted for the stairs.

####

Soos got the door open at the exact same time Bill stumbled off the stairs and collided with the living room doorframe. Bill grabbed the doorframe just long enough to steady himself, and then bounded over to the door, shoved Soos and Ford aside, and leaned out onto the porch. "HIYA, STAN!"

Stan whipped around to face Bill. "YOU!" He gestured furiously at the wizard graffiti on his car. "WHAT did you DO to my CAR!"

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

"You massacred it! I've had this car forty-five years! I've done things in this car I can't say! And it's never, never been so—so—violated!"

Grinning ear to ear, Bill said, "What do you think of the girl wizard?"

"The what?!" Stan circled the car. He screamed again.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

"Go on," Bill said gleefully, "tell me what you think! I want the full review!"

"This," Stan said, "is the most ugly, hideous, terrible—"

Bill glanced back at a sound on the stairs. "Oh, hey Mabel! Get over here!" He gestured proudly as Mabel joined him in the doorway. "And here's the artistic mastermind herself!"

Stan choked on his words. "—b... beautiful, stunning, museum-worthy work of art I've ever seen."

Mabel beamed. "It's not finished yet, we ran out of some colors! I was going to add a dragon on the hood!"

Stan's face went white. "No no, it's... perfect the way it is. Don't—don't change a thing."

"Really? You're sure? I don't mind!"

"Really." Looking slightly nauseous, Stan said, "I love it just like this, pumpkin."

Mabel squealed and ran outside to give him a big hug.

Bill was fighting back silent laughter so hard he almost fell down.

####

"...And I still haven't found any sign of the Nightwigglers," Dipper said, sighing dejectedly and dropping his journal on the counter next to the cash register. "So, I dunno, maybe I should give up on this one and move on."

Wendy was sitting back with her feet kicked up on the counter, but she straightened a bit to look at Dipper's journal. She skimmed the news article he'd paperclipped to one page. "Oh, I heard about this," she said. "The cops talked to me about the first burglary. I was in the thrift shop that day."

"Oh, yeah?" Dipper pointed at the picture next to the article. "Did you see anything like this?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "No—but I think one of my brothers did."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, he was talking about it a couple nights ago. He said it was like an armless white thing wearing pants that went up to its face. We all thought he got spooked by a deer butt or something and made up the whole story. Then dad said we should drop it and told us we should stay in at night."

"That's when they come out! At night!" Dipper laughed excitedly. "Do you think your dad knows something?"

"Pfff, not if he can help it." Wendy pulled her feet off the counter and checked the clock. "I could show you the start of the trail my brother was on. It's like ten minutes by bike and the next big tour bus isn't getting here for half an hour, wanna sneak out?"

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

"Just promise you won't tell Gus if we find something. We've been making fun of him for days and I don't want to  admit he was right." Wendy laughed. "Let me grab somebody to cover."

"I'll get my bike!" Dipper was already headed out the door. "I've been looking for a lead for days! I dug through half the dumpsters in town searching for their nests..." The door swung shut behind him.

Wendy ducked into the living room. "Hey Goldie."

"Yello?" He was sitting cross legged on the couch watching TV.

"I've gotta do something with Dipper, do you mind covering for a little bit? Just twenty, thirty minutes."

His gaze flickered to the TV, then back to Wendy's face. "Sure! Anything for you, cool girl."

Wendy had a brief, eerie sense of déjà vu. She shook it off. "I'm not interrupting anything good, am I?" She nodded at the TV.

"Naaah, it's one of those terrible specials about pyramid conspiracies." He shook a cider can, "I'm taking a sip every time they mention Fishmasons or 'ancient dinosaur-worshiping civilization.'"

"Dude. You'll be wasted before the first commercial break."

"Really, you're saving me from myself." He set the can on the TV and followed Wendy into the gift shop. (As he did, Bill checked to see if he had anything on under his hoodie. No? The Pines didn't want him to be seen in public in his hoodie; they thought it would make him "too obvious." He rolled up the sleeves to hide some of the brick pattern and surreptitiously tucked the hood and the bow tie drawstrings into the collar.)

As she headed out the door, Wendy repeated, "Just twenty minutes! Thirty tops. I'll get back before the next tour bus, promise."

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

He looked around the gift shop—any readily-obvious mischief he could get up to? He grabbed an 8-ball cane and took it to the counter. And then he took the stool behind the register, propped his chin in his hand, gazed toward the living room, and resumed watching TV through the wall and backwards. He didn't miss hearing the conspiracy talk—he was sure it was actively making him stupider—but credit where credit was due; they made those CGI pyramid models really hot.

A cutaway of one pyramid showed its internal tunnels and chambers. Bill bit his lower lip. Oh yeah. That's what he came here for.

Several minutes went by. The door opened and a lone tourist crept in, a middle-aged woman with a sun-damaged tan. Bill straightened up and switched his eye patch over to hide his bleeding eye. "Heya! Next tour's in..." He checked the clock, how long until the next bus? "About fifteen minutes."

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

Bill glanced toward the living room, decided he'd better not start damaging his other eye too, mentally cursed the tourist, and pulled out one of Wendy's magazines to read. "Let me know if you need anything."

The tourist spent several minutes making a slow circuit of the room, and then crept up to the cash register. Bill looked up with a smile, didn't see any souvenirs in her hands, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Hesitantly, the woman said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Bill's eye flew wide open, his heart leaped into his throat, and his breath hitched. His gaze roved over her exposed skin until he spied a tattoo on her right arm: four triangles stacked atop each other, starting with an equilateral and each getting shorter and more obtuse as they descended, until they'd reduced completely and a single horizontal line underlined all four triangles. This wasn't quite the happiest he'd ever been to see the symbol of a devastatingly self-destructive high-control cult, but it was close. "Oh! Oh, this is—" He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eye shut. "I know this. I rhymed 'red' with 'pyramid.' Why do I give everyone a different code. 'But rises gold over the pyramid'—something like that, right?" Bill gave the woman a pleading look. "I'm close enough that you can tell I know what you're talking about!"

A look of relief washed over her face. "You know him." Voice low, she asked, "Is it safe to talk?"

Knew him? He was him. But he couldn't claim that without proving it—what would convince her?—telling her something that only he knew?—great, but what? Her face was vaguely familiar—he thought he might've given her a visionary dream once—but he had so many little worshipers and they were so unimportant, most of them blurred together.

So all he could do was say, "It's not safe. Everyone here is an enemy."

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

Bill paused. "We can't. I'm... trapped."

Her brows creased with worry. "They're keeping you prisoner?"

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

"Everyone," Bill repeated, "is an enemy."

She paused, processing that. Bill's gaze flickered to the clock. Wendy said twenty minutes, thirty tops. She'd been gone twenty-two minutes. "Someone's coming any minute."

"Right." The cultist grabbed Wendy's magazine, tore a corner off a page, and grabbed a pen.

"How did you find me?" Bill asked. Of all the tourist traps in all the tiny towns in all the world, how had she come in hereand walked right up to him? 

"We were told a devotee was here," she said. "Someone sent the address and phone number to the Bahamian art studio."

Bill's mind spun. How? Who the heck would know to do that? The only person who knew he was here who'd come anywhere close to any of Bill's other worshipers was...

Ford? No. Did he?

The cultist shoved the paper in his hand and turned to leave.

Bill grabbed her arm. "Stay out of Gravity Falls," he commanded. "But stay close. Don't go back to Death Valley." Between the sun damage and the tattoo, she had to be one of his Death Valley girls. She looked like their usual prey: disaffected middle class white woman, probably had a dead end job and a mediocre husband and a useless degree from a liberal arts college. Maybe being able to guess where she came from would impress her.

It did. She stopped and turned back and looked at him in amazement—and then looked at him, staring hard at his eye. "You're... hosting him, aren't you?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "No. Are you...?"

"You got me." He smiled wryly—behold him, electric god bound in flesh, how low he's fallen, but at least he still has his good humor, doesn't he? "I always said you had great intuition." (It was a safe bet. He usually told the ladies that they had great intuition. Most of them ate that up, and the ones that didn't were often a little too savvy to sucker.)

It worked. She inhaled sharply. "You are," she breathed. "I knew you'd be a woman. Oh, Mary's a fool." She said this like she'd just won some years-old argument Bill had missed.

Mary, as in Mary-whom-Bill-had-put-in-charge-of-the-Death-Valley-compound Mary? Ha. She was getting on in years; maybe Bill could start a schism, that sounded fun. He opened his mouth to say something about Mary having great leadership but waning clarity of vision—

—when the cultist leaned across the counter, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Okay. All right. She was one of those cultists. Got it. Got it got it got it. Wow. Definitely a "mediocre husband" convert, those were easy to seduce away with a little warmth and affection—nothing obvious, but get them infatuated with the idea of an unattainable incorporeal ideal lover and they'd chase him to the ends of the earth. Maybe a lesbian in denial that Bill had decided to push further into denial, if her assumption about Bill's gender was anything to go by. He tried to remember what he'd told this one.

He leaned into the kiss.

He'd done this before—in dreams, in puppets—he didn't prefer humans, but he could handle them well enough and earthlings had such pretty eyes. And this body he was stuck in made such insistent demands; a surge of human hormones washed over his brain so powerfully it made him dizzy. She broke the kiss to murmur, "Cipher, my lord—" and he took the opportunity to kiss her eyelid and lie, "I knew if anyone could find me, it would be you." He wished he remembered her name. She tugged his face back down to her lips. She was so eager. Cipher, my lord. Oh, it felt good to be revered again—

The door opened. "Um?"

If Bill had had one ounce of his power, he would have killed Wendy on the spot.

Instead, he seized his cultist's hands, ripped them off his hoodie, and shoved her away. "Whoa, lady! What do you think this is, a kissing booth?!" He laughed angrily. "We don't offer that kind of service here! Either get out, or—or buy a souvenir already!" He pointed at Wendy. "From her. Not from me."

Shocked, the cultist turned toward where Bill was pointing; and then turned back, understanding in her eyes.

Wendy raised her hands defensively, grimacing. "Yeah, no, I'm not serving you either. Just... get outta here."

The cultist met Bill's gaze for just a moment, then walked quickly out the door without a word.

Bill shouted after her, "And do not come back!" and quietly mourned as, for the second time in as many weeks, he had to watch helplessly as he sent away his only hope of getting any action/rescue.

"I am so, so sorry," Wendy said. "I leave for like ten minutes and you get one of the nightmare customers."

How Bill loved nightmares. "Twenty-five minutes, but who's counting."

"Psh, shut up." Wendy reclaimed her post behind the counter. "I think she's been here before, she looks kinda familiar. You okay?"

Bill hoped nobody else in town would recognize her. "I think I'll live after some mouthwash. Terrible breath." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, remember when you said you owe me one? You really owe me."

####

All his cultist had written for him was a phone number. Bill slid his stolen journal from its window hiding spot and copied the number down in two-tone dots and dashes. Plaintext transcriptions were usually tricky, given the vast difference between the language Bill wrote in and the languages humans used—but numbers, at least, were easy. Everyone had numbers.

And then he stared at the scrap of paper, reading the numbers over and over, until he was sure he'd memorized them, just in case he ever lost the journal.

And then he ate the paper.

And then he stacked the two cushions of his makeshift bed on top of each other, planted his face in them, and screamed.

Cipher, my lord. It had felt so, so, so good to be revered again.

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

Out in the Bahamas, along the southwest edge of the Bermuda Triangle, were two nut job hermits from Miami. Bill had convinced them that the only way they could purge their sins and purify their souls was by sculpting and selling golden avatars of God into which they could pour their guilt, and they had to keep doing it until they no longer felt guilty (and they would never not feel guilty; they needed so much therapy that Bill had ensured they'd never get). And then he'd convinced them that God's true face was an Eye of Providence in a top hat and bow tie.

Over the years he'd lost a little control over those two—in their desperation to be free of sin, they'd also started sculpting avatars to as many gods as they could find and selling them en masse to afford more art supplies—but hey, as long as his face was still mixed in with the rest, fine. Honestly, he was surprised those nuts weren't dead yet.

Somebody in this house had sent his location to them. And in a moment of what Bill imagined was stunning mental clarity, they had passed on that information to the single least dysfunctional pocket of Bill's top cult in the continental United States. Maybe when Bill was back at full power, he'd drop by the hermits' dreams to tell them they'd finally achieved absolution and could rest. Their decades of out-of-control scrupulosity would probably prevent them from believing him, but hey, he could say he'd tried. He washed his hands of all responsibility over them and their mental illnesses that he'd knowingly deliberately exacerbated for his own benefit. Not his problem.

But the question he came back to, over and over, was who had talked to them.

Bill needed to reach his Death Valley cultist. He needed a phone. Every phone in this house was well-guarded. No one would let him touch one... except, perhaps, whoever had sent the SOS on his behalf.

The only person who made sense was Stanford. Bill didn't think he'd ever told Ford about the nutty sculptors; but in the eighties he had given him the mailing addresses of some niche art dealers who would sell tapestries and statues of an obscure one-eyed god to collectors who could appreciate what they were looking at. Maybe Ford had gotten back in contact with them? Maybe he'd told them where Bill was, and they'd passed the information to the Bahamas?

Maybe Ford's feelings weren't quite so cold toward Bill as he'd been pretending.

Bill liked that idea a lot.

Maybe Bill's birthday gift had swung Ford back around to the side of reason—reminded him just how good he'd had it under a muse and mentor willing to teach him anything his nerdy little heart desired. Or maybe he'd always wanted to come back, and had just needed Bill to say it first.

He probably only pretended he hated Bill because they were surrounded by enemies—everyone in the house thought Ford was looking for a way to destroy Bill, what would happen if they knew the truth?

But the truth was there. Bill could almost seize it in his hands. All those moments where they almost talked like they were friends again, before Ford had to stop himself and leave. That one beautiful little word: jealous. And of course, there was the whole thing with the glass pyramid and the "Mysteries" that Ford had passed on—

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

As much as Bill would love if it was Ford, Mabel was the only person in the house who acted like she actually wanted Bill alive. Whatever "Mysteries" Ford was teaching her had something to do with Bill, the pyramid made that obvious. Maybe his lessons included the contact information of everyone else Ford knew who knew Bill? Maybe she'd taken it upon herself to call for help?

It was thin. And it was still dependent upon Ford harboring a secret loyalty to Bill that he was passing on to his great-niece. But that was where things stood: Ford was the only person in the house who definitely knew how to reach Bill's followers, but Mabel was the only person in the house who definitely might want to.

And he had to make completely sure of which one of them it was before he asked for a favor.

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

Fiddleford had sent Ford home with a pile of math. All the calculations he'd done to get the miniature particle accelerator to produce Dontium. By his reckoning, that there jar should've filled with Dontium faster than greased lightning; he just plumb can't understand why it trickled in like cold molasses. (His words.) He'd asked Ford to check his work, see if he'd missed something.

Ford was more than happy to help. It was a much-needed intellectual challenge that didn't involve Bill's underhanded birthday gift. Something that would let him feel like he was making progress. And it was comfortingly familiar. He and Fiddleford had spent weeks checking and re-checking each other's math in the lead up to the portal test, before they knew what a horror they were building.

As soon as Ford had gotten home, he'd put Fiddleford's papers in his underground study before going back to bed. Bill had already admitted he could glimpse the future, although Ford wasn't sure how far; and Ford was growing convinced that Bill's ability to perceive "higher dimensions" let him see through walls like they weren't there. He'd begun keeping Journal 5 and other sensitive materials down in his study at all times, hoping that the distance and layers of dirt and rock would keep Bill from peering in.

And when he'd dragged himself out of bed around noon—an embarrassingly late hour to get up, but he had been awake most of the night—he'd grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, brewed a pot of coffee to take with him, and gone below to get to work.

He'd only worked seven or eight hours with a couple of reluctant breaks in the middle before his head began pounding too hard for him to ignore. He'd been neglecting his exercise regimen the past few weeks, and his back and neck were letting him know. In his thirties, he'd been able to work fourteen hours days and still want to keep going—and that was even before he'd handed his body over to Bill so he could keep working around the clock. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

He dragged himself upstairs after sunset, when the last ambient light from the sky still faintly glowed through the windows. He could make something quick and simple for dinner, go to bed early, and get up early to continue working. He pushed through the door to the dark living room—

"Hello!"

"Gah!" Ford jumped. "You. What are you doing here?"

Bill was leaning next to the door, a dim silhouette with his elbow on the wall and cheek in his hand. Even in the dark, Ford was sure he could see Bill's wicked grin at his reaction. "I happen to live here."

Ford let out an irritated huff. "Whatever you're up to, I don't have time to deal with it. Find someone else to bother." He pushed past Bill and headed toward the kitchen.

It would have been too much to expect Bill not to follow him, wouldn't it? "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! Would it kill you to act like you're happy to see me?"

"Probably."

Bill's laugh made Ford's shoulders raise up around his ears. Maybe that was the source of his neck pain.

Bill shadowed him into the kitchen and leaned on the table, watching while Ford rummaged through the fridge. "But seriously, Sixer—who are you trying to impress by giving me the cold shoulder? I'm the only one here. You could afford to treat me like a person for two minutes." When Ford slammed the fridge door, Bill smacked it with the tip of an 8-ball cane. "Hey, have my food privileges been revoked? Give me a turn."

How long had Bill had a weapon? Ford snatched the cane from him, but opened the fridge and left it. "I don't consider you a person. I consider you an incalculably destructive force of pure, brutal chaos." He cracked three eggs in a skillet and opened a cabinet for one of the stove knobs they kept stored where Bill couldn't reach them.

"Flattering!" Bill started pulling out his usual nauseating array of condiments: today was sauerkraut, maraschino cherries, mustard, ranch dressing, and barbecue sauce. (Why did he eat like that? Did his species usually subsist on a mostly liquid diet? Was it the flavors—?) "Hey, make me mac 'n' cheese, wouldja?"

"No."

"Fine. Leave the burner on when you're done, I'll make it myself."

"You're not allowed to use the stove."

"Then how about I sit here drinking mustard while you enjoy a hot meal." Bill waved three eggs at Ford. "At least make me eggs too. Zero extra effort on your part. I'll even crack them for you if you want."

Ford gave Bill a dark look; but he supposed, as one of the people who had agreed that Bill wasn't allowed to cook, he was in no position to complain about Bill begging him to cook on his behalf. He snatched the eggs out of Bill's hand. "How do you want them."

"I haven't eaten enough chicken eggs to have a preference. Whatever you'll complain least about doing."

Poorly scrambled eggs it was. Ford shut the fridge and returned to the stove.

Bill sat on the table and crossed his legs in lotus position while he waited. "But really, what do you get out of pretending you can't stand me! We both know it's an act."

Ford gave him a tired, sour look. "Even for you, you sound delusional."

"I know you don't really hate me."

"I could write an entire dissertation and earn another Ph.D. on the topic of how much I hate you."

Ford hated how excited Bill looked by that. "Would you?"

"No! Why would I waste that much time thinking about you?"

"It seems to me like you're already doing that."

The hair on the back of Ford's neck prickled. Surely Bill just meant Ford's research into how to kill him; but his mind flashed to the miniature grimoire he'd spent all his time poring over—the blueprints of Bill's childhood home—the face he'd absent-mindedly drawn in his journal in the middle of the night and quickly scribbled out. Could Bill still see through that face? Had Ford remembered to blind Bill's eye on the blueprints? What about the eyes drawn in his human faces? Did Bill know about Ford's other studies? What did it matter—nothing Ford was doing was wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill's smile slowly widened. "Sure you don't. You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. You might as well lean into it."

You're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private. "I am not..." Wasn't he? You're acting like a stalker, Sixer.

"Oh, Fordsy, come on." Bill uncrossed his legs, slid off the table, and was across the room faster than Ford had expected. Ford instinctively took a step back and bumped into the oven; Bill reached past him to lean a hand against the edge of the stove, inches from touching him. "You're not hiding it half as well as you think you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He smirked up at Ford, exposed eye wide and eager, utterly fascinated with him. "And bringing Mabel in on it? I'll have to admit, that surprised me. Can't say I disapprove, though."

Ford couldn't tell if the heat on the back of his neck was from Bill's accusations or the stove. "I beg your pardon?" What was he talking about—their conversation in Portland? The blueprints of Bill's home? (Using his great-niece to spy on Bill, lord, what was Ford doing?)

"Quit messing around! The Mysteries, Stanford. You think I don't know I'm the star of that show?" He poked the center of Ford's chest, "There's no way you joined a cult, you're not enough of a team player! What'd you do? Invent your own cult of one? Mixed a little of what I taught you, a little of whatever you learned out in the multiverse? I know you were asking around about me." Bill chuckled. "You want to keep your little rituals private, fine—I think it's cute, really—just tell me one thing I've been dying to know: how much have you told the kid?"

Ford stared at Bill.

Then he laughed in his face. "You really bought that?"

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

Ford shoved Bill's hands away. "There are no 'Mysteries.' It was a joke."

Bill stepped back, staring at Ford, brows furrowed. "A...? No," he said. "She's got that glass pyramid—"

"She wanted it because it was pretty," Ford said. "I gave her one since I was throwing them all out."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard. Then why would she have brought up the Mysteries!"

"Because," Ford said, "I told her, if you asked about the pyramid, she should make up something to confuse you."

Bill's mouth was open, but no words came out. His face had rapidly turned red. Several emotions flashed across his face in quick succession, from shock to confusion to humiliation to a rage so deep it almost looked like disgust. For a moment, from how Bill's fingers were curling like claws, Ford was sure Bill was about to attack him.

But then he clenched his jaw, backed off, leaned on the table, jammed his fists down against the tabletop, and glared at the floor.

Ford turned back to the stove, grinning to himself. Some of the eggs had burned slightly. Those were Bill's now. "What's the matter? Did you forget that humans can lie?"

Bill didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't expect it. I seem to remember we got you with an impressive whopper last year—"

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

Good point; he didn't. If he'd finally rendered Bill speechless, he should enjoy it while he could.

He'd have to thank Mabel later for inventing the Mysteries. Sometimes that girl could be genius.

Ford turned off the burner, put the stove knob away, and dumped the eggs onto two plates. He didn't even bother to keep track of which plate had the burned eggs.

He shot a quick, exasperated look at Bill—he'd sat on top of the table again—and dropped a plate next to him. "Here." He grabbed a bag of bread and looked around for the toaster.

Behind him, voice trembling but low and dangerous, Bill said, "Don't look at me like that."

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

Bill violently shoved off the table. There was an awful squeal of sliding furniture. Before Ford could react, Bill was in his face, grabbing him by his turtleneck, dragging him in, forcing him to look up at Bill.

Ford's peripheral vision was filled with gold. They were so close their noses nearly touched.

"Like you don't remember who I am!" Bill stared down with wide-eyed seething rage. "Your muse!" His voice cracked, "Your god!"

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

Bill was standing on a chair to make himself taller than Ford.

Ford ripped Bill's hands off his sweater. "You were never, ever my god."

Bill stumbled off the chair, catching himself hard on the edge of the table to keep from falling completely. "That's not true!" He heaved himself back onto his feet with a wince. "You worshiped me—"

"I admired you!" Ford jabbed a finger at Bill's chest. "I respected you! I—I even idolized you, but I never worshiped you!"

Bill jabbed a finger back, "You're splitting hairs! You practically turned your study into a temple to me—tapestries, rugs, statues—"

"Because you said it would help me reach you!"

"And it did! That's what shrines are for, genius!"

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

"You're kidding me! All the money you dropped on that gold-plated statue and you expect me to believe that wasn't an act of worship—"

"Do not. Remind me. How much. That stupid statue cost."

"If you didn't build a shrine for worship then what in the world did you build it for!"

"Friendship!" Ford took a shaky breath in. "I thought... I honestly thought you—you—were my best friend." The air in the room trembled with heat. They were standing too close to each other. Ford refused to be the one to back up.

"I was," Bill said. "I still could be if you'd stop being a moron."

Ford laughed in disbelief. "Which is it, were you my god or my friend?!"

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

"You can't keep your story straight for THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Don't you call me a LIAR, after EVERYTHING I taught you—!"

"In all the years I've known you I don't think you've told me the truth ONCE—!"

Stan flipped on the lights.

They froze and stared at him. They had their hands around each other's throats. Bill had a foot planted on Ford's stomach like he was trying to get a foothold to climb him. They were both covered in egg.

Stan said, "Could you do this in the morning?"

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

"I st—?! You started all of this thirty years ago—"

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

With some effort, Ford unpeeled his hands from Bill's neck.

To his surprise, Bill voluntarily let go as well. Ford snatched up what was left of his plate of eggs, took the loaf of bread—he had lighters, he could toast it downstairs—and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Stan was waiting out in the entryway. "Heading to bed?"

"No." Ford shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Going to be up late." He was too angry to sleep. He could eat, take a painkiller for his headache, and keep working.

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

Stan's shoulders slumped; but all he said was, "Suit yourself. Don't stay up too late."

Ford glanced back once into the kitchen. Bill wasn't moving. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows on his knees. He'd pulled on his hood. Its eye stared at Ford.

Ford wasn't about to pity Bill over a performative display of angst. He'd fallen for that already.

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

Bill stared at his plate of eggs. He mechanically pushed them around on the plate until they formed a perfect equilateral triangle. He scooped out an empty white eye in the middle.

He stood, snatched up the plate, and smashed it on the floor.

They thought he was stupid. They thought he couldn't use a stove if it didn't have knobs, as if he was a child! The humans made it easy for themselves to think of him as a child when they treated him like one, "baby-proof the doors" and "no sharp objects" and "don't talk to strangers." He could show them.

He grabbed the stem where one of the knobs had been removed, and twisted. He heard the hiss of gas under the burner. Everyone was asleep. He could fill the house with gas. It would only take a little push to make a spark and set the entire shack ablaze. In the dark room, he could see the first glimpse of future flames flickering yellow-orange in the periphery of his foresight. No one would survive. Who's your god now, smart guy? He'd rise like a phoenix from his own corpse and he'd tear this town apart.

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

He pushed up his sleeve and pressed the fleshy part of his forearm onto the still-hot burner. The pain burned away his jumbled anger so he could think clearly.

Who cared how the nutty sculptors had gotten Bill's address? He was making good progress on lucid dreaming; maybe he'd astral projected across the country to call for help and forgotten it when he woke up. He'd probably saved himself without even remembering it. It didn't matter. The important thing was that they'd received the message; and now, Bill had friends on the outside. Friends who were on his side.

If he could ever contact them again.

Bill would find a way. He didn't need Ford's help. "Never worshiped you." Ha.

He needed fresh air. Even if it wasn't safe to escape yet, he needed to breathe. He carried himself backward through doorway into the gift shop, pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof—

The trap door was shut. He stared up in despair.

He shot a glare toward the vending machine, and angrily crossed back into the living room.

The air was so stuffy inside the shack. "Never worshiped you." Liar. If it wasn't worship then what was it?

Bill took himself upstairs. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lay on his makeshift bed curled up around himself, arms wrapped tight across his stomach, his burn pressed hard against a layer of knit yarn, thighs pulled up against his arms. It was a wholly alien position. It felt unnatural and bizarre. This body had curled like this of its own volition. It seemed like the only thing that briefly smothered the ache of emptiness and the hormonal inferno screaming loneliness through every vein. The loneliness wasn't his. He wasn't lonely. This body was. 

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

It was two in the morning. Ford sat at his desk, pages and pages of math scattered before him, glasses off, hand rubbing his eyes.

He didn't want to be checking a mountain of math like a human calculator. He wanted to be studying strange magic and researching new anomalies. He wanted to be digging through Bill's grimoire.

He wanted to be awed again.

####

(I've been waiting to write/draw Bill screaming his grief over not being worshiped since literally April. I hope y'all enjoyed! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I'd love to hear what y'all think!!)

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt. 8

Gif not mine, as always

Trigger Warnings: Smuttttttt. Horribly written smut.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-7 here

Chapter Eight

Translations: котёнок - Kitten; malyshka - baby; lyubov - love; dorogoya - darling; I probably missed some… I should have probably been doing this the entire time, no? Eh… My b.

A/N: Its uhhh.. My first time writing smut for the public so uh… be gentle pls? Lol. Lemme know how it went. Writing dialog and smut makes me cringe haha. This was also written while I was in the hospital. Is it bad that the 5 day stay was almost a vacation compared to life? Haha, living the dreeeaammm. Someone pls hit me with their car or something so I can go back and have 0 responsibilities for another week. Promise I won’t sue 😛

Once again, edited while floaty. Apparently that’s the only time I can get the motivation to open my laptop. In my defense, I’m currently in the middle of a move and starting a new job so pls forgive my laziness. I’m a tad overwhelmed. It’s finnnne. 

____________________________________________________________

During your time at the aquarium with Wanda, you hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. Logically, you knew it was around dinner time because you both had just eaten, but you didn't realize until you both entered the dimly lit cottage that it was so dark outside. Despite the long day you’d had, you weren't ready to go to bed just yet. Body thrumming with an unfamiliar energy, and you could tell it stemmed from Wanda's hand still holding onto your waist. Now that you were home, it would be socially acceptable for her to let you go, but instead, she chose to linger.

Never one to enjoy having others in your personal space, regardless of if you were touch starved, you were thrilled to discover that you didn't mind the witch being so close to you. In fact, the mere thought of being separated from her made your stomach roil with anxiety. Looking at the redhead next to you as you traversed the hallway towards your room for the evening, a new kind of craving overcame you. This one was different from the hunger you had experienced just before dinner, and you realized that you couldn't get enough of the witch’s touch and presence.

Reaching your shared room Wanda finally moves to separate from you, and as she heads opposite from you, her hand falling away, you make a split-second decision. Well. Decision was being generous. More accurately you allowed your impulses to take over, unable to think logically - you couldn’t let Wanda get too far. Not that there was anywhere for her to go in a bedroom you both shared, but your brain wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders at this time.

“Wait!” 

You don’t know what, or even if you were thinking, knowing only that in the scant few feet the witch was away from you, your whole world felt like it was collapsing. A lightly calloused hand shot out as you turned to grab her hand again, and in your exuberance, you accidentally ended up yanking the woman towards you. In an unexpected feat of grace surprising both of you, you managed to catch Wanda. Despite her velocity, you were able to use her momentum, spinning both of you. A small jolt of pain wracked through your bones as your back landed harshly against the smooth wall, with Wanda safely in your arms. Chests heaved for air, both of you having fully expected to collide, ending up in a heap on the floor.

After the initial surprise wore off, both women giggled, though neither made a move to separate. “What is it, Y/N?” the older woman asked. Amusement colored her gaze, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite decipher. You were still learning new facial expressions to this day. 

“I-” You started then stopped, trying to assemble your thoughts and determine just how vulnerable you were willing to be. “Thank you, Wanda. For today. For… everything. This was..” you trailed off, unable to find the words. “Everything.”

You hoped Wanda would understand what you meant by that even if you yourself weren’t quite sure just yet. What you were sure of is that you wanted to return to Wanda at least a fraction of the care and devotion she had shown you in all this time. You knew you didn’t want her to walk away, heart aching at the concept. What you didn’t know was what you wanted to do next, you hadn’t exactly gotten that far, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of being apart from her.

The redhead’s gaze softened at your words. “You don’t need to thank me, lyubov. You deserve so much, and I just want you to be happy.” 

The words “with me” went unspoken, though she was dying to let them out. Instead, well-manicured hands lifted the tips of her fingers to gently push some fallen strands of your hair from  your face, as she studied you curiously. A feeling you both were on the precipice of something settled firmly within the witch’s chest. Wanda was fairly confident she knew exactly what that something was, but she wouldn’t plunge you into anything you weren’t yet ready to fall into.

Though certain in her assumptions, Wanda was unable to clearly read your surface thoughts. A jumbled mass of emotions, each thought no more than fleeting before another took its place, your mind was a whirlwind. The next steps had to be taken by you, and if you weren’t up for that yet, the redhead was content with where you both were at this moment. 

A palpable tension filled the air, conveying an unspoken awareness that something transformative was about to occur. Anticipation lingered in the atmosphere, creating a delicate blend of nervousness and excitement. There was an understated, magnetic attraction that drew you closer to Wanda. Completely unaware as you were, enthralled by the alluring softness of her lips which stoked a longing within you to know if they felt as velvety as they appeared, you were unconsciously learning forward.

It was a moment of breathless expectation, where time seemed to stretch. The world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the beauty of the impending inevitability. Eyes finally connecting with Wanda’s, a silent, mutual understanding was shared, and in that moment, you made a decision.

”May I…?” your voice a husky tremor, thick with emotion.

Never had Wanda found you more endearing than in that moment. Your innocent consideration that you would need to ask her permission after everything. As if she hadn't been waiting for this very moment for so long. As if this wasn’t what she had been waiting for since first discovering the Darkhold, and all the possibilities of a multiverse.

“Please, Y/N.” The witch’s reply was all but a breathy whisper.

As your lips and hers finally connected in a gentle, exploratory kiss, an electric current seemed to pass through their bodies, igniting a fire within your souls. It was a moment of pure magic, a culmination of all the emotions and desires that had been building between you both. Breaths mingled, blending together in a perfect harmony of passion and longing.

The softness of the kiss spoke volumes, revealing a depth of connection that you were certain words could never fully capture. A tender exchange, filled with a delicate balance of vulnerability and trust. Each touch, each movement of Wanda’s lips against yours, was deliberate, as if she was savoring every precious moment of this newfound intimacy with you.

With every passing second, the world around faded away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of pure bliss. Time seemed to stand still as you explored this uncharted territory together. A feeling as if something inside, you hadn’t known had been missing, was now perfectly slotted into place. Home.

When it came to kissing you, Wanda marveled at the stark contrasts between your Avenger variant, and you. While your other variant was self-assured, often taking command of a kiss with practiced skill, you, on the other hand, were gentle and tentative. It was evident that you were willing to let Wanda take the lead, which she found incredibly empowering, almost addictive. She knew she should probably take this first kiss slowly for you, however, your submissiveness was simply too delicious for her to pass up such an opportunity.

Long, slender fingers came to rest just under your jaw, firmly holding you close, Wanda using her body to press you harder against the wall, as if trying to merge your two bodies into one. A gasp escaped you at the length of the witch’s body pressed so intimately against you. Wanda, ever opportunistic, took advantage of your open mouth to deepen the kiss, her lithe tongue swiping softly at the seam of your lips in askance. 

You couldn’t even fathom a moment where you would ever deny Wanda this request, opening your mouth to grant her the access she desired. Her skillful tongue sensually slid against yours, eliciting a barely suppressed whimper from you. With a little coaxing Wanda was able to entice your tongues to engage in a seductive dance, leaving you breathless and heady. 

Eventually, the kiss broke, leaving both of you craving more. It had opened the door to a world of possibilities, and in that moment, everything changed. The bond between the pair of you had deepened more than you could know, and more than Wanda had hoped for. Despite initial reservations, your heart knew then you would follow Wanda anywhere, irrevocably tied to the witch forever. There was no one you wanted or trusted more.

While trying to catch your breath, no words were spoken. Taking this moment, your intrusive thoughts began creeping in because of course they were. Desperately you hoped the woman wouldn’t view the kiss as a mistake, praying that you measured up to your superhero counterpart. That you were truly what she had been looking for all this time, even if you weren’t anything special.

You would do anything to have her lips on yours again, and briefly a thought occurred to you that this woman could murder you, and you would probably thank her for the privilege. Therapy, maybe you should ask Wanda if she could get you in to see a therapist, because that wasn’t concerning at all. 

It wasn't in you to feel ashamed just then though, not when the very thought resonated in your soul. Gods, was this what you had been missing your entire life? And it had been right under your nose, for ages you had been unknowingly depriving yourself, hellbent on self-sabotage.

As you finally caught your breath, the witch gazed at you hungrily, causing a shiver to race down your spine.

"What do you want, detka?" Wanda asked, voice sultry. She tilted her head as if curious, but in reality, she was relishing in your disheveled appearance, eyes raking over your blown pupils, and kiss-swollen lips. So responsive for her, and this was only a kiss. Your first kiss with her, to be specific. Wanting to completely ruin you, it took every ounce of self-restraint for Wanda to wait for your answer instead.

Chest heaving, your brain struggled to pull together enough brain cells in order to provide her with an answer. When you finally spoke, your voice had a throaty quality you had never heard before.

”You. I want you.”

Green eyes, the color of jade, sparkled in such delight they could have practically illuminated the room with their vibrant glow. As you stared into her mesmerizing gaze, you got lost in her presence. Your mind was a myriad of thoughts, unable to focus on anything else. Every word she spoke, every movement she made, had a profound impact on you. As if the witch had cast a spell over you, weaving her magic effortlessly, and you willingly succumbed to her enchantment, eager to be under her captivating influence. 

A mischievous smile played upon her lips, adding an air of mystery to her already enchanting demeanor. The grin hinted at the hidden depths within her, the playful intentions that lied just beneath the surface. So, as Wanda’s mischievous smile lingered, you couldn't help but be drawn further into her web of enchantment, willingly surrendering yourself to the metaphorical spell she had cast.

"Oh, lyubov, will you let me ruin you?" she asked teasingly, her voice filled with impishness and a hint of excitement.

Swallowing nervously, you felt desire building deep within you. Your experiences in this matter were limited, but you trusted the former avenger all the same. Still, you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever Wanda had in store for you would likely test your limits, even if you had no idea what those were yet. Eagerly, you nodded, ready to throw yourself headlong into this unknown, trusting the witch implicitly.

The moment her silky lips met yours once again, a hunger ignited within her, surprising both of you with its intensity and passion. Wanda pulled you close, her fingers curled in your hair, keeping you in place as she plundered your mouth. You could do little but let her lead the way, trying not to embarrass yourself with how much she was turning you on. Her sharp teeth tugged on your lower lip before biting down hard enough to draw blood. A pitiful whine was barely restrained by you as Wanda lapped at the new wound she had caused.

Deciding to test your boundaries during the kiss, the redhead gently wrapped her other hand around your throat. Not tight enough to cut off your oxygen supply, but the pressure did restrict some of the blood flow to your brain, leaving you in a deliciously foggy haze. A breathy moan escaped you, which Wanda eagerly swallowed as you gladly ceded control of the kiss to her. Pride out the window, you were no longer capable of trying to withhold any sounds she could draw from you. Wanda found it delightful that so far you were proving to be the perfect little котёнок for her. The redhead eagerly anticipated discovering what other surprises you had in store for her.

The other hand not on your neck moved from your hair down to the first button of your shirt and hesitated. “Is this okay, Y/N?” She asked, voice surprisingly soft for someone who currently had one of their hands wrapped around your neck.

Sluggish thoughts hazy with lust, you nodded with what would have probably counted as an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. Having someone as gorgeous as Wanda in front of you, asking for your consent, you found you couldn’t be bothered by your eagerness. You were a simp, and you were fine with that. Anything to get more of Wanda touching you.

The former Avenger grinned, finding you utterly adorable. She was charmed by how needy you were for her. Unable to help but revel in the power dynamics between you, relishing the opportunity to challenge your blissed-out mind and watch as you struggled to comply with her demands. It was a delightful game for Wanda, and she was going to have fun training you.

Before she could continue though, the witch wanted you to be absolutely sure. Regardless of how long she had waited for you, if you weren’t truly ready, Wanda didn’t want to push you. She wanted all of you, everything you had to give, but if you still weren’t ready, weren’t sure, she could wait. Wanda would wait forever if she had to. 

 “Lyubov moya, if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word, and I’ll stop immediately, okay? Full stop, I promise, and I won’t be upset with you.” she insisted, voice thick with longing as her nose grazed gently across yours in a reassuring manner. 

Even now, Wanda was always putting your safety and happiness as her top priority, endearing her evermore to you. How could you have ever doubted that this woman had anything but your best interests at heart? The purest of intentions?

Knowing it was a bit over dramatic, while you appreciated her reassurances, if the witch didn’t do something in the next few seconds, you felt like you might combust. Releasing a needy whine, you hoped to convey your desperation to Wanda who only chuckled at your behavior. 

“Relax, malyshka, I’ll take good care of you, I promise. But first, I need you to use your words, darling.” The hand on your throat easing its grip a little, allowing more blood to your brain, giving you back some of your intellectual capacity.

With Wanda’s body covering yours, you petulantly ground against her in the hopes of achieving any sort of friction, causing her lips to quirk upwards in an amused smirk. You weren’t going to get out of this until she had confirmation of your understanding, and if she happened to tease you into a petulant, writing mess in the process, well, that was just the cherry on top.

Giving in, you let out a keening whimper. “I understand Wands, please. Just touch me. Please!”

A wolfish grin overtook Wanda’s face at your begging. Green eyes locked with yours, and she could see the desire and longing in your eyes, mirroring her own. The way you looked at her, with a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made her heart flutter with a sense of joy and fulfillment. You were willing to surrender yourself to her guidance, to allow her to take the lead and shape you into the person she knew you could become. That kind of implicit trust and faith you had in her shot her arousal through the roof.

With each passing moment, Wanda's excitement grew, knowing that she had the opportunity to train and mold you into her perfect little котёнок. She relished the thought of all the fun games that lay ahead, confident in her ability to guide you towards your full potential. Your willingness to submit to her desires fueled her passion, making her all the more determined to own you completely. This power was the ultimate high, and she didn’t think she could ever get enough of it.

Her hand moved from your throat to wrap around your waist with a firm yet gentle grasp, pulling you closer to her in an undeniable display of ownership. The touch of her hand on your hip sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you that you had never experienced before. It was a possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of mere desire, a possessiveness that spoke volumes about the depth of her emotions for you.

Far from being suffocating, her dominance was a testament to the strength of your bond. A tangible manifestation of the passion that burned between the two of you, it was a flame that only grew stronger with each passing moment. Her assertive touch was a declaration, a proclamation of her utter devotion and fierce protectiveness towards you.

In that instant, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. A sensation that both thrilled and comforted you, it was a magnetic pull that drew you closer to her with each passing second. Feeling as if you were the center of her universe, the focus of her unfaltering attention, and you visibly preened under her attentiveness. Your hands which were clenching the bottom of her shirt held fast, unwilling to let her move more than a few inches away.

Now that she had your consent and had subtly established your place with her, Wanda's svelte hands returned to the task of unbuttoning your shirt. Unable to resist the allure of your lips for long, she passionately kissed you once again. As your lips moved against each other with a sensual rhythm, Wanda swiftly unbuttoned your shirt. Before you knew it, your shirt was completely undone, revealing your torso to her exploring hands. A shiver ran through your body as her slightly cool palm pressed against your abdomen for the very first time, the gravity of her body pressing you further into the wall. While you had felt her touch on your skin before, it had never been this intimate, this exhilarating.

As her hand glided over your bare skin, heat coursed through your body, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. The flames within you steadily stoked by every caress. Your breath hitched as her touch lingered, tracing delicate patterns along your abdomen.

Growing desperate you deepened the kiss. Your hands instinctively reach for her, moving from the hem of her shirt to tangle in her hair as you pull her closer. The magnitude of the moment was almost too much, feeling the desire consuming you from within.

Wanda's lips slid against yours with a fervent hunger. Her roving hands continued their journey, tracing every curve and contour of your torso with an almost reverent touch, sending pleasure coursing through your body. As your lips moved in perfect synchrony, heightening your senses, it left you yearning for more. The room was filled with a heady mix of desire and anticipation, as you both gave in to the draw of the moment..

Lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but give yourself completely to Wanda's touch. The way she explored every inch of your body with a delicate yet possessive hand left you breathless, craving more of her commanding aura. It was a dance of pleasure and surrender, a symphony of sensations that left you craving her touch like a drug. You had never needed anyone or anything as much as you needed Wanda to continue doing whatever she wanted to you.

As the kiss broke, both of you gasped for air. Wanda, still breathing heavily, leaned back to take in the sight of your newly revealed skin, her eyes darkening with want. Though never having been confident in your own body, often choosing to cover up, to hide in your self-consciousness, the way Wanda was looking at you now though left no doubt she liked what she saw. Yet still your insecurities plagued you, especially now that you were no longer covered up and there was nothing for you to hide behind.

The witch didn’t need to read your mind to know where your thoughts were going. The expression on your face, the way you tried to curl in on yourself made it plain. Voice thick with desire, Wanda needed to reassure you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Don’t ever let yourself believe otherwise.”

Though you didn’t truly believe her words, her tone and the way she held you like she couldn’t get enough was almost capable of convincing you in and of itself. You decided then that throwing yourself into this was the fastest way to get out of your head. Throwing caution to the wind, you slammed your lips against Wanda’s again, desperate for more of her.

Impatient, you couldn't resist the urge to guide Wanda's hands lower, craving for her to touch you more. Deft fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, sending a surge of pleasure  shooting through you, and tearing a quiet gasp from your mouth. Your body responded eagerly to her every caress, arching into her hands, silently begging for more. Emboldened by your response, Wanda's touch grew daring, her kisses to your neck pressing harder leaving red welts that would purple over by tomorrow. Her marks on you would tell all who you belonged to. Her fingers began exploring your body with a newfound confidence. The touch was both gentle and possessive, leaving you with the utter clarity that she wanted to mark every inch of you as her own, even the parts of you no one else would ever see.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, heavy with desire. Feeling the urgency building within you, your body pressed closer to Wanda's, seeking to ease some of the pressure within. Her touch was all at once overwhelming yet not enough.

Determined to elicit every delicious sound she could from you, one of Wanda's hands finally moved to your breast. Gently she cupped it while her thumb teased you by gliding around your areola, avoiding your hardened bud. She took great enjoyment in your whimpers and gasps as she teased you. If she had it her way, she would keep you like this, never giving you quite what you wanted. Wanda would ease you into that eventually though. For now, this was enough.

Eventually she had mercy on you, letting her thumb lightly graze across your nipple. A deep, throaty groan emanated from within you, your hips bucking against hers, unbidden. Taking the opportunity you had presented her with, Wanda slotted her knee between your thighs, applying firm pressure just where you needed it most. You whispered an exhaled curse as your head slumped forward onto the older woman’s shoulder. Your grip on her tightened, the urge to just rut against Wanda’s leg nearly overpowering what little was left of your rational mind.

Wanda could feel the subtle grinding of your hips against her leg, and she encouraged it, pressing harder each time you arched towards her. The witch grasped your hips firmly, helping to set your rhythm as you desperately sought more friction between the apex of your thighs.

For someone who hadn't even taken off their pants yet, you were surprisingly worked up, but you were far too focused on chasing your high to be overly concerned about it. Sensing how close you were, Wanda pulled away from you, calling forth a keening whine from you. The older woman chuckled softly at your desperation. Her raspy voice next to your ear made you shudder. 

"Patience, dorogoya, I don't want you to come just yet unless it's in my mouth or on my fingers."

Wholly unprepared for her words as you were, they almost single-handedly threatened to ruin the witch’s plans as you nearly came on the spot. Wanda was aware that you had likely never edged before, and while she should have shown some mercy, she found no enjoyment in that prospect. Her intention was to have you so drunk for her to the point where you would become a helpless, trembling wreck, willing to do anything she desired just to reach that peak. Then, she planned to repeatedly push you off that ledge so many times that you would be a boneless, quivering mess for her by the time she was done with you.

As her words hung in the air, you felt a mixture of anticipation and hesitation. This was a new territory for you, one that you weren't entirely sure of what you were getting into. But as you looked into Wanda's eyes, filled with desire and a touch of mischief, you couldn't deny your feelings. You wanted to experience everything she was willing to show you, to give yourself fully and trust in her to guide you through this journey of pleasure.

With a deep breath, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "I trust you, Wanda."

A smug smile played on Wanda's lips as she gently held your cheek. "Good," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "I promise you won't regret it. Now, let’s take this to the bed.” She didn’t want your first time together to be rutting up against a wall.

Wanda grasped your hand, leading you the remainder of the distance to your shared bed. Once there the witch assisted you in removing the remnants of your clothes, gently pushing you backwards onto the bed. Before joining you, she took a moment to admire your naked body, as you looked up at her with a combination of desire and excitement. You were uncertain of her intentions, but the fact that you were willing to trust her filled Wanda's heart with joy.

With a gaze that could only be described as ravenous, she studied you and quietly uttered a curse. "Fucking exquisite" she husked, hoping to drive home her words from earlier.

Squirming under her intense gaze, you blushed deeply at her compliment. No one had ever called you that before, not in your entire life. The longer you laid there, alone under her scrutiny, the greater your need for Wanda grew. Before you could ask her to rejoin you, she was already removing her own clothes with purpose. You waited with bated breath, as Wanda revealed her body which you swore could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Honestly, you thought it was a little unfair for someone to look so perfect. You felt absolutely privileged to be in this moment with her, that she had chosen you of all people to witness her glory. No one you had ever seen, in person or even on tv could compare. Wanda was a goddess, and you wanted to worship at her altar.

The redhead knew she was an attractive woman, but your loud thoughts were giving her quite the ego boost. She had you right where she wanted you, but Wanda would be damned if she allowed your self-deprecation to continue. There was not a single doubt in her mind that you were equally deserving to be here with her.

“Your thoughts are loud, malyshka.” She almost giggled at how red your face turned when she called you out, reminding you of her powers, and your gaze dropped.

 “While I’m flattered, darling, you need to know.” Wanda said with certainty as she began crawling up the bed towards you. Once she had crawled up the length of your body, the witch trailed her fingertips along your thigh, and up your torso to your face. Curling a graceful finger under your chin, she tilted your face upwards until you made eye contact.

“You are stunning, lyubov moya. There is no one else I would want to be here with right now. Not in the entire multiverse, believe me, I’ve looked. No one but you. Can you trust me on that, Y/N?”

Green eyes searched Y/E/C for any sign of lingering insecurity. With the witch looking at you so earnestly, your doubts faded into the background. They would likely never be completely silent, but in this moment, those thoughts were just white noise. Speaking was currently too difficult for you so instead you simply nodded at her words.

No longer able to hear your uncertainty as loudly, Wanda felt you were ready to continue. “Good, but just to make sure, I’m going to show you.”

Before you could ask what she meant, Wanda kissed you again. Her hand, which was previously under your chin, caressed down your chest and cupped your breast. She gave it a gentle squeeze, causing a soft sound to escape your throat.

As Wanda's touch re-ignited the flicker of pleasure within you, her lips and tongue traced a path of heated kisses down your neck, leaving a hot trail of saliva behind. Her skilled hand continued to explore your body, evoking an oeuvre of gasps and moans. Eventually, her lips settled on one of the places you desired the most, enveloping your nipple.

Once Wanda's lips closed around your hardened bud, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back in response. Her tongue teased and circled the sensitive bud, sending ecstasy pulsating through your veins. While Wanda continued to lavish attention on your aching nipple, her other hand trailed down your body, caressing and exploring every inch of your skin. The combination of her skilled touch and the intense pleasure coursing through your body made it difficult to think or focus on anything else. 

Her hand continued its exploration, gliding over your skin with a feather-light touch. Every brush of her fingertips, each flick of her tongue against you sent your arousal to new heights. Your senses were completely consumed by her, the world around you fading once again into a distant blur.

Completely at Wanda's mercy, you found yourself basking in her every touch and caress. The pleasure she was bestowing upon you was the best high you had ever felt, addictive and irresistible. Your mind was filled with a primal need, a craving for more of the pleasure that only she could provide.

Wanda switched breasts, moving to lavish attention on the other one ensuring it didn't feel neglected. Her hand continued to tease your flesh, raising goosebumps to form on your skin. 

Unable to sit still, your own hands came up to tangle themselves in the redhead’s hair. Head held firmly in place by you, Wanda's hand slid lower, exploring the wetness that had pooled between your thighs. Svelte fingers teased your entrance, and you gasped as the anticipation nearly undid you.  Back arched, begging for more, you whispered a “please!”

Helpless to deny your plea, Wanda's fingers dipped inside you, your slick allowing them to slide in with ease. You moaned lowly as she began to move her fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling and stroking against your most sensitive spots. The pleasure built within you, radiating through your body like an electric current.

Your hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer to you as your hips instinctively rocked against her hand, seeking deeper pleasure. Wanda matched your movements, her pace increasing, driving you closer to the edge. Her lips found yours once again, swallowing your moans as the pleasure consumed you.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the wet, almost obscene sound of her fingers moving inside you, and the symphony of your pleasure. Each stroke of her fingers sent you spiraling further into this rapturous euphoria, your body trembling with desire.

Lost in the carnality of the moment, you could feel the heat building within you, the pressure mounting until you were teetering on the edge. Sensing your imminent release, Wanda's fingers quickened their pace, driving you towards oblivion. Moans growing louder, they mingled with the sound of your ragged breaths.

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” She asked, voice dripping sweetly with lust, not letting up the pace even a little. The woman knew what she was doing to you, and couldn’t resist drawing it out just a bit. 

Beneath her, you squirmed and bucked in place, desperation eeking off you in waves. You hadn’t exactly had many partners to begin with, and you had certainly never been especially vocal with any of them. Wanda couldn't have you being all shy on her now though. She wanted to hear each and every sound she could possibly draw out of you as proof of how good she was making you feel, her fingers hitting that special spot deep inside of you that had always been just out of your own reach.

“Now dorogaya, use your words. Are you going to be a good girl and come for me? If you can’t answer me then I guess I should stop.” Wanda slowed her pace and you all but wailed your frustration.

“Yes, yes I’m going to come. I’m so close, Wands, please don’t stop!”

Truthfully that should have been enough for her but sadistically she wanted to push your boundaries further still. She smirked at your pleas. 

“I won’t stop, Y/N, but you can’t come until I give you permission.”

You didn’t think you had ever been on such a precipice of euphoria before. It was right there if only Wanda would let you. Part of you wanted to ignore what she said and let yourself go, but the part of you that yearned to be good for her won out in the end. 

You begged pitifully. “Please Wanda, please let me come! I’ll be your good girl, please, just let me come!” You would say anything the woman wanted as long as she would let you finally finish.

It was positively sinful how your submission made Wanda feel. She wanted to experience you like this every day for the rest of your lives. The tremor of your voice as you begged, how quickly and completely you accepted her commands, it was positively sublime.

“Well when you beg so prettily for me, how can I resist? Be a good girl, Y/N - come for me.” Her fingers curled deliciously, mercilessly hitting your new favorite spot. 

With Wanda’s permission, the world shattered around you as your orgasm crashed over. Your body convulsed with exquisite hedonism, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Wanda's name were the only words from your mouth as you rode the high, your orgasm careening over you in a tidal wave of pleasure.

For Wanda, feeling your wet heat tighten around her fingers, practically refusing to allow her to pull back to even help you through your peak, was so perfect. You didn’t know it, but it was enough to make Wanda topple over the edge alongside you, her head dropping to the crook of your neck while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, struggling to bring you gently down from your high. 

As the aftershocks of your release subsided, Wanda gently withdrew her fingers, her touch lingering for a moment before she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. She held you close, her presence a comforting anchor as you came down from the heights of pleasure. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness after being so joyously full.

Breathless and sated, you nestled into her embrace, feeling a profound sense of contentment and connection. And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt that this was just the beginning of something beautiful between you both. You had made the decision to trust Wanda with your body, heart, and soul, and in this moment, everything felt so right.

Wanting to return the favor, and make Wanda feel as good as you did, but as you tried to shift in her embrace, the former avenger simply held you tighter. Feeling rejected, you wilted in her arms. Perhaps you had already failed to live up to her expectations, so much so that she didn’t even want you to touch her. How heartbreaking to have failed so soon, to never get the chance to prove yourself.

Voice soft, Wanda alleviates your fears. “Not tonight, darling. Tonight was all about you. Rest with me for a little while, detka, I just want to hold you. May I do that, Y/N?”

Murmuring a quiet assent, you settled into the comfort Wanda provided. You both laid there, basking in the intimacy you both had just shared, feeling content and happy. It wasn’t long until your eyes began to droop, signifying you were about to nod off.

Sensing how close you were to sleep, the witch gently roused you. She giggled at your grumblings for the disruption but insisted you both needed to clean up. Shaking your head, you whined as you tried to hold her in place with you, unwilling to let her go for any reason. Wanda  had to actively restrain herself from cooing at your adorable stubbornness.

“Come on now, it’ll be just a few minutes and then we can go back to sleep, okay darling?”

Petulantly you shook your head, and Wanda full on belly laughed, holding you tightly to her while she did so. Her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as well, knowing you were being a bit ridiculous.

Eventually, both of you calmed down, and Wanda pulled away from your embrace, mentioning that she would be right back. You let her go, but you pouted the entire time she was in the bathroom. After a few moments, you could hear the sink running, and then the witch returned to you with a warm, damp washcloth in her hand. With an unprecedented level of care, Wanda cleaned between your legs, removing any trace of the night's activities, while being mindful not to overstimulate you.

“There we go, detka. All clean. Let me just throw this in the sink, and we can go to sleep.”

Doing exactly as she had said, Wanda quickly returned, swiftly maneuvering her way into the cozy bed beside you. With a few gentle movements, she skillfully arranged the soft sheets to envelop both of you, creating a warm and comfortable cocoon.

Once she was finished setting up the sheets, you wasted no time in crawling back into her arms, burying your face into the divot where her neck and shoulder met. You felt like you had been through the wringer, but in the best way. When she had gotten up to clean you both, with her no longer being in your arms, your emotions had run all over the place. Now all you wanted was to be as physically close to the redhead as possible, to reassure yourself that she wasn’t abandoning you after such a vulnerable act.

Wanda was not at all opposed. Quite thrilled in fact, and as she held you, one hand came to gingerly trace random shapes along the side of your face, whispering nonsensical words of love and solace. Pillowy lips placed a soft kiss to your forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, feeling safer and happier than in your entire life, you heard Wanda whisper in her native tongue. You were curious, but too far gone to ask her what she meant.

“я так люблю тебя, дорогая. (I love you so much, darling.) I promise I will always keep you safe, and I will never let you go.”

A/N 2: ... Why do I have a higher word count for a chapter with smut than any other chapter? .... Reasons. We're going with "reasons". So uhhh... yay? nay? Yeet myself off a cliff? Also if anyone wants to be added to the taglist just lemme know in the comments.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[treacheryinblue]

Chapter 2/4

A Noah Sebastian x F!Reader One Shot Series

Word Count: 7.1k

Masterlist

× Summary: Noah is Death, the ruler of the after life (or whatever you want to call it), though he is cursed to watch you come and go from his never ending existence time and time again.

× Warnings!: Eh-level smut (oral [f receiving], P in V obviously, touch of spanking), language, little bit of violence, tiny fluff if you squint, slight dom!noah, smut with plot aka this became more in depth than I meant for it to aka a one shot that's now a series. Let me know if I missed anything!

× Author's Notes: ( 1 ) Thank you sooo much for all the support this story has been given. It was never was supposed to be more than a one shot, but after all the excitement behind it, I've decided to make it into a short series! I'm going to try to keep it at four parts, just to show the lore behind the characters and also maybe why it's happening...if I can make my brain create such things. ( 2 ) PLEASE suspend all thoughts of how time works when reading this. Time is pretty much just NOT a thing in Noah's realm. It's nonlinear and I refuse to be tied down by it! Also, hopefully the context clues are obvious enough for people to pick up on what time period the female character is from in each chapter. If not, feel free to hit me with a question.

Happy reading! xoxo

“The Dark Lord will be pleased with this one.” 

An unknown voice sounded out around you, immediately sending a chill down your spine. You heard yourself expel a whimper of fear as your hands responded by trembling in their bindings. The man must've noticed this because a sadistic sounding laugh rang out, echoing through wherever you were and reverberating in your ears. 

How long had you been tied down to this slab of rock? It easily could've only been hours, though it felt like days. Weeks. An eternity. Nothing felt longer than waiting for your impending death. 

“Please…” you pleaded in a soft and broken voice. “Let me go and I will make sure no harm comes of you.” 

The men again cackled, the kind that you were sure had them gripping their bellies and arching back. Maybe it was a good thing you couldn't see their dirty faces and broken teeth taunting you. That would never be the last thing you'd want anyone to have to witness before their untimely demise. 

“The blade. Now.”

Something cool pressed to your chest and immediately forced a slight gasp out of you. Again, you began to tear up and pull at your restraints, although you had no idea what you would do if you happened to free yourself. The noises you had picked up on told you that there were more than two people there, and after so long without food or water, you'd never be able to take them. You were doomed one way or the other. 

As the blade traveled downwards, it was made to puncture and rip the bodice of your dress. Another set of hands tugged the thin fabric to further open it, revealing your bare torso beneath it. 

“Please! Don't do this!” You cried, now feeling shame from being so exposed. 

How horrible was it that you were briefly only concerned about what your mother and father would say of this? They'd scold you, hissing words of how it wasn't very ‘lady like’ and that ‘no man would want you now’. You would be the ‘shamed whore’ of your village. 

Before those thoughts could lead with any traction, the sound of faint chanting snapped you from your own thoughts. It started as a whispering and ever so slowly began working its way higher and higher with every repeated line. Unfortunately, you couldn't make out any of the words. It was possible that it was in another language, though also likely that your sobs took the forefront of the focus. 

As the volume grew, so did your fear. Your breathing was rapid and uneven, a cool sweat forming across your chest and along the back of your neck. It was not being able to see what was happening that was also truly terrifying. Your captors had blind folded you after securing you down, this being the last time you saw any of their faces. It had been days of darkness - if not longer. 

The chanting had started increasing in pace. Voices roared all around you and you could sense someone probably just within your reach (had your hands been free) but they had yet to do or say anything. You sobbed beneath your blindfold, the ropes holding you down rubbing your poor wrists raw from how you had been desperately trying to pull them free. They burned with every motion, and you were sure blood had been coating them since day one. Not that anyone around cared enough to take note. 

“Please!” You yelled again, the single worded plea broken from your constant waterfall of tears. You swore you even heard another chuckle from right beside you. 

“Send our love to the Dark Lord.” 

A fierce pain punctuated his final statement as the blade ripped through your chest. You screamed in terror, just for the blade to be retrieved and then forced through skin, muscle, bone, again and again until you were nothing but a husk of who you had once been. 

× × ×

Piercing eyes stared at you from across the long table, silently watching every move you made, no matter how small. You could feel the weight of his gaze despite having told him before how uncomfortable it made you - this had shocked him into a brief silence - but it obviously hadn't been important enough information for him to retain. 

As you reached for your glass of wine, he did the same. His motions mirrored yours when you both took a swallow from the glass, followed by another, then another - the third being a mere test to see if he would or not. 

“Stop.” 

The demand left you with an irritated sigh, your wine glass then being loudly placed back to the table top. He chose to do the opposite, instead opting to lightly set his own glass down in a more respectable manner. 

“Stop what?” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, lips pressed tight together to showcase to him just how completely and utterly annoying he was. Ever since your arrival, he had done nothing but get under your skin day after day, night after night, second after second. 

Maybe you really were in Hell. 

“I'm going back to my quarters.” 

You weren't going to do this with him again. It had become an every encounter sort of thing at this point - both of you engaging in an argument until you finally stomped off or he dismissed you before you ‘fell victim to his true nature’. How in the world were you supposed to live like this? For how long? Every time you’d yell this inquiry at him, he would only smile like he knew a secret you didn't. 

Dropping your napkin to your plate, you were just about to push away from the table when his voice halted your every movement. 

“Sit back down now. I haven't excused you.” 

There was a sternness to his demand that you had yet to hear from him prior. It shook you to your core…in a way you hadn't expected. 

There was a brief pause as you stared at him. You were silently debating with yourself as to whether or not you should listen, weighing the options. Since you had nowhere to go where he couldn't find you, you did as he requested. 

“Maybe I've gone about this the wrong way. Maybe I've been too nice. Too lenient. Too patient. Since those approaches don't appear to be working, we're going to switch up to the way I prefer things.” 

The man you knew as Noah slowly stood from his chair. Those eyes of his never broke from yours, not even as he placed his palms on the table top and leaned forward a bit to assert only an ounce of his dominance. You wanted to say it didn't make you want to cower in a corner, but it did. 

Or maybe take your clothes off…

“You are here in my domain. Do you know what that means?” 

Noah's eyebrows raised when he paused, though you knew he wasn't looking for an answer. He already had one of his own loaded and ready to go. 

“It means I'm the fucking King and it would be in your best interest to not disobey me.”

You thought it would end there. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. 

But wait…what was this new sensation you were beginning to feel? It was warm and tingly…quite different from any you had experienced before, both when dead or alive. 

“It doesn't matter to me that it's you. You are still required to make sure I remain pleased.” 

This caught your curiosity and it showed in the way your own brows pulled together ever so slightly. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that you listen to m-”

“No, the first part.” 

You could see the way his features softened when he realized what he had said. Was this one of those secrets he always seemed to be keeping from you? Obviously. The issue was that you had no clue what it meant. 

“For the love of Go-!” Noah paused before he could get the entire saying out, his jaw clenching and face reddening as if it would truly pain him to say the words. With a deep exhale through his nose, he stood to his full height and raked his fingers roughly through his hair. He was frustrated, though something told you that it wasn't all because of your defiant behavior. 

The anger he held was bubbling to the surface and forcing him to lose his composure. He growled as he latched onto the chair and sent it hurling to the ground, followed by the glass of wine he had previously been nursing. Both became shattered pieces that would be impossible to repair. 

“Why do you not remember yet?! Is this some cruel joke you're playing on me? Is that it?!” 

Before you could even blink he was in front of you. He had forced your chair out a bit, enough for him to wedge himself in front of it to prevent you from escaping. His tattooed hands firmly grasped at the arms of the chair, intense eyes level with your own. 

You weren't frightened of him. You had endured the wrath of more vile men many times in the past, your father being one of them, so this temper tantrum of his did not register as a threat. 

Plus, you were already dead. What more could he do to you? 

“I need you to remember.” 

These words were spoken in a much softer tone, almost like he was begging you. Pleading. The pain was clear in his eyes and for some reason this hurt you as well. Why did you care about his feelings? Why did you want to make him feel better? Never during any of your previous altercations had you felt this way. 

“I'm sorry…I don't know how…I don't understand…”

Noah appeared crushed. You swore you could hear the sound of his heart breaking; that's how deep his emotions ran along his features. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his head bowed to keep his face hidden. The hands that had once been gripping the arms of the chair fell to your covered knees, now grasping tight to you in any way he could. 

“Please…try for me? There's a part of you that would do anything for me, just as I would do for you.” 

Although his words continued to confuse you, they didn't disturb you or make you uncomfortable as they previously had. There was even a fraction of you that believed him…which only made you want to try as he was requesting. 

Maybe he could sense this, because you felt one of his hands fall and begin lightly tracing along your ankle. The other remained on your knee, still clutching tight. 

“Close your eyes…will yourself to remember…I know you can.” 

There was a flicker of something behind your closed eyes, almost like a thought. Maybe a memory. You weren't too sure because the scene clip was foreign and not anything you had ever experienced in your living life. All that was familiar within the abrupt flash were his eyes and the way they devoured you. 

“That…what was that?” 

Noah’s hand cradled your cheek, his touch immediately causing you to open your eyes and connect with his own. There was now a hopeful gleam within them, so much that you swore you even saw his lips threatening to turn up into a smile. 

“Did you remember something? Tell me.”

All you could do was slowly shake your head. Even if you wanted to tell him what the brief image had been, you knew you wouldn't be able to put it into words. It was like trying to describe a color to someone that they would never see for themselves. An impossible task to say the least. 

Without another word, you quickly pushed him away from you and stood from your chair. Noah was stunned by your actions but made no move to stop you from running away, not like you had expected him to. As you exited the dining room, all you heard behind you was the sound of more glass breaking and Noah’s pained yells. 

× × ×

Sleep eventually took over you that night, though it hadn't come easy. To bring forth this needed unconsciousness, you had to think of the images from earlier and imagine what scenario it was attached to. 

It took place in an unknown room, though you could assume this room was in the same domain you currently were held in. The decor was the same, the walls and lighting giving this away. It wasn't your current room, though, but somewhere a little more lived in. It was comfortable, if you were being honest. Almost as comfortable as the bed you were laid out over in this flash of images. 

There was a warmth that accompanied them, one that you were only barely accustomed to. You had experienced it before during your living existence when you had hiked your dress up to your hips and buried your fingers between your thighs - these moments were fleeting and only happened enough times for you to count on one hand. 

Although, it wasn't your hands that brought forth the unfamiliar but welcomed warmth this time, but something - someone - far more enticing. 

A pleasure radiated throughout your entire being in a way that had your body trembling and your voice crying out for more. You had managed to open your eyes long enough to see his head between your spread thighs, decorated fingers holding tight to you to make sure you remained fully open for him, all while his mouth worked wonders in ways you didn't know possible. 

“Noah!” You moaned and whimpered, his name on your lips only sending him into an excited frenzy. He groaned into you as his mouth secured around your clit, harshly sucking before soothing the nerves with swipes of his tongue that made your hips buck and your cunt clench in a desperate need to be filled. 

“You're so perfect…” he breathed as he pulled back just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. The sensation was heavenly, as ironic as that was, even more so when his long digits dipped and curled within your dripping wet warmth. Noah stroked along a spot that immediately had you gasping for air and gripping tight to the already tangled sheets your body had become well acquainted with. The mess of linens told you that you had been at this for a bit now, and it definitely wasn't his first time admiring you from below. 

“Don't stop, please…” you begged, soft and gentle between your labored breathing. 

Noah happily obliged, not that he had any plans on stopping until he was thoroughly satisfied with your amount of pleasure. His wicked mouth returned to your clit, tongue swirling and flicking in a way only the Devil could know how, while his fingers assisted in bringing you right to the edge. 

If this was eternal damnation, then you would willingly devote the rest of your existence to it, to him. 

Just a couple more firm strokes of his fingers and your body was tensing, a pressure building so high that it literally felt as if you were going to explode. And almost as soon as the thought passed your mind, your body released - literally and metaphorically. Moans heaved from you and your hips writhed beneath Noah’s form, a sudden wave of pure heat traveling through you and coating his fingers. The bed became soaked, though Noah seemed less than concerned about this. He hadn't even let up on pulling your clit between his lips and forcing his fingers harder within the collapsing and pulsing walls of your cunt. 

You awoke from your slumber with a gasp, your body abruptly sitting up in bed. It took a moment for you to gather yourself, but you eventually noticed that you were alone and no longer in the room from your…dream? Memory? It was still so hard to say. As you made a motion to move, you felt a throb between your thighs, a deep pulsing just like the one your subconscious had just been experiencing. 

You thought nothing of it at first, not until you stood from the bed only to realize the sheets, as well as your clothing, held a wet spot right where one could assume. 

It only took a moment for you to change, though you left yourself bare beneath the sleeping gown with not even the top tied securely. There was no reason for you to waste time with it when there was one thing on your mind now. 

After a few wrong turns and having to backtrack more than you'd like to admit, you finally stumbled upon the study where you knew Noah to spend the majority of his time. Sometimes you swore this domain liked to purposely switch up and change on you, just to make finding your intended location all the more difficult. 

“Stop lingering,” his voice called out after you had stood outside the cracked door for far too long. 

A small jolt in response to his voice being directed to you caused your heart to skip a beat, though you did as he said and gently pushed the study door open enough for you to slip through. 

“How did you kno-”

“Nothing happens here without my knowledge of it. No matter how small or…private.”

That's when his eyes lifted to meet with you, they focused in on your hips first before slowly trailing up to your own gaze. Something gleamed within his stare, but it wasn't something you were yet capable of putting your finger on. All you knew was that it further stirred a sensation inside you. 

“It's late,” Noah then pointed out as he leaned back in his chair, sights still locked on you. 

You nodded in understanding, slow steps being taken closer to the desk he resided behind. Instead of stopping in front of it, you moved around the side and only paused once you were in front of him, just within arm’s reach. You could see Noah's chest inflate with a deep inhale, his eyes further darkening at the close proximity. Had his gaze even flickered down to where your hardened nipples were evident beneath the thin fabric of the dress you wore? You swore they had. 

Speaking of your clothing…it was drastically different from what Noah always wore. His black on black suit wasn't like anything you were used to seeing, though your clothes were reminiscent of your time, unchanging from what you knew. How odd, you thought to yourself. This wasn't the time to ponder such things, though. It was just one more mystery added to the collection you were keeping note of. 

“I had a dream,” you finally revealed. A hand hesitantly reached out so you could trail a finger slowly beneath his jaw, a simultaneous step closer to him also being taken. “At least…I think it was only a dream.”

“A memory, perhaps.” Noah spoke up, his eyebrows raised. 

“Perhaps.” Your hand fell from his face and you swore you noticed a sadness quickly glaze over his eyes, almost as if he missed your touch already. Lucky for him, you had no intention of keeping your hands to yourself right then. 

Delicate fingers clutched the fabric that covered your body, now being pulled up just enough so you could freely move while settling into Noah’s lap. Your knees straddled him and his hands moved to lay atop the bare skin of your thighs, almost like a reflex. 

“Tell me what you remember.” 

A slight shrug of your shoulder caused the gown to fall away, revealing more of your skin to him. His eyes followed the trail of your neck down your shoulder and to your chest, just as he reached up to further tug the fabric away in a gentle manner until the swell of your breasts were shown. 

Noah had learned forward so he could slowly kiss along the bared skin of your chest. His hands traveled up the sides of your thighs, purposely pushing the hem of the dress up more, but not fully. He was then gripping your waist, slyly pulling your body even closer to his while his lips dipped between the valley of your breasts. 

“It's mainly feelings that I remember, not necessarily specific moments…” 

A question lingered at the tip of your tongue, one that you weren't really sure the meaning of. It was merely plaguing the back of your mind, leaving you curious for an answer that could possibly mean absolutely nothing to you. 

“How…many times have I been here?” 

The inquiry caused Noah to pause, his eyes flickering up to yours before he relayed an answer. 

“This makes five. Five lives…five versions of you…and this you by far has been the most stubborn.” 

This knowledge didn't frighten you like it would have mere hours ago. No, it actually made a bit of sense now, like the puzzle pieces were all slowly starting to come together. 

“And each one is me?” 

Noah hummed lightly, his lips returning to their trek along your chest. He was being much softer with you than you would've imagined, especially given the outburst you had witnessed from him earlier. 

“Same body, same eyes, same markings…” he punctuated this with a slight bite to a prominent freckle that sat off to the side of your right breast. “Even the same name.”

“So…where are all of the previous versions of me at?” 

A heavy sigh followed your question, his jaw clenched in obvious frustration. Having not yet answered, Noah swiftly picked you up and laid you down atop his desk after swiping the unnecessary items aside. There was a darkness in his eyes again, and you noticed that his previous soft caresses were becoming much more defined and needy. Witnessing this had your insides stirring, but in a way that made you thankful for wearing nothing more than your sleep gown. 

“You’ve been taken from me.” 

Noah’s voice was harsh, the words almost being hissed through gritted teeth. Apparently you had touched on a sore subject without even realizing it. But still, he began undressing himself as you laid beneath him, vulnerable and aching. Not even his growing anger was going to stop him from having you. 

With his torso now bared to you, you took a moment to take in all of the permanent etchings that crowded his skin. You had never seen such things before, though you've heard tales of tattoos and these being described as the ‘mark of the Devil’. Clearly your time wasn't too far off, considering who you were currently in the company of.

A hand grabbed your face and forced you to look up at him as his body hovered over your own. Noah’s eyes were as intense as ever as he searched within yours, on a hunt for something. 

“You aren't meant for this world but you are mine. I'll see to it that every death brings you to me. They can't stop me.”

They? 

There was no chance for you to inquire about this because Noah’s mouth was then on yours, all hot and desperate. He kissed you like his life depended on it - funny enough - like you were the only thing that could breathe oxygen back into his lungs. And much to your own surprise, you kissed him back with just as much ferocity. His taste was addicting and familiar, one that you wanted to hold onto for as long as you could. 

Even as he pulled back, you swiped your tongue along your lower lip simply to savor what remained. 

One strong pull was all it took for Noah to rip the gown you wore straight down the middle, his eyes immediately drinking you in. He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against your heated skin while flicking his tongue along the hardened bud before sinking his teeth in. You gasped at the slight pain, but the rise of your hips to grind against his let him know that you actually enjoyed it. 

Noah smirked as he moved to your opposite nipple, displaying the same loving abuse to it. A warmth was pooling between your thighs and you were suddenly so eager for his touch that you didn't know what to do with yourself. Your hips continued to grind along his, desperate to feel any sort of relief, but the material of his pants were too soft and not at all what you were aching for. 

“Not so defiant now, are you?” He taunted, his clothed hips firmly pressing into yours just to further rile you up. 

“Look at you…desperate and whining…you must be remembering how good I can make you feel.”

Indeed you were, because never have you felt a need as strong as this before. Something in you knew just how mind blowing a climax at his hands could be and you wanted it now. You were so caught up in your own selfish needs that you hadn't even heard the sound of his belt coming off or the distinct ripple of the zipper being dragged down. When your eyes met with him again, he was fully naked and standing between your legs, slowly stroking along every inch of his hard cock. 

“Fuck…the things you do to me,” he murmured to himself, heavily exhaling through his nose. You watched in awe as he continued to touch himself, his hips pushing forward to thrust into his hand, even as he rubbed the head of his cock down between your folds. Noah’s eyes closed and his head tossed back, reveling in the sensation of you being so wet for only him. 

“Please…” you whimpered, your legs spreading more as if that would help entice him in. As much as you liked watching him get himself off, surprisingly enough, you were far too needy in that moment to have any bit of his stamina wasted on his hand. 

Releasing the hold he had on his cock, he instead grabbed your calf and lifted your leg to his shoulder. His strong hands now held your hips, the tip of his cock pressed right to your entrance since he had produced the perfect angle after maneuvering your body around however he saw fit. 

“You have to be a good girl and take it,” he instructed, his voice soothing but still holding an edge to it. 

Noah pressed forward, allowing only the swollen head of his cock to stretch through your tight walls that hugged him just as close as he remembered. 

“Say it.” He demanded, refusing to go any further until you had. 

You shakily breathed out, your heart racing and blood pumping so fast that your cheeks were flushed a deep red already. “I'll be a good girl,” you repeated his words, nodding. “I'll take it, I promise.”

Happy with this, Noah thrusted forward in a swift motion that you had taking every inch he had to offer. Your tight pussy welcomed him into your depths with a constricting pulse that would've made him cum right then had he not had an eternity of practiced self control. 

Noah deeply groaned, his jaw set and biceps flexed while holding you in place. Your own moans mixed with his, your body trembling in his grasp from just how intense it was to be fully filled by him. It was like nothing you had ever felt before…quite literally since your living existence had yet to experience the touch of another. You had only known a release at your own hands, which was nothing compared to this. 

“That's it…” he cooed the familiar phrase as he began his rapid pace of driving his cock deep into you again and again, forcing moans and profanities never yet spoken from you each time. “You're always so good at taking it.” 

Oh, how you wanted nothing more than to take all that he had to offer. 

The stretch of your walls were so tight around him that you swore you could feel every engorged vein throbbing when he forced himself as deep as possible. Noah turned his head so he could kiss along your ankle, the grip he had on your calf tightening just before leaning forward a bit. It was a good thing you were pretty limber or else a cramp would've surely ruined the mood by now. Noah didn't seem concerned about this, though. He was far too focused on the shape of your lips as you cried out his name. 

This angle had to have been created by this Devil himself though, because you could barely take a breath from how overpowering it was. You looked up at him with furrowed brows and nothing but silence as your breath caught in your throat. Every inch of your body tensed, though this had yet to cease his quickening thrusts. Your cunt felt too good, too warm, too tight, for him to let up now. 

“Noah!” His name finally erupted from you again, just as an unexpected orgasm took charge. Your head tossed back and your hips arched up as much as possible, your pussy now gripping his cock like a vice. Your walls were so strong that you noticed he was finally beginning to break a sweat. 

As the climax shook through your body, his motions began to slow before coming to a complete halt. He stared down at you, a fire in his eyes. 

“Did I say you could cum?” The question was punctuated with a firm spank to the side of your thigh, a sting radiating outwards that you knew you'd be feeling for some time afterwards. 

“Hadn't I just told you that you're meant to listen to me? That I'm the King and you do as I say?” 

Noah had shifted your leg off his shoulder and pulled his hips back until he was no longer inside of you. The loss of connection made you whine and pout because one orgasm hadn't been enough. You desperately needed more. 

“I couldn't stop it,” you explained while he forced you up, around, and then back down so the front of your body was pressed to the desk. 

“You promised you were going to be a good girl.” 

There was a bit of rustling from behind you, followed by the faint clink of metal that you recognized from his belt when he had been removing it not long ago. Your thighs pressed together in anticipation for whatever he had planned for you now since you knew that fleeting moment of softness from him was long gone. 

“But good girls ask before they cum, and you didn't ask.” The sound of something moving quickly through the air garnered your attention, but a mere second later a sharp sting forced a yelp from you when the folded edge of his belt made contact with your ass. The pain shot right to your core, your cunt clenching eagerly around nothing. 

Another crack rang out when the belt again collided with your tender ass cheek. You whimpered and writhed, your hands desperately trying to grab onto something to steady yourself but there was nothing within reach on the desk. While it did hurt, and the pain only worsened with each spank, you still couldn't help but to crave more. Maybe it was because Noah was now rubbing his palm soothingly over the red and welted area, or maybe it was because you liked allowing him this power over you. 

You held a power of your own over him as well, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Although now may have not been the time to bring that up. 

“Look at how fucking wet you're getting from this,” he mused gleefully as his fingers dipped down to brush along your pussy. He gathered the wetness around his fingertips after sinking his digits into you, though he only graced you with a couple of pumps before their retreat. 

Noah leaned over your body so his mouth was at your ear, his wet fingers forcing their way between your lips for you to obediently clean. Which you did without hesitation or complaint, even going so far as to moan softly at the taste of yourself. 

“Now, are you going to be my good girl or do I need to punish you a bit more?” He whispered into your ear while lightly brushing your hair back from your face. 

You could feel his hard cock between your thighs, teasing you with what you so badly wanted again. This assisted in you making up your mind, despite how much you enjoyed the punishment given. 

“I'll be your good girl,” you promised once his fingers were pulled from your mouth. 

Noah circled his strong hand around your jaw before placing a firm kiss to the side of your head. “That was the correct answer.” 

Gently forcing your body back around to face his, he was careful to then set you on the edge of the desk. You winced at the weight being placed on your abused bottom, and it was only intensified when Noah purposely grasped the exact area, fingertips digging into the welts. There was no room for true pain when it was quickly overpowered by the euphoric sensation of him thrusting into you again. 

Christ, if you weren't already dead then this man surely would've been the death of you. 

Both hands squeezed your hips as he helped drag you along his cock, maneuvering your body in just the right way so he was hitting every spot inside of you that had you gasping for air. Your mind was occupied solely with thoughts of him, especially when taking in how he was gazing at you. It didn't matter that bits of his hair clung to his forehead with sweat or that you could barely take a breath without demanding that he fuck you harder, because Noah was still staring at you like you were the only thing in this entire melancholic universe that mattered. 

“You're fucking amazing,” he grunted just as he pushed against your chest to lay you back on the desk again. This allowed him free reign to drive his cock at a maddening pace into your depths, his thrusts relentless to what your mere mortal body could handle. 

Did it matter since you were already dead, though? Were you technically a mortal still? So many questions. 

Your noises of ecstasy echoed through the study as your cunt throbbed around his twitching cock. The way Noah’s hips began to slow until he was taking long drags out of you, only to roughly thrust forward again, told you that he was close. You weren't sure how you knew, but you did. Just as you somehow knew other things little that would make him tick - both in good and bad ways. 

“You look so beautiful like this.”

You couldn't help but to smile through your delightful torment, your body already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all of the other things Noah had made you feel that night. From his unmatched stamina, so you could assume, to the pain of his belt across your ass that made your cunt clamp tighter around his cock just from thinking about it. 

Noah must've noticed because he released a deep growl from his chest, his head now bowed and eyes closed as he continued his unforgiving thrusts. 

“Oh!” You gasped the moment his palm pressed against your lower stomach and his thumb made contact with your clit. Your hips jerked and your thighs threatened to close, but his grip on the one only tightened to a harsh squeeze to keep you perfectly spread for him. 

“You have to ask.” Noah reminded you, since he was well aware of what your reactions were pointing to. 

Your eyes rolled back and your teeth sunk deep into your lower lip, breathless moans escaping one after the other, making it nearly impossible for you to say much of anything. 

“Please!” You finally were able to pant out, a faint whine to follow. “Can I cum? Please?” 

Noah smirked at your obedience. The sound of your begging only made him drive harder into your core, his thumb still working against your overly sensitive clit. 

“Please please please,” the pleading continued in a faint whisper, this being all you could manage out now in a little chant of desperation. 

Instead of voicing his approval, he merely gave a single nod just before planting both of his hands on the desk near your head. He was leaning over you now, his hips violently colliding with yours. Dark eyes focused down on your face and you immediately knew he wanted to watch up close as you fell apart for him again. 

Your hands ran up his sides and back to clutch his shoulder blades, nails sinking harshly into his inked skin the moment your climax took over. Every inch of your body spasmed beneath his, your knees digging into his hips and nails dragging down his back in a way that made him sharply inhale in an almost hiss. 

“Oh my go-!” The cry was nearly completed when his hand covered your mouth, preventing you from voicing the final word. Though this didn't stop you from moaning in a continuous yet muffled fashion as a wave rushed through your body and your cunt hungrily tried dragging in more of his cock. 

“Fuck, you're doing so good,” he murmured in a low tone that had your insides melting and your orgasm freely flowing around him. “Fucking hell!”

Noah groaned as his thrusts became a little more sloppy before a final drive forward had him pausing as deep as possible inside of you. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed as he erupted, the vein in the side of his neck now more prominent. You couldn't help but to crane your neck forward just a bit in order to sink your teeth into it, bringing forth a moan from him directly into your ear. 

Shivers traveled your body from the overly full feeling of him cumming inside of you and filling you to the brim, his arousal mixing with your own and overflowing. Still, your cunt continued to pulse and flutter around his cock, emptying him for all that he was worth. Your hips even rolled up into his again, purposely working yourself along his length simply because you could and because it felt so fucking good to have him stroking your g-spot, no matter how sensitive and spent your body was. 

“I told you I could be a good girl,” you breathed against his neck while trailing your lips up in search of his. Noah chuckled into the kiss you eventually indulged him with, his brow finally relaxing now that you had stopped grinding into him and he could properly think. 

Lifting his head after you parted from the kiss, he gazed down at you to admire how beautiful you looked with your cheeks flushed and a post-sex glow setting in. It was the first time he had seen you appear genuinely happy since your arrival, and while he of course wanted your body again and again, he also wanted to see that as often as he could. 

“Don't think I've forgotten about how you acted at dinner.” His tone was serious only for a fleeting moment. Your eyes widened slightly, the welt on your ass pulsating as if to remind you of the punishments he could make you endure. 

Noah cracked a faint grin before dragging his hand along the side of your face and claiming your lips once again. He was then standing to his full height and carefully pulling you to a sitting position along with him, where he slowly pulled himself out from your drenched core. A faint whimper escaped you, though you quickly covered it with a bite to your inner cheek. 

“No need to worry about that now. I'll let you know when I'm coming to collect for your defiant behavior.”  

Well, that surely made your pussy clench in eager anticipation. 

Flexing and rolling his shoulders back, he muttered something about giving him a second and then scurried off, but not before making a quick turn back to kiss you again. As he disappeared, you took this moment to glance around the study. It was one of the many rooms you hadn't really been in before, Noah's bedroom included, because you always felt they were too personal for you to see. 

And much to your own shock, Noah never entered your room either. At least you knew he could respect boundaries to a degree. But now? Well, now you weren't so sure what sort of boundaries remained for you two. 

Taking in a deep breath, you lifted a hand to gently massage into the back of your neck, just as your eyes swept across the large bookcase that lined one side of the room. Something on one of the shelves immediately acquired your attention: a knife of sorts, a dagger, with rubies embedded in the handle. There was something very familiar about it, so much so that you found yourself slipping from the desk to make your way over to where it was displayed. 

“I wasn't sure if you wanted to remain in the clothes you're used to, so I brought that and another option…” his voice grew quieter as it trailed off upon realization that you were no longer on the desk. 

Noah's returning presence couldn't pry your eyes away from the dagger, nor could his soft demand for you to tell him what you were doing. Instead, you reached out to lightly trace along the sheath the dagger was housed in before ultimately picking it up and pulling it from the enclosure. 

“What is this?” 

Noah was by your side within seconds, his hand reaching for the item though you made an abrupt turn to step away from him. 

“I need you to give me the dagger now…please. Then, maybe, we can discuss just what it is.”

There was a churning in your stomach and your heart was now beating so loud that you could hear it thumping within your ears. You recognized this dagger despite having only seen it for a few seconds after your captors all but dragged you to your death. A multitude of memories flashed before your sights of this dagger in particular, although in many different scenarios and situations.

Your eyes were pooling with tears as you finally looked up at him, both confusion and hurt written all across your face. It appeared as if Noah wanted to say something but he remained silent, his hand still outstretched like you were actually going to hand the item over to him. 

“This was what was used to kill me, Noah. More than once. Why do you have it?”

[ivystoryweaver]

Based on this request by @whatthefishh: “are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop” + Steven Grant 🙈❤️

next | miniseries masterlist | my masterlist

In which you are a simpering mess for this adorkable man

Content: f!reader, Part 1: fluff, pining, bit suggestive, not beta'd - Part 1 can stand on its own, you do not have to read part 2 if you only want fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Steven Grant is something else.

Apparently, he vandalized the toilets in the Egyptian wing of the museum.

And got sacked.

Disappeared for a month.

And is now in your office, asking for his job back.

He has some nerve.

The thing of it is, you feel for him.

That is to say, you feel badly for him. You also feel other things for him. Such as attraction. Really intense attraction.

Which is not okay, seeing how he is several steps below your pay grade, begging for your mercy (ahem, professionally) and you cannot show any favoritism in hiring...or re-hiring, in this case.

"I'll get on my knees and beg, if it helps," he lets out a jovial little laugh, his dark curls rustling against his forehead.

That sentence would have sounded absolutely pathetic coming out of any other man's mouth. But Steven Grant is something else. You almost ask him to repeat himself just to hear it again.

"You see...it's just that you're the only one who's ever really been kind to me," he earnestly explains, leaning toward your desk, elbows resting on his knees.

Dark eyebrows shift back and forth - his brown eyes wide and pleading.

"And...well, I'd hate to take advantage of your kindness - "

Please. Please take advantage. Ugh, your intrusive thoughts are not welcome at this meeting.

"But I'd thought you'd be most likely to listen - you see, I have a disorder - "

"Sleeping disorder, right?" You interrupt, glancing down at his file. As if you need his file. You remember every word he's ever said. One time, he inadvertently let it slip that he used an ankle restraint and that just sent you...

"Oh, that? Eh..." He chuckles nervously, straightening up and scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

This is the day you learn Steven is a system.

All intrusive thoughts and unprofessional desires aside, this is something you take seriously. Steven has a diagnosis now - one you cannot ignore, nor can the museum use it against him. True, the toilets have been vandalized...by his alter. Not by him.

"I'd tell you more about why it happened, but you'd think me absolutely mad," he concludes, willing to share with you about his alter, but not an ancient Egyptian deity. Not today.

"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that," you respond, your eyes shining with sincerity and compassion.

There it is - the kindness you regard others with at all times - the dignity. Everyone has a fair shot with you, everyone deserves to be listened to. Sometimes Steven wonders if you would make a better therapist than a museum supervisor. Or perhaps he simply adores talking with you. And looking at you.

"Thank you," he breathlessly utters, his eyes glowing with gratitude, "for listening to me, I mean. Not many people do...listen to me, that is."

"I don't see why not," you return warmly. "I always enjoy our conversations, Steven."

That's not all you enjoy about him.

"Thank you," he repeats, blushing.

"So...which job is it that you're interested in?"

"Oh! Well, I'll take anything you'll give me. I'll do anything, really. Just say the word and I'm all yours."

Jesus.

Is it hot in here? Are you sweating? Oh god, you're staring. Are you staring?

Clearing your throat, you attempt to move this conversation along before you spontaneously combust.

"I think we have an opening for a tour guide," you inform. "Might be a little better suited to you than gift shop clerk. And it's not under Donna's purview."

"Oh god, really?" He gasps, his shoulders straightening from their typical, cute hunch. "You'd really let me interview - for a tour guide?"

"Of course," you sweetly reply. "We just need to set up a time for you to give me a private tour and I'll see what I can do."

The affection and adoration on Steven Grant's face is something you need to see again. Especially if you can be the cause for it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Are you sure? Once I start I don’t think I'll be able to stop," Steven confesses, standing with you at the entrance of the museum's Egyptian wing.

Nearly every word out of his gorgeous, kissable lips drives you to distraction.

Feeling uneasy at your silence, he barrels on, "Just don't want to talk my way out of a job, is all."

"No, of course you won't. Please, go ahead."

So he does.

He talks and talks and talks about everything you pass by. And not just the major displays, but the tiniest bits of pottery, cracked and nearly forgotten. But not by him. His brown eyes glow with intrigue, his hands gesture animatedly.

He knows everything there is to know, even going so far as to point out that one of the name plates underneath one of the smallest, dullest, frankly most insignificant display items - is incorrect.

How has this man been stuck at the gift shop counter with Donna condescending to him daily?

He's actually managed to distract you from your desires - from your silly crush - and really impress you, professionally.

"Have I done it, then?" He sheepishly questions, pressing his palms together as if supplicating, then pulling them close to his chest. "Have I gone on too long?"

"No," you breathe, with heartfelt conviction. "It was amazing. You're amazing."

His eyebrows shoot up as he pushes up on his toes eagerly. "Wow, really?"

"Yes," you nod fervently, grinning at him. "You're hired. Congratulations, Steven."

Squeezing his hands into cute fists, he nearly shakes with excitement. "Thank you. Thank you so much!" And then, as if all his puppy energy bursts out of him, he pulls you into a quick, but strong embrace. The heat of his body electrifies you utterly.

"Oh, god, sorry. That wasn’t professional at all, was it? No. Please don't tell my boss," he laughs, attempting to joke his way out of his blunder.

You're reeling. Where others see an info-dumping nerd, you see a man so eager to please. And so handsome. And smart. How is he single?

"D-don't worry about it," you finally stammer, realizing he's withdrawn his fidgeting fingers to his chest. "No harm done."

"Sorry, I just get...passionate. I mean..." He gestures around him, his eyes sweeping over the ancient relics he knows so well - though his eyes ultimately land on you. "It's all so bloodly amazing, innit?"

"Yes," you laugh, although not mockingly. "I agree, it is. And I think this display is best left in your hands, I really do."

Taking you literally, he holds his hands up for inspection, turning them over adorably before thrusting them out toward you. "These hands won't let you down, boss."

Steven is still holding out his hands so you extend your own for a professional handshake. "Welcome to the team. Or - welcome back, rather."

The warmth of his palm enveloping your own sends a wave of desire surging through you.

Steven holds on a bit longer than most people would, his gaze falling on yours. "Thank you. Really. You don't know what this means to me. I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you."

You could think of a few ways.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

All my fluffy babes feel free to stop here and don't kill me for taking this suggestive prompt and making it fluffy! My NSFW fans, continue on to part 2 ->

IvyStoryWeaver's 500 Follower Celebration

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven Grant-Centric stories

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[lovelynim]

TickleTober2023/Day 20 - Curse

Jujutsu Kaisen - Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo

Satoru was, by far, the best companion Suguru had at the Jujutsu High. Not that he disliked any of his colleagues, but there was something different in their relationship. That being said, Satoru could also be a huge and annoying pain sometimes.

And this was one of these times.

“Come ooooon,” Satoru whined, poking Suguru’s cheek over and over. “You collect a ton of them, why can’t you spare one for me to play with?”

Suguru sighed, looking at the white-haired guy with the corner of his eyes. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? It’s better if you practiced against another pers-”

“I don’t want to practice,” Satoru whined loudly, looking like a kid throwing a tantrum. Heavens, he was really testing out Suguru’s patience this time. “I want to play, it’s different!” A cheeky smile took place in his face. However, when the curse’s master paid attention to his partner, he could see through Satoru’s dark glasses, spotting the malice in his eyes. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Fine,” Suguru said, remembering a particular curse that would be useful to entertain the mighty Satoru. “But I have one condition,” he said, looking at the other guy with a grin. “You can’t fight it.”

“Haaah?! How is that any fun?”

“Just take its attacks like a man, or are you scared it might end up killing you? I want to test your endurance,” Suguru said with a twisted intention, but he also knew how effective it was to taunt Satoru into these kinds of things.

“Whatever,” Satoru huffed, getting back into his feet and taking a few steps forward. “Bring it, I’ll show you who’s scared of who.”

“I’m sure you will,” Suguru muttered, making a gesture with his hands to summon the said curse. Materializing its body in front of them, the octopus-like creature began to crawl towards Satoru. Suguru leaned back into his seat, waiting for the scene that was about to unfold.

Satoru decided to stick to the rules. If anything, he could just use his technique and blast that thing away. As the curse got closer, he prepared himself, watching as it shot one of its tentacles and… grabbed his hand?

“Remember: no attacking it, just bear it,” he repeated himself, watching as the curse pulled himself towards Satoru.

“As if this thing can bea- ack!” He grunted once the curse tackled him down to the ground. Was that the best it could do, Satoru thought, but a different feeling went up to his mind before he could continue with his snark. “Whahahat?!”

“Is something wrong? Too much for you?” Suguru smiled, hearing the first giggles come out from his cocky classmate.

“T-tihihihickling? Whahat arehehe yohou, a kihi- ahAHa, shihihit!!” Satoru laughed, trying to free his hands from the curse’s grip, battling the urge to laugh as that thing wiggled its free limbs into his sides, ribs, armpits and, honestly, anywhere within its reach.

“It’s called strategic thinking, Satoru,” he spoke in a lecture-like tone, cocking his head to the side, “but if this little curse too much for you, I can dismi-”

“ShuHUhut up!” Satoru laughed, kicking his feet in the air as he felt tickling getting worse. “Ihihit’s nohohot too m-much!”

“So you certainly can take it some more, no?” Suguru teased, even forgetting what he was doing earlier to watch Satoru’s struggling, just waiting for the moment when the white-haired would give up… so he could tease him some more.

A/N: Do this make sense? Probably not. Do I care? No. Did I enjoy writing it? Yeah, pretty much, ehe

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x40 - The Four Heavenly Kings of the Mountain of Evil! Dark Masters / Enter the Dark Masters

Previously on Digimon Adventure: The Chosen Children discovered Vamdemon's ultimate weakness: Forceful, repeated nut shots. After wailing on his vulnerable point until he fell over and died, they bid farewell to their loved ones and fucked off via rainbow magic without explaining anything to most of their confused, scared parents.

It's cool, they'll be back in like a minute. Thanks, time dilation!

The Four Heavenly Kings are a quartet of Buddhist devas who preside over the cardinal directions. They're kind of a big deal in Buddhist mythology and they come up a lot in Japanese pop culture. Anime and video games love the Four Heavenly Kings.

They're the Kais and the Supreme Kais in Dragon Ball. They're the Saint Beasts in Yu Yu Hakusho. The Elite Four in Pokemon. The Four Giants that must be rescued in Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. They're all over the place.

Notably, despite being called "kings", they are rarely the top of the hierarchy and typically serve a single master who stands above them all. The Heavenly Kings bend their knees to Taishakuten, supreme ruler over all devas. He governs from the peak of a great mountain at the center of all directions.

So where you find Four Heavenly Kings in media, you will often find a supreme lord of the center who sits above them. (Though not necessarily always; Yu Yu Hakusho, for instance, omitted that part.)

Digimon, too, has its Four Heavenly Kings. In fact, like Dragon Ball, it has multiple sets - with the penultimate villains of Adventure 01 being a corrupt and evil version of the concept, which is also not uncommon with Heavenly King portrayals.

They were not the first to come up with "Four Heavenly Kings BUT EVIL" and they will not be the last. Heavenly King references are a fun and easy way to fill in the top-dog super-elite enforcers for your primary bad guy.

So, without further adieu, we open this episode on the introduction of the titular Dark Masters, who govern four of the five traditional elements: Water, wood, metal, and slapstick comedy.

Spoiling their names a bit but I'm not gonna spend this whole scene calling them Clown Bro and Gatling Puppet. Piemon, pronounced "Pee-eh-mon" and not "Pie-mon", kicks us off. He's secretly monitoring the humans back in Japan, observing the Chosen Children preparing to return.

He's doing this through the truly ingenious method of pointing a giant-ass telescope at the reality tear in the sky and looking at Japan with his eyes.

Piemon: Those fools wear masks of fear, waiting in futility for peace to return. Such a wonderful sight to behold! MetalSeadramon: (bursts from the water) This is stupid! We should attack! Pinochimon: Their flow of time moves differently from ours. We should take our time and pick them off one by one. Like him! Mugendramon: (silent, but for heavy breathing)

The camera slowly pans up Mugendramon's metal body. I'm not 100% certain on what Pinochimon is suggesting here, but I think he wants to use Mugendramon's cannons to, like, shoot up into the sky rifts and snipe humans while they're frozen in the glacially-moving time of the other world.

A horrifying thought. We should probably close those rifts.

The dub understood the assignment with Piedmon.

Piedmon: Hahaha! Those bit players are frozen with stage fright! Hopelessly waiting for the moment they'll be saved! And yet, there's an unseen twist to the plot! MetalSeadramon: I say we cut to the punchline and go straight for the action! Puppetmon: Oh please, that would be boring! I want to play this drama to the hilt! Let's pull out all the stops and give 'em what they paid for.

Piedmon's voice is basically perfect. He's being performed as an overenthusiastic virtuoso. For Puppetmon, they go a different direction; Pinocchimon is voiced like a young boy, while Puppetmon has this scratchy sneering voice like a little weasel man.

Far from the bestial roar of the original, the dub's MetalSeadramon sounds like a twenty-something young man with a southern twang in his voice. Interesting choice. That could get annoying or be hilarious. We'll see where that goes.

Machinedramon does not get to breathe heavily into the mic because they cut the part of Pinocchimon's line that calls him out and puts attention on him. So now the camera pans over him for no apparent reason while Puppetmon is talking.

Depending on whether my understanding is right, I could see them changing his line because holy shit that's violent and dark or because they, like me, weren't exactly sure what he was saying. Might be censorship, might be "Huh?"

Piemon: The Chosen Children will return soon. Our boredom is at its end. Now! Let us leave the dressing room! The stage curtains are rising!

Spotlights shine on each of the Dark Masters to punctuate his words.

Piemon: The title is: The End of the Chosen Children!

In the dub, Piedmon continues off of Puppetmon's changed line.

Piedmon: I'm in complete agreement! A quick victory would be a letdown. The DigiDestined will be on Spiral Mountain soon; We must rehearse before they get here. It will be their FINAL PERFORMANCE!!!

As a silence-breaker, he introduces them each individually to the audience when the spotlights come in.

Piedmon: MetalSeadramon! Puppetmon! And Machinedramon! I present to you the downfall of the DigiDestined!

The dub's front-loading a lot of proper nouns, though they never have a chance to name Piedmon. They even name-drop Spiral Mountain early.

While the Dark Masters make their plans, the children arrive in the Digital World and take stock of their surroundings.

Taichi: Are we back? Mimi: I think so.... Koushiro: We should be. Takeru: Is it night-time? Yamato: Looks like.

Sora looks up and suddenly lets out a shriek.

Sora: EHHHHH!?!? EVERYONE, LOOK!!!

Looking up into the sky above, they can see the island of Hokkaido floating in the sky above, as if the blue sky were the ocean. Hokkaido is one of the biggest parts of Japan, so this is very much like looking up and seeing Texas distantly floating upside-down in the air.

Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Taichi: H-HOKKAIDO!?!? Yamato: IS THAT EARTH!?!? Koushiro: We're able to see Earth from here, the same way we could see the DIgimon World from Earth earlier.

Poor Koushiro having to explain the obvious to his shocked colleagues. Sitting there like, "Come on, guys. We already know this is happening."

As a small microaggression towards my kid, Taichi's uncertainty and Mimi's confirmation is flip-flopped in the dub so that Tai's certain and Mimi's confused.

Tai: Well, it looks like we're back. Mimi: Back where? in the Digital World? Izzy: That's affirmative. T.K.: It's dark. Matt: Yeah! It's kind of weird!

The resulting line doesn't make a lot of sense. Where do you think we went back to, Mimi? The McDonalds we bullied Joe at? Not to be outdone, however, Matt promptly forgets how night works to take the pressure off of Mimi's dumb question. XD

I think they all have cosmic jet-lag.

Sora does not shriek when she notices the sky.

Sora: HEY!!! LOOK UP THERE!!! Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Tai: Talk about weird! Matt: Could that be Earth!? Izzy: It's merely speculation but it seems to be a reasonable facsimile. We see Earth from here like we saw the Digital World from Earth.

They cut the regional reference to Hokkaido which I actually think was a bad call. Japanese kids could reasonably recognize that island in the sky but Americans have no idea what they're looking at. It just looks like an ink blot.

So when the kids are like, "IS THAT EARTH!?!?"

Like.

Is it? Doesn't look like Earth to me. That is a weird dark shape in the clouds, not a planet. This is a confusing moment in the dub.

This might have been a good time to have, say, Joe chime in with a line like "I recognize that island; It's one of the biggest islands in Japan!" That way, the kids watching would understand what they're supposed to be seeing, because it is not clear at a glance with zero comprehension of Japanese geography.

Suddenly, Jou hears something rustling around in the brush.

Jou: Hm? Gomamon? What are you doing down there, Gomamon?

He walks over to where the sound's coming from, sifting through the grass. Gomamon pops out of Jou's duffel bag nearby.

Gomamon: Jou! I'm over here! Jou: Eh? Then who's this--GYAAAAAGH!!!

Chuumon erupts from the grass, attacking Jou and clawing at his face while screaming in a panic. The ground shifts, opening up a chasm beneath Jou, and Chuumon leaps away to safety.

Gomamon: JOU!!!

Jou grabs onto the newly created cliffside for dear life.

In the dub:

Joe: Hm? Gomamon? Hey, where are you? (Joe follows the sound, but Gomamon pops out of Joe's duffel) Gomamon: Joe, I've been snoozing over here! Joe: Huh? Oh, well we'll just save the world without you then-- (Joe gets attacked, then falls off a cliff) Gomamon: JOE!!! Joe: Wh-whoa! ...I didn't need this.

Again, weird scripting choice here. They replace his last line with a snarky gag, but visually Joe returns his attention to the spot he was investigating (and gets attacked for it) without indicating why he's still poking around that patch of grass.

Joe's understated whine of a silence-breaker is fantastic, though. He's so used to peril at this point that his reaction to falling off a cliff is basically a stone-faced, "Really. Okay." XD

Koromon, Tsunomon, Mochimon, Tokomon, and Pyocomon all take Jou getting attacked as encouragement to evolve into their Child-stages, ending their recovery periods. Plotmon remains Plotmon and Palmon trips, falling on her face in a funny moment in the middle of the dramatic charge.

Agumon, Gabumon, Patamon, and Palmon all move in on the attacker in the grass, but Hikari calls out.

Hikari: STOP!!!

Approaching the grass, Hikari crouches down and gently, softly addresses the terrified Digimon hiding in it.

Hikari: Don't be scared. You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you. You can come out.

Trembling in fear, Chuumon slowly emerges from the grass, then collapses in front of the kids.

Palmon: It's Chuumon! Mimi: You're right! That's Chuumon from File Island! (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi-chan? Palmon?

We briefly flash back on better, or at least less despondent days, when Scumon and Chuumon met Mimi way back when.

Chuumon: I'm glad... you came back....

That's all Chuumon manages to get out before passing out.

In the dub:

Kari: HOLD ON!!! (Kari approaches the grass and crouches down) Kari: Come out! You're among friends. We won't hurt you. Don't be afraid. (Chuumon emerges) Palmon: Oh my goodness! It's Chuumon! Mimi: He looks terrible; What he needs is a complete makeover. (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi? Palmon? (Brief flashback of meeting Mimi) Mimi (V.O.): Something bad happened. Sukamon and Chuumon used to be inseparable! (Flashback ends) Chuumon: I'm so glad you came back to save us....

They remove the part where Mimi ID's Chuumon as specifically the one from File Island, which is kind of important because there was a separate Scumon and Chuumon among PicoDevimon's shitty recruits earlier. Then again, the dub might not know those are different Digimon, given the confusion they had about Kuwagamon "following us from File Island" during the Etemon arc.

It's fine, though, because the flashback that follows does the job anyway. Plus she still calls them out in her silence-breaking flashback narration, so nothing is lost by the replacement of this line with a signature Mimi Quip.

It's actually Kari's dialogue that I take issue with. Not for the lines she says but the tone of voice. Rather than the soft, gentle tones that the original uses, she talks to Chuumon in her normal speaking voice. It's a small thing but it dampens the emotional impact of the moment and its demonstration of Hikari's sensitive empathy.

It doesn't ruin the scene, though; It just means the tone of the moment isn't as strong as it would otherwise be.

Suddenly Jou calls out, reminding everyone that he's still dangling off a cliff.

Jou: HEEEEEY SOMEONE HELP!!! Gomamon: Oops, I forgot!

Gomamon bounds over to the edge of the cliff to help Jou, only to be stymied by his biological limitations.

Gomamon: Waugh!? Jou: Gomamon, give me your hand! I can't climb back up on my own! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Now, when you say to give you my 'hand'....

This is a callback to the Unimon episode way back on File Island; Jou's first spotlight episode. There, he'd ribbed Gomamon for offering to lend a "hand".

Taichi and Yamato arrive, looking at the ravine beyond Jou.

Taichi: This is...! Yamato: AH! Taichi: Jou, climb back up!

Jou briefly looks down, seeing that the ravine is deep beneath him, and shrieks. He scrambles to pull himself up, while Taichi and Yamato grab him and help pull him back onto the grass.

Jou: Help me! Yamato: Come on, hurry! Taichi: Grab on!

Once Jou's safely back on the ground, the three boys look into the deepening ravine, watching chunks of the landscape crumble and fall into it.

Yamato: What is happening here...?

In the dub:

Joe: Would somebody mind helping me!? Gomamon: Whoops, I forgot all about ya! (Gomamon runs over to Joe) Joe: You forgot. I'm hanging here by my elbows and you're off in la-la land! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Gee, I wonder what it's like to have elbows? (Tai and Matt arrive) Tai: Joe!? Figures. Matt: Huh!? Tai: Hey, quit fooling around! (Joe looks down and shrieks; The boys pull him up.) Joe: Just help me, will ya!? Matt: Work with us! (Matt looks at the collapsing landscape) Matt: What's happening!? Everything's gone wacko!

The "hand" bit is replaced with Gomamon getting distracted by a non sequitur. Tai's dialogue is rewritten to be mean to Joe.

While everyone's dealing with Jou and Chuumon, Koushiro tries to contact Gennai.

Tentomon: Have you found Gennai-han? Koushiro: No, I haven't been able to get through.

Meanwhile, Mimi cradles Chuumon in her lap while the group gathers around him.

Palmon: He looks a lot less scared after seeing your face, Mimi. Piyomon: He must have been running on pure adrenaline. Sora: The poor thing.

Chuumon wakes up in Mimi's lap.

Mimi: Chuumon? Chuumon: Mimi-chan? You're really Mimi-chan! Mimi: That's right. What happened to you? Chuumon: (silently flinches away from the question) Palmon: Where's your pal Scumon? Chuumon: He's... He's dead!

Making that admission, Chuumon starts bawling. We cut to a flashback of Scumon and Chuumon living carefree lives on File Island.

Chuumon (V.O.): After Mimi-chan and the others left File Island, we spent our days peacefully like usual. Then, one day out of nowhere....

A huge earthquake rips through the island. Scumon and Chuumon run for their lives, but Scumon falls into a massive chasm that opens up. Chuumon calls after him, but a wave of darkness ushers up from the chasm, blowing him away.

Chuumon (V.O.): The powers of darkness enveloped the world. Then, to make it easier for darkness to rule, they reshaped the entire world....

In media, it's generally agreed that if you don't see a body, the character's going to come back. Digimon don't leave bodies behind, however, so just take my assurance that there's no trick here.

Scumon is actually dead. We will not see him again until 02, after he's had a chance to reincarnate at Primary Village. He was one of probably many casualties unluckily caught up in the Dark Masters' upheaval of the landscape.

In the dub:

Tentomon: Are you trying to get a hold of Gennai? Izzy: Well, I'm not playing Solitaire! (Cut to the kids gathered around Chuumon in Mimi's lap) Palmon: Chuumon's a mess! I wonder what happened to him. Biyomon: Well, whatever it was, it wasn't very pretty! Sora: Poor thing! (Chuumon wakes up) Mimi: Ah! Chuumon! Chuumon: Mimi.... I wasn't dreaming; It's really you after all! Mimi: Poor thing. Why don't you tell Mimi all about it?

I had issues earlier with Kari's voice but Mimi's tone here is perfect. I love the way she uses her own name as an emotional prybar to get Chuumon to open up, having recognized the unique influence she has in this moment.

Palmon: What happened to your friend Sukamon? Chuumon: I-I... I'm afraid I lost him.... (Chuumon starts bawling and goes into flashback) Chuumon (V.O.): After you guys left File Island, Sukamon and I went on with life as usual. You know, eating, eating, and more eating! When suddenly.... (The chasm rips apart File Island and Sukamon falls into the darkness below) Chuumon: I never saw him again! A powerful evil force took over the land, causing all kinds of bad things to happen! Then it rebuilt the Digital World so it would be easier to conquer! I've been hiding ever since.

The dub doesn't directly state that Sukamon's dead, but they don't unwrite his death either. They leave Sukamon's fate up in the air.

The kids have some questions about that last thing Chuumon mentioned.

Taichi: They reshaped the world? Koushiro: Into what?

Cut to an ambiguous length of time later; The sun's risen, so they must have been traveling a while to get here. Still carried in Mimi's arms, Chuumon shows the kids to the base of a colossal, twisting landmass composed of various biomes streaked up from the earth below.

Chuumon: Some places here or there are ruins of what they used to be, but most of it has been twisted up into that mountain. It's called Spiral Mountain.

Like many proper nouns in the Digital World, the name "Spiral Mountain" is in English.

Yamato: Spiral Mountain? Joe: I can't believe the Digimon World has changed so much....

Yeah, the Dark Masters reshaped the world into their own literally twisted version of the compass center Shumisen; The great mountain at the center of the universe upon which sits the heaven of the devas.

In the dub:

Tai: You mean the Digital World is completely changed from what it was? Izzy: How is it different? (Chuumon shows them to Spiral Mountain) Chuumon: Everything's been discombobulated and taken apart! The Digital World has been relocated way up there! It's called Spiral Mountain! There's nothing left here of the old world except some ruins! Matt: So you're saying it's all up there. Huh. Joe: Color me cynical but nothing surprises me about this place.

"The Digital World has been relocated way up there" is an awkward way to explain this. The Digital World hasn't been relocated; It's been reshaped, with most of its geographic mass twisted up into Spiral Mountain.

We are, right now, standing in the Digital World. We're just in the scant non-mountain bits that were left over.

As an aside, I like Joe's parting quip at the end of this exchange. XD

Taichi has more questions for the traumatized Chuumon.

Taichi: What happened to the other Digimon? Like Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But I've heard that everyone who's gone against them has been destroyed.... Sora: Against who? Chuumon: (hushed whisper) ...the Dark Masters....

The phrase "Dark Masters" is also in English.

Taichi: So then we have to fight these Dark Masters. Chuumon: FIGHT!?!? YOU'LL NEVER WIN!!! NEVER EVER!!! Taichi: Hey, we brought down Vamdemon! Mimi: It will be okay! As long as all eight of the Chosen Children are together, we can save the world!

Mimi's trying so hard to reassure Chuumon, but the very thought of these kids trying to resist the Dark Masters chills him to his bones.

In the dub:

Tai: Where did all the other Digimon go? Are they up there too? Where's Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But from what I've been told, they'll destroy anything that tries to get in their way! Sora: Who will? Chuumon: Who? The Dark Masters! Tai: Well, they couldn't be too much tougher than anybody else we've wrestled with before. Chuumon: No way! They'll beat the pants right off of you! Tai: We got rid of Myotismon, so we can get rid of them too! Mimi: Don't worry about it. As long as the eight of us are together, we'll keep those big bullies away from you!

This whole exchange is semantically very different, particularly when Chuumon gets in a pissing contest with Tai about how tough the Dark Masters are rather than panicking and screaming. But it's all lateral changes, I think. Same ideas expressed differently, nothing objectionable or especially noteworthy.

Suddenly, a deep, bestial laugh fills the air around the kids.

MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! CHOSEN CHILDREN!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!!!

The ground in front of them explodes into smoke and debris, then MetalSeadramon's titanic body erupts upwards from the smoke.

Chuumon: IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!!

Alright! Go ahead, Taichi. Go fight him. We'll wait here. :P

(In seriousness, Taichi's assessment was fair. The Dark Masters are each on the same level as VenomVamdemon. Chuumon has a different frame of reference because Ultimate-stage Digimon are so rare and mythical as to basically be unheard of.)

In any case, it's time for MetalSeadramon's rundown. He's an Ultimate-stage Data-type Cyborg Digimon; The Data Ultimate for the Deep Savers evolution tree, evolved from MegaSeadramon.

Narrator: MetalSeadramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon whose entire body is covered in Chrome Digizoid, the strongest metal. He boasts colossal power and tremendous speed.

"Chrome Digizoid" is English. Well, Digizoid is a made-up word, but "Chrome" is English and Digizoid is English-like.

The kids run for it. MetalSeadramon moves quickly, swooping through the woods and smashing through the group. Though he fails to get a solid hit on anyone, he sends the kids tumbling to the ground in his wake.

Yamato: (trying to get up; pained) How can he move so fast with a body that huge!?

Over in the dub:

MetalSeadramon: HEEEHEHEHAHAHA!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, DIGIDESTINED!!! (MetalSeadramon erupts from the ground) Chuumon: OH NO, IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) This guy is one real hard nose! And I mean hard nose! Take my advice: This is one train that you would rather miss. (MetalSeadramon attacks, knocking the kids down) Matt: (trying to get up; pained) Okay, if that's the way you want it, we can play rough too!

Another instance of the dub swapping out dialogue to make the kids look stronger and more battle-hungry.

Chuumon's diegetic rundown sucks. The original rundown gives salient explanations for why MetalSeadramon is a force to be reckoned with. Dub Chuumon just says "He's really tough, trust me."

Getting up, the kids and their Partner Digimon prepare to fight back.

Taichi: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Got it! Yamato: Gabumon! Sora: I'm counting on you, Piyomon!

All eight Partner Digimon evolve to their Adult forms to throw down with MetalSeadramon.

It does not go well.

In fact, it goes tremendously unwell. Fighting him at -2 stages was a terrible idea.

Tailmon does manage to jerk aside before he can fucking eat her but they're still losing this fight badly. And embarrassing themselves in front of Chuumon who was already convinced the kids were screwed.

In the dub:

Tai: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Gotcha! Matt: Now it's our turn!

Sora's line gets snubbed. Rude.

Love the confidence on Matt, though. "Now it's OUR turn!" exclaimed while basically whipping out a switchblade to face down a gatling gun.

The dub makes minor edits to MetalSeadramon's brutal beatdown. The shot where his tail slams into Togemon is cut down; We see her go flying but we don't see the hit that threw her.

Dub Angemon inexplicably calls his Hand of Fate attack while getting bodied like the rest. They got to do their stock animation attacks and then get bodied, but he didn't get to do a stock animation attack first so I guess he got jealous.

Similarly, when Gatomon lunges at MetalSeadramon's face and immediately has regrets, she calls Lightning Paw in the dub. The original Tailmon was just... trying to tackle him in the face. Which is a terrible idea, so having her at least call an attack there makes sense.

Flying overhead, MegaSeadramon makes victory loopies in the sky.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!! Hikari: Tailmon.... MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHA!!! As if you could win against me! Mimi: Why is this happening!? It's eight against one! (Koushiro suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Koushiro: MetalSeadramon is an Ultimate-stage Digimon! Adult-stages can't win against him no matter how many there are! Taichi: He's Ultimate-stage!? Jou: Why does our first opponent have to be such a powerful one!? MetalSeadramon: You're finished. ULTIMATE STREAM!!!

MetalSeadramon's Ultimate Stream fires from the cannon on his nose, annihilating the landscape around the Chosen Children in a massive energy explosion. The eight Partner Digimon all wrap themselves around their partnered children to shield them from the blast.

Seriously, though, I said it for dub Matt earlier but I'll say it again here. You gotta love the sheer cockiness. Riding high on their victory against Vamdemon, they thought they could stroll in here, throw a few Meteor Wings and Mega Flames around, and the Dark Masters would roll over and die for them.

They thought VenomVamdemon was as bad as it gets. They were not prepared for more Ultimate Digimon.

In the dub:

T.K.: Angemon! Kari: Oh no! MetalSeadramon: (loopies) YOU SHOULD KNOW YOUR POWERS AREN'T STRONG ENOUGH!!! Mimi: How come he's beating us so badly!? (Izzy suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Izzy: Ah! It's because he's a Mega Digimon, and even eight Champions can't overtake one Mega! He's stronger than all of us combined! Tai: Then we're lost without more power! Joe: Ever notice we're always in the wrong place at just the wrong time? MetalSeadramon: Now it's time to take one nasty ride!

Dub MetalSeadramon does not call his attack.

We go to commercial following MetalSeadramon's attack and come back to the kids recovering in a dark place.

Angemon: (cradling Takeru) Takeru, are you hurt? Takeru: I'm okay. Thank you, Angemon.

Angemon nods, but then they hear a low, bestial growling. Angemon whips his head around. There's something out there in the mists that he can't make out. He sets down Takeru and picks up his Holy Rod.

Takeru: What is it? Angemon: There's something here. I'll go take a look.

In the dub:

Angemon: (cradling T.K.) T.K., are you alright? T.K.: I thought I was broken, but I guess I must be okay!

The dub frequently misses sound cues for plot points that are strictly auditory, but they do capture the bestial growling that sets off Angemon here. Points for that.

T.K.: What's the matter? Angemon: Wait. I'll be back.

Angemon takes to the air, trying to scout ahead. In the distance, a metallic whirring sound revs up, and two bolts of light begin to glow in the mist.

Then they fire.

Before he knows what hit him, Angemon's pummeled by twin cannon shots.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!!

Regressing into Patamon, he flops helplessly across the grass, landing in front of Takeru.

Takeru: Patamon! Patamon, hang in there!

Mugendramon wheels forward out of the mist. And I do mean wheels; He doesn't actually walk, but rolls forward motionlessly like his feet have roller skates under them or something.

He roars aggressively, saying nothing. Koushiro checks his laptop, bringing us into our second Dark Master rundown.

Mugendramon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Machine Digimon. The Virus Ultimate from Metal Empire, completing the set with WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. His name is derived from the Japanese word mugen, meaning infinite, and of course dramon/dragon. Mugendramon is the Infinite Dragon.

Koushiro: (laptop) Ah! That's another Ultimate-stage Digimon! Narrator: Mugendramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon who wields unbelievable power. His special attack is Mugen Cannon.

Angemon took two shots from the Infinite Dragon's Infinite Cannon. It's a wonder he's even alive.

Over in the dub:

T.K.: ANGEMON!!! (Angemon reverts to Patamon and flops on the ground) T.K.: Oh no! Poor Patamon! (Machinedramon emerges) Izzy: (laptop) Ah! Be prepared for another Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) He's called Machinedramon. This metallic mutant can blow out a Digimon just like a birthday candle!

The original rundown for this wasn't exactly super explanatory. It just said "Fucker strong." Izzy says the same but in the weirdest way possible. He's trying to make a quip out of it but, sorry Izzy, they can't all be winners.

Everybody Super-Evolves to face Mugendramon, except Angemon who is still slacking. Once in their Perfect stages, they have a plan. The plan is "Get him".

Not a great plan. Taichi endorses it because of course he does.

Taichi: Get him! Beat him up! Hikari: But we can't win.... Taichi: Eh?

Rushing Mugendramon in a mob, the Digimon try in vain to close distance. Mugendramon kicks back, enjoys his firing position, and mows them all down in a barrage of Mugen Cannon fire. This was a terrible plan of attack.

In the dub:

Tai: Come on, guys! Show him what you're made of! Kari: Hope they're made of something strong enough! Tai: Huh!?

Kari seems more onboard with this plan than Hikari was, though still more realistic than Tai about their chances.

Mugendramon keeps up the assault. One of his shots hits Angewomon, knocking her out of the sky. Hikari tries to catch her but her tiny child body gets crushed under Angewomon's larger bulk.

Good effort, Hikari. Eyes were a little bigger than your arms, though.

Mugendramon's assault destroys the landscape beneath the kids, and they fall deeper into the dark place. Then they gradually drift to a stop, still floating in the air.

Koushiro: We stopped. Mimi: Where are we? What's going on?

Mimi's question goes unanswered as more pressing priorities emerge. WereGarurumon suddenly, out of nowhere, throws a punch at Garudamon and clocks her across the face. Garudamon recovers and comes back with a right hook.

Yamato: What are you doing, WereGarurumon!? Sora: Stop it, Garudamon! You're on the same side!

Garudamon and WereGarurumon continue fistfighting.

Garudamon: I'm not doing it on purpose! WereGarurumon: My body... It's moving by itself! Sora: (confused) Your body's moving by itself?

An unseen force suddenly jerks Sora's arms up into an odd pose. Cut to Jou, hanging from Zudomon's horn, who's jogging in place.

Jou: W-What's going on!?

In the dub, Mimi makes a salient point about their odd predicament.

Izzy: We stopped! Mimi: I can't complain. It's sure a lot better than falling on our heads. (Digimon start fighting) Matt: Hey, can't you two take a break for one minute!? Sora: Yeah, come on! We're all supposed to be on the same side! Garudamon: I can't control it! WereGarurumon: That's right! Our bodies are doing this all by themselves! Sora: (skeptically) All by themselves, huh? OH! (arm pose) Joe: (forced to jog in place) I've always hated any form of exercise; What's happening to me!?

Dub Sora straight-up doesn't believe them when they explain they're being controlled. XD

It's Koushiro who finally notices the thin strings connected to each of them.

Koushiro: Ah! There are strings attached to us! We're being controlled! Pinochimon: Hehehehe... You finally figured it out. Koushiro: Who are you!? Pinochimon: Why don't you use your special little computer to find out? Here.

Using Koushiro's strings, Pinochimon manipulates him into typing at his computer to pull up Pinochimon's profile. Pinochimon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Puppet Digimon. He's the Virus Ultimate from the Wind Guardians line, sharing space with Piyomon and Palmon's evolutionary paths. His name and design are obviously based on Pinocchio.

Koushiro: Ah! He's Ultimate-stage! Narrator: Pinochimon. An Ultimate Digimon who places Number One in awful personalities! His special attack is Bullet Hammer.

Number One with a bullet, you say? A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it?

Gotta love the gradual decline in the these rundowns.

MetalSeadramon - He's ultra fast and powerful not to mention gigantic! Plus his armor is made from the strongest metal in the Digital World! Mugendramon - He's unbelievably powerful. So powerful, you guys. Pinochimon - ...he's very mean.

At this point, Piemon's rundown will just be "Piemon. (long silence) What a dick!"

The dub changes Pinochimon's name to Puppetmon.

Izzy: We've become string puppets! And someone's operating us! Puppetmon: (mocking) Hah hahaha hah! Well, aren't we a little smarty pants!? Izzy: Who are you!? Puppetmon: Wanna know? How about if I help you look up my profile on your special computer? Watch! (Puppetmon manipulates Izzy into typing) Izzy: (gasp) He's also a Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) Puppetmon has a controlling personality and a rotten temper! Get him mad and he'll bop you with his hammer!

He'll probably shoot you with his hammer, actually, but the dub may be trying to avoid saying "Bullet Hammer". Though you can still clearly see that the head of his hammer is the cylinder of a revolver.

Snerk. Good, uh... good luck with that, dub team. I cannot wait 'til we get to his episode.

Upon meeting Pinochimon, Mimi wants to file a complaint.

Mimi: (furious) Again!? Why do these Ultimate-stage Digimon keep appearing one after another!? Lilimon: Mimi.... Pinochimon: Now, fly to the Last Stage!

Pinochimon yanks the kids' strings, sending them flying through the void. Then he addresses the Digimon left behind.

Pinochimon: You guys should hurry after them. BULLET HAMMER!!!

The revolver cylinder on his hammer fires off like a minigun, spraying the Partner Digimon and knocking them all out of their Perfect forms. Most regress to their baby forms, save for Agumon, Gabumon, and Tailmon as usual.

In the dub, Mimi's complaint to the management turns into her firing off a fantastic Mimi Quip.

Mimi: If you have to hit something, you should bop yourself for how you look in that stupid helmet! Lillymon: MIMI!?!?

Savage. Even Lillymon's shocked by Mimi's ferocity.

Puppetmon: I'm gonna have to let you go for now! (Puppetmon sends the kids away) Puppetmon: But I promise to destroy you! PUPPET PUMMEL!!!

Though they censor out the name of Pinochimon's Bullet Hammer, the footage of it firing remains unedited.

The children wake up at a Greco-Roman coliseum, groaning in pain. Based on the surrounding area, we seem to be in the desert from the Etemon arc, or what it's become in the reconfigured world.

A jovial clown balancing on a ball rolls out onto the stage.

Clown: Hello, good children! I'm here today to tell you all a funny story!

The clown holds up crudely-drawn crayon pictures to illustrate his story.

Clown: A long, long time ago, there were eight Chosen Children and their Digimon. The Eight Children and their Digimon were foolish enough to climb Spiral Mountain, where they all met a tragic fate at the hands of the Dark Masters. The end. Takeru: (angry) What was that!? That wasn't funny at all! Clown: I just told you what sort of destiny awaits you. You should be grateful. ^_^

Poor Takeru totally fumbled his Sense Motive check when the random clown arrived. XD He was actually expecting to be entertained. Did not catch the vibe of this conversation at all.

In the dub:

Clown: Well, hello there, boys and girls! And welcome! Today, I'm going to tell you an amazing story! (The clown holds out his crayon sketches) Clown: Once upon a time, there was eight DigiDestined. They went with their Digimon companions to try to save the world. The children and their Digimon discovered that in order for them to do it, they had to climb up to the top of Spiral Mountain. But to their dismay, the Dark Masters defeated them. So sad! T.K.: Hey, Clowny! Nobody's laughing at your story! Clown: Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Did I happen to mention the story is true? I wanted to give you a preview of the plot!

Pretty faithful, I'd say.

Suddenly, the clown's guise fades away and reveals him to be Piemon.

Piemon leaps to the top of a nearby column, laughing as he goes. From here, we go into our final rundown for the Dark Masters.

Piemon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Demon Person Digimon. Fittingly, he's the Virus Ultimate of the Nightmare Soldiers and the original Ultimate evolution for Vamdemon, as well as Phantomon.

Yes, over the course of this show the kids have had to fight their way through the entire Nightmare Soldiers evolution branch of Devimon -> Vamdemon -> Piemon while also taking a break to punch it out with Monkey Elvis.

As I mentioned before, Piemon's name is not "Pie-mon". It's pronounced Pee-eh-mon, because it's a reference to the comedic character Pierrot from traditional European pantomime performances.

His dub name Piedmon, however, is "Pied-mon", a reference to clowns being hit with pies. This is because the dub didn't trust American nine-year-olds to be familiar with Victorian-Era European Mime Lore. XD

Mimi: Wha--!? Chuumon: WAAAAAUGH!!! IT'S PIEMON!!! Narrator: Piemon. A phantasmal Ultimate-stage Digimon who comes and goes unexpectedly. His true nature is shrouded in mystery.

What a dick!

No, like MetalSeadramon, that is a pretty solid infodump. It tells us to expect Piemon to be a walking WTF.

To summarize what we've learned here: MetalSeadramon is huge, fast, and invulnerable. Mugendramon is unbelievably powerful. Pinochimon is unpleasant at parties. And Piemon has bizarre and esoteric abilities.

This all serves to set up the conflicts to come. Yes, even Pinochimon.

Over in the dub:

Piedmon: Hahahahahaha! Fools! Mimi: (gasp) Chuumon: AHHHHHHHHHH!!! IT'S PIEDMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) He's a Mega Phantom Digimon of the worst kind! You never know what he's going to look like next!

This is the closest a Dark Master rundown gets to relaying the original information. Good job, Chuumon.

Just once, can we run into a Phantom Digimon of the best kind? Where's Ghost of Christmas Presentmon? That guy seems like he'd be fun to hang out with.

Finally, Taichi and Yamato are at their wit's end with all these Ultimate Digimon and decide to match power with power.

Taichi: We won't lose to you guys! Agumon! Yamato: Gabumon, I'm counting on you!

Agumon and Gabumon Warp-Evolve to face Piemon Ultimate to Ultimate.

Taichi: Go, WarGreymon! Show him what we're made of! Yamato: MetalGarurumon! Take him down and save the world!

WarGreymon leads with Gaia Force. Piemon sidesteps the attack. MetalGarurumon follows up with Cocytus Breath, but Piemon breaks out one of his swords and slices through the slushie onslaught.

In the dub, Tai kicks us off with a retort to Piedmon's story earlier.

Tai: Well, I think your plot needs a few rewrites! Agumon! Matt: Gabumon, you can do it! (Warp evolutions) Tai: Yeah! Let him know we mean business, WarGreymon! Matt: MetalGarurumon! Teach that joker a lesson he'll never forget!

Pretty snappy comeback for Tai there, especially to a thespian like Pie(d)mon. It's one thing to call him a dick but shit-talking his craft is really throwing down the gauntlet.

Too bad about those whiffed attacks, though.

After maneuvering through the pair's offense, Piemon comes back with his own signature move: Trump Sword.

It's sword-throwing. He throws swords.

Direct hits on WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon score instant KOs, reverting them back to Agumon and Gabumon.

Jou: I-It can't be! Sora: We can't win even with two Ultimates on our side? Mimi: He's just an Ultimate too, right? Piemon: Even though we are on the same level, you have only recently acquired your new power. You're mistaken if you think that is all it takes to win. Agumon: (pained) I'm sorry, Taichi....

Piemon was able to outfight WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon simultaneously, not because he's stronger than them but because he has much more experience in the Ultimate state. As a natural Ultimate who achieved this level the hard way, by rising through the ranks of Perfect and Ultimate evolution, he simply has them outmatched in skill and experience.

From there, Piemon goes on to give his team their formal introductions, despite Koushiro having already identified each of them. He's a showman; Let him have this moment.

Piemon: Permit me now to introduce the members that make up the Dark Masters. MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piemon: Mugendramon! (Mugendramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piemon: Pinochimon! (Pinochimon just sort of appears) Pinochimon: Personally, I wish I could have had some more fun with you. Piemon: And myself, Piemon. (Piemon remains a dick.) Piemon: Time flies in the blink of an eye when you're having fun. Now then. Who should die first?

In the dub:

Joe: This is bad news. Sora: Even two Mega Digimon couldn't put him down! That's really bad news! Mimi: Not to mention he's a fashion disaster! Piedmon: Your two Megas are newly Digivolved. How can you expect them to compete against an experienced and, might I boast, superior Digimon? Agumon: (pained) Tai... Sorry....

Mimi's question is replaced with a Mimi Quip. Fortunately, Piedmon still delivers the important information anyway and we get a Mimi Quip out of it so it's cool.

Piedmon: Please permit me to present my fellow actors in this captivating and charming comedy of errors! MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piedmon: Machinedramon! (Machinedramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piedmon: Puppetmon! (Puppetmon just sort of appears) Puppetmon: You thought you were through with me, but I wanted to have some more fun! Piedmon: And myself, Piedmon. (Such a dick.) Piedmon: We'd like to begin by asking for audience volunteers. Who would like to be the first to be destroyed? Oh come now, don't tell me you have stage fright!

No lie, I am loving the dub performance for Piedmon. They understood the assignment.

Piemon's eyes scan the group before falling on Mimi.

The moment she realizes he's looking at her, Mimi bursts out into tears, screaming and crying at the top of her lungs.

Mimi: No... NO!!! I'M JUST AN ORDINARY GRADE SCHOOL STUDENT!!! WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DIE HERE!?!? Sora: (gently) Mimi-chan.... Mimi: I WANTED TO DRESS UP IN FASHIONABLE CLOTHES AND EAT MORE YUMMY THINGS AND GO ON A TRIP ABROAD AND-- Piedmon: Your whining is starting to hurt my ears! I'm going to start with you.

Just like that, Piemon gets target lock.

Mimi melts down in both versions, but the dub's meltdown is a bit different.

Mimi: I didn't even want to go to camp in the first place! I just wanted to go to the mall! Can't somebody else save this silly world besides me!? Sora: (surprised) Mimi!? Mimi: I want to be a normal kid and not have any big responsibilities! I mean, come on, is that too much to ask!? It's not fair! Piedmon: Ack! Your incessant whining is getting on my nerves! You will be the first one to go!

Original Mimi's meltdown is about the unfairness of having to die at such a young age with so much of her life still ahead of her. Dub Mimi's meltdown is about how much she doesn't want to be a child soldier which is valid but contextually off.

It feels like the dub team is trying to fill in a Mimi meltdown from scratch to avoid going as dark as the original subject matter. They do a fair job; It doesn't feel like it came out of nowhere. But lines like "Can't someone else save the world?" and "I don't want responsibilities!" still seem divorced from the specific grim predicament she's actually in right now.

Having made up his mind Piemon swiftly draws a hidden dagger from his sleeve and tosses it at Mimi.

Without hesitation, Chuumon leaps out of Mimi's arms, taking Piemon's knife to his chest. Chuumon falls prone on the ground, the knife disintegrating as quickly as it appeared. Weeping, Mimi scoops him back up in her arms.

Mimi: Chuumon! You have to hold on! Chuumon: Mimi-chan... When I reincarnate... Go on a date with me.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

With that utterly inappropriate yet entirely in-character bit of emotional blackmail, Chuumon disintegrates into pixels and joins his friend Scumon in death.

(So far as we know, she does not honor his last request, nor should she.)

The dub cuts the shot where the knife plunges into Chuumon, but keeps the shot of Chuumon falling to the ground with the knife stabbed into him.

Mimi: Chuumon! Speak to me, you poor thing! Chuumon: Mimi... It's time for me... to be deleted.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

His last request doesn't make it in; No surprise there. But they pull no punches about the fact that Chuumon definitely and without question died violently.

Someone, however, is not impressed by Chuumon's sacrifice.

Piemon: What a stupid Digimon. There's no reason to protect each other when you're all going to die here anyway. Taichi: We won't let you get away with this! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piemon: So, who's next?

Before he can pick his next target, another old friend suddenly cuts in.

Piccolomon's Pit Bomb does no damage whatsoever but flashbangs the Dark Masters, allowing him to make off with the Chosen Children. He carries them to safety within a cloaked invisibility sphere.

Takeru: Piccolomon! We were hoping to see you again! Piccolomon: So was I pi! Koushiro: You were able to reach us by creating a barrier that the enemy couldn't see? Piccolomon: That's right pi! Taichi: Piccolomon, we made it this way believing that as long as the eight of us were together, we could save both worlds. But-- Piccolomon: It's true that the eight of you are together pi but that alone isn't enough to win pi. Sora: What are we missing? Jou: Tell us! Piccolomon: (somberly) Unfortunately, we don't have time for that pi.

A wave of energy suddenly hits the barrier. What little time Piccolomon's trick bought them has run its course.

In the dub:

Piedmon: Chuumon was a fool!

The dub inserts a commercial break after Chuumon's death, then we return and watch him die again.

Mimi: T_T Oh, Chuumon! Piedmon: So, now that he's out of the way, who would like to be the next one to make their grand exit? Tai: Piedmon, you're gonna be washed up when we're through with you! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piedmon: Be my guest. Piximon: PIT BOMB!!! (Piximon takes the kids and bails) T.K.: Hey, Piximon! Perfect timing! Piximon: I missed ya! Izzy: Prodigious! You cleverly used a barrier to avoid detection. Piximon: I sure did! Tai: But you said it was possible to save the planet if the eight of us were all together! How come it's not happening, huh? What's up, Piximon!? Piximon: The truth is, being together is not enough. There's something else that you need to do to beat 'em. Sora: How are we going to find out if you won't help? Joe: Yeah, enough riddles! Piximon: This is something you will discover on your own.

The dub's gotten its wires crossed about the plot again. Piximon never said anything about the eight of them; His episode was well behind us when the Eighth Child plot point was introduced. Tai's beef should, as always, be with Gennai.

In the original, Piccolomon's like "Look you need more than just being physically present but I don't have time to explain because we are seconds away from getting murdered."

Piximon, on the other hand, is being cryptic for funsies.

Pursuing Piccolomon's invisibility shimmer, the Dark Masters gain ground. There is no escape.

MetalSeadramon: Found you. Piccolomon: I'm going to stop them pi! Make your way to Spiral Mountain while I hold them off pi! Yamato: You're going to stop them!? They're all Ultimate-stage! Piccolomon: I know that pi! Even if I can't win, I can still put up a fight pi! Taichi: I'll fight with you! Piccolomon: ARE YOU STUPID!? You're the last hope for the world pi!

MetalSeadramon hits Piccolomon's barrier with a direct shot from his Ultimate Stream. Piccolomon waits and lets the barrier absorb MetalSeadramon's shot, then emerges to fight the Dark Masters.

Piccolomon: I'm sure you can find pi what you're missing! When you do, you'll be unstoppable pi! Now go, Chosen Children!

Piccolomon smacks the barrier with his spear, sending it flying off much faster than before.

In the dub:

MetalSeadramon: Aha! Here you are! Eheheheheheha! Piximon: I'll try to stop them. Meanwhile, make a run for it and climb to the top of Spiral Mountain. But you better move it! Matt: You can't stop them! They're all Mega Digimon! Piximon: I know I can't win, but I should be able to distract them long enough for you to get away! Tai: I'll stay with you! Piximon: No way! Besides, we need you on Spiral Mountain; We're counting on you to beat 'em!

Though MetalSeadramon's nose beam went unnamed last time he used it, this time he calls the attack.

MetalSeadramon: RIVER OF POWER!!! (MetalSeadramon blasts the barrier bubble) Piximon: (emerges) Please go now. You have a very important task ahead of you. Once you succeed, no one will ever be able to stop you again. I know you will make me proud of you!

Strong parting words for what will be their final meeting.

As an aside, I love the name "River of Power". That is a fantastic "not-touching-you" name-like to Ultimate Stream. Well punned.

Sad that we lose Piccolomon calling Taichi a moron to his face. "I'm gonna sacrifice myself for you." "And I'll help you do--" "NO."

No sooner has Piccolomon sent the Children away than he hears Piemon call out to him.

Piemon: Piccolomon, is it? Do you honestly believe that you, a Perfect-stage, could win against us? Piccolomon: Say whatever you want pi!

From the barrier bubble, the children see a bright flash of light illuminate the coliseum once more.

Hikari: Piccolomon is dead. Narrator: After paying a heavy sacrifice, the children finally arrive at Spiral Mountain. But their fight with the Dark Masters has only just begun.

Boy, what a fun and joyous final adventure we've embarked on!

The dub changes things up here. They add some silence breakers as the bubble flies away.

Matt: He's stronger than he looks! Gabumon: He'll have to be!

Then they cut straight to the final shot of everyone watching from the barrier.

Kari: Do you think it's possible he can do it? Gabumon: I don't know, Kari! I hope so!

From there, we cut back to Piximon confronting the Dark Masters.

Piximon: Rrrgh! Piedmon: How can such a powerless Digimon even think about defeating us, hmm!? Piximon: Just call me a crazy little Digimon! Narrator: Will Piximon hold off the Dark Masters long enough for the DigiDestined to reach Spiral Mountain? Watch the next Digimon: Digital Monsters.

The explosion that indicated Piximon's death has been cut, as has the shot of the kids' bubble arriving at Spiral Mountain. But don't worry, they're planning to remix the shit out of this last scene at the start of the next episode. We'll see what became of Piximon; You just got to wait a week with hope and anticipation in your heart before coming back to watch him brutally die.

Weird choice but okay.

Assessment: I remembered this arc being dark but I forgot how quickly it gets dark. Remember the "goofy" harassers from File Island THEY FUCKING DIED. But don't worry, the virtuous trainer who helped Taichi figure his shit out is here and he ALSO FUCKING DIED.

To set the tone, this episode is a bloodbath right out of the starting gate. They want you to know that nobody outside our core eight is safe anymore. This is war and people are going to die.

The dub keeps up and handles itself pretty well. It even manages to keep up with the darkening tone using euphemistic language but refraining from talking around the deaths happening onscreen. Yes, that includes Piximon's, even if they did kick it out to next episode.

Even down to the execution scene, there's none of that "Capture them, put them in a cage!" stuff that previous arcs would have employed. "Who would like to make their grand exit?" is flowery but unambiguous in its meaning, especially after explicitly killing someone onscreen.

We're in for a fucking ride.

[pinievsev]

Hi ~✨ its luck that I found you (or you found me, I have seen your repost to my post) and can you, please make one-shot with Kent, where the reader, being an alien, comes to the Academy and everyone is interested in her (I mean in them) (because there were no aliens at the academy before) and attracts the attention of Kent, after which they begin to be friends and fall in love with each other?

Aye I just woke up but just because it's you my friend I'll get to writing :]

And here we are with another Kent oneshot! Woo! Iove this idea! I won't use the stereotypical description of aliens, I'll give them antennas and black eyes tho(the pupils). And heightened sense :]

NEW STUDENT!

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GIF by me again:]

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Pairing: Kent (last name unknown) X!alien!new student reader.

Warnings: swearing maybe, kissing at the end, kinda slow burn? (Might do a part two)

Synopsis: when a student of new species joins Nevermore Academy, it peaks the interest of a certain long haired siren.

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You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous, principle Weems had told you you were the first ever alien in the academy, which didn't really help, now you may be wondering how you are there? Well let's see.

Some thousand years ago, your planet was attacked by another alien species, so your what you thought were called "ancestors" had to leave, and they ended up here. Your species has changed over the years, their funny colored skin Changing into that of beige or dark brown, their fully black eyes now matching the ones of the humans the black only staying in the middle surrounded by white, their antennas however, stayed. They allowed you to catch sounwaves, hear things further than you should be able to, and move things around.

They had made you a special uniform, lined with very dark green instead of the traditional purple, psh, stereotypes again. You had however also learned that, you wouldn't be the only one joining Nevermore late, there was this girl, Wednesday her name was?, Her uniform was black, and so seemed to be the rest of her. You liked it, she was different like you, but in her own way. Weems led you to your dorm room, your roommate was a vampire by the name of Yoko Tanaka.

Weems knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately, "hello, ms. Tanaka, I'd like to introduce you to someone" she moved aside "this is Y/n L/n, the first alien of the academy, and your new roommate" she said taking a breath "would be kind a give them a tour?" Yoko stared at you and her smile widened revealing her fangs, "omg! Of course I will!" She pulled you inside the room closing the door on Weems face.

"So you're an alien?!" She asked eyes wide "yup, that's me" you said "ooo cool! From which planet?" That you didn't know "oh, my species has been on earth for thousands of years, I don't really know." She nodded "okay okay! Let's start the tour!" She said excitedly pulling you along.

Around the end of the tour she pulled you to a small courtyard "this is the quad!" (Did I spell that right? Idk! :Sobbing in greek:) she started pointing to random people introducing them, eh, for them.. "and those are the scales, they're the sirens, that's Bianca their so called leader, that right there is Divina and next to her is her twin brother Kent" you stared at Kent, a little longer than you should've and he saw you, the second he did his eyes widened and he turned to tell his sister. Yoko however, pulled you away.

"don't mind them, they're a little, straight forward some times" she said "it's alright, I'm kind of used to it" you admitted "right... That's basically all you need to know for the school and if you need something just ask me" she smiled and you nodded "alright! Thanks Yoko!" "No problem!" She waved running off to her friends.

'lets see, what could I do?' you thought walking to the side sitting down you rested your back against the wall and closed your eyes. This all was hard to take in, you were scared you might not fit in. Suddenly, you heard footsteps followed by a female voice "hi!" You looked up to see too girls, Wednesday and a girl with blonde hair dyed with pink and blue at the ends. You got up and dusted yourself off "hey!" You replied and she looked at you excitedly "you look so cool! I love your eyes!" You smiled "thanks! Your hair looks nice!" You complimented back. "I'm Enid and this is Wednesday! She's also new here!" You nodded "nice to meet you Enid, and Wednesday!" Wednesday just gave you a nod. You and Enid became friends quickly, and maybe a little with wednesday.. you weren't sure. Even tho Enid was alot more outgoing than you, she was a great friend.

You'd been at Nevermore for a month already, you mainly hang out with Enid, Wednesday and Ajax. Xavier too sometimes. You've been trying to help Wednesday with the whole "monster in the woods" thing but, unlike her you focused on your friendships aswell. Lately you've been noticing a certain siren looking at you, even tho you doubt it's for any good.

Right now you were in your dorm room when you heard a knock "coming!" You yelled getting up to open a door, to your surprise Kent was standing outside "hi?" You asked "hey, look before you close the door in my face, listen!" You nodded "go on" "alright, the thing Is I think you're cool, okay? And I was wondering if you'd want to be friends?" This surprised you even more "you... Want to be friends?" He nodded "I mean, sure" you smiled starting to warm up to him already.

You and Kent started spending more time together, making sure no one knew, considering Bianca didn't like you. It was a three days before the rave'n now, everyone was talking about it. Wednesday wasn't going, and Enid was trying to make Ajax jealous after he stood her up. You had just finished your last class of the day with Ms. Thornhill and were on your way to the quad when someone pulled you behind a pillar "wha-!" You stopped talking when you saw Kent "oh god you scared me" you breathed and he laughed "sorry, I just wanted to ask you something" you nodded signaling for him to ask the question "do you uh, maybe want to go to the rave'n with me?.." you smiled "of course I do!" "Really?!" You nodded "yup!" "Great! I'll pick you up right before it starts sounds good?" "Yeah sounds great".

"okay!" Enid screamed "we have to get you something to wear!!" You gulped "alright...".

It took sometime but you actually liked what Enid found for you (up to you <3) "it's not half bad!" You smiled up at her "thanks! Enid!" She smiled "of course! It looks really good on ya!".

You paced up and down your dorm, Yoko had already left to find her 'date' what Id he doesn't show up??.. just then you heard a knock on the door and ran to open it. "Hi! Sorry if I took too long- wow you look- great!" he apologized "it's okay! Really and thanks, you don't look too bad yourself" "right let's go!" You nodded and left your room closing the door behind you. You walked with Kent to the rave'n, he seemed nervous the whole time. You were dancing around drinking what they called a 'yeti-tini' and overall had fun. You were standing in the crowd talking when something started to pour from the fire sprinklers. Weems started screaming and everyone followed, panicked you grabbed Kent's hand and pulled him out as fast as you could. "Phew" you breathed out, panting, "what the fuck-" he said catching his breath "I don't know..." He nodded and then seemed to realise something.

His head snapped up and he looked at you "are you okay?? Did you get hurt or something-?" You cut him off "I'm fine, are you-?" He nodded "yeah, yeah I'm okay" you nodded back, well this just got akward. Out of nowhere you burst out laughing "what?-" he said chuckling along "what is it?" "We are standing outside covered in red paint like idiots, that's what" he started laughing along yet suddenly got quiet "hey uhm..." You looked up "yeah?" "I don't know if this is the right time but.." he took a step forward looking straight into your eyes "can i- you know.." you understood immediately "yeah... Yeah of course" hearing that he wasted no time to bring you closer and kiss you, you of course kissed back, pulling away he chuckled "I wanted to do that for some time" "you should've"

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Siren man least goo! I actually really like this one tysm for the request, anything for a fellow Kent lover <3

Tag list: @day-dream1231 , @georgi-salva , @arson-the-royal , @falleni0-hq , @mindflay3r , @rottenstyx , @alice0blog , @nova-lov3su , @elduster , @countsmoon , @biggestsimponhere , @andreeasancheez , @justmanu , @whitewingsh , @hwrtsiren

[spectre-writes]

Okay, so… Trigun Stampede thoughts. All 3.3k of them. Goes without saying this will include stampede spoilers, but there will also be some spoilers for trimax and the og anime too. And there will be some critique, but understand that’s coming from a place of love (because I do love the show), but if you’re someone who just can’t deal with people critiquing things you like then uh maybe pass?

I’ll preface this by saying that I never watched the og anime back in the day. I think I tried to watch the first episode a few years back because everyone went on about it being a classic, but I just didn’t vibe with it so I gave up. So for me, there was never any nostalgia involved in my perspective on the show and on stampede as an adaptation. I watched stampede first… well, the episodes that were out at the time, and for some reason my brain just latched onto it. I then watched the og anime in its entirety, read the whole manga, and then watched the remaining stampede episodes as they came out.

Visually, stampede is stunning. I know a lot of people are ‘eh’ about CG but it was pulled off really well, the action is so fluid and the characters are still very expressive. The og anime was a product of its time - it felt very static by comparison, and the fight scenes just weren’t as intense. Some of the wacky faces and things were cool but overall I feel like stampede was a glow up in the visual department.

The tone is definitely darker than the og anime, but I think it’s still not as dark as the manga gets… whether that will change in season 2 we’ll have to see. It did strike me as odd that stampede seems to pulls its punches in some places? Like when Knives makes his grand appearance, at the end of that episode we get a shot where Gofsef and his dad are both bandaged and alive, which was weird? Because Nebraska was screaming about how EG killed his son? Like… did he just never bother to go check? Narratively it’s a strange choice considering they’ve both served their purpose by the end of episode and it feels like the writers both want to punish Vash emotionally for those he failed to save, but also leave them alive?

Same goes for Tonis to a degree… it would have been even more heart wrenching if they had died (especially for Meryl), and it’s not like the show doesn’t do horrible things to children at other points… Knives was just cutting a lot of arms off that episode I guess. But overall, the darker tone works for me - I like that sort of thing, though I get why fans of the old show might miss many of the more lighthearted elements. 

There are quite a few changes from the manga/og anime to stampede, some of which I really like, some I’m less sure about. Guess I'll use bulletpoints for this.

Removing the whole 'Vash creeping on women' thing was absolutely needed, that trope can go die, thank you.

I love how they really leaned into the whole ‘millions knives’ thing and just… gave him a million knives. Made him feel so much more threatening as a villain than he did in the og anime, and fits with the abilities he shows off later in the manga. 

Changing his original name from Knives to Nai (Kni?) makes way more sense than calling a child Knives too.

I’m personally fine with them changing Merly to a reporter and adding Roberto - the insurance girl thing seems a bit silly for the tone they’re going for in stampede, and as it’s also a prequel it gives her room to grow into the character she is after the events of July. And since we know we’re getting Milly in season two I don’t consider ‘no Milly’ a valid complaint.

I don’t mind the changes to Elendira, it’s a way to explain her powers and I think with the timeskip there’s a very real chance we’ll see her more like her manga counterpart in season 2, and I appreciate what they’re trying to do with the whole plant experimentation thing. Like… Knives wanting to wipe out all humans and start a paradise kind of falls flat on its face as a concept when you consider that he and Vash are the only independent plants, and also no one seems to know how to make new plants. Like… their sisters are still going to have to live in containers and as a species they’re a dead end. Him and Conrad looking into solutions to this (for different reasons since Conrad thinks it’s possibly a way for humans to continue as hybrids and Knives only cares about plants) gives the impression that he’s thought things through a bit harder. 

I think some of the changes to Vash and Knives’s relationship are good - I love how in this version, Knives cuts his arm off not just because he’s angry and being a dick about it, but because Vash opened his gate with no control and could accidentally kill them all. He’s trying to save him. You get a real sense that he still cares about Vash… you can see the pain on his face when Vash points his gun at him. 

The choice to split them up earlier too rather than have Vash follow him around for years before they split allows them time to build up their own lives, and when they clash it’s because they have both been pulled in different directions. 

I’m fine with them giving Vash and Knives more distinct personalities as children, with Knives being more quiet and withdrawn and Vash being more outgoing and boisterous… but I do wish they’d left in stuff about how Knives was initially just as hopeful about humanity as Vash was? Like… in the manga, at least, he really wanted humans to be their friends, he wanted to be loved and accepted by them too… part of the tragedy of him is that he wasn’t always the way he is. So it would have been cool to see that.

As for ship 3… I think them first picking up Vash works fine, as again, it gives him a chance to grow apart from Knives and see something good worth protecting again. I’m less sure about Brad and Luida being there? And then also being there 150 years later? Like I get that they want to give Vash a sense of family, but I think what stood out to me about ship 3 was that Vash’s attachment to it isn’t just because of two parental figures… Vash is old. He’s not human. He’s watched generations of these people grow old and die, and he’s loved and cared for their children, and their children’s children. They’re this big community that he loves, and he knows all their names and remembers them all, but he’s never… quite one of them in the same way. Which is kind of the tragedy of being Vash. I would have loved if after the sand steamer episodes, when Vash wakes up there’s a couple of people who look like Brad and Luida there to greet him… but no one mentions their names, and there’s something just… a little off about it, little quirks that aren’t the same… and then it clicks. We get dropped the truth - that that’s not Brad and Luida, that’s their grandchildren. Vash outlived them. He’s 150 years old, he’s always going to outlive humans and that’s just something he has to accept.  It also would have been nice to see more of the other people living on ship 3, especially to set up a part from the manga/og anime which I really, really hope will be adapted. Like… Vash has to see these people that he loves so much just… fall apart in his arms. Families, adults he’s watched grow from infancy, children, everyone… For stampede they now either have the option of killing Brad and Luida that way, or trying to squeeze in some time with the ship 3 peeps in the second season so that their deaths have an impact, when they could have just done the leg work in this season. But hey that’s probably a problem with the limited number of episodes.

Back to other changes… I think introducing Livio that early was a good call, so he doesn’t come out of nowhere later. 

But I do feel like we should have seen more of Legato given the big part he’s supposed to play later (if they follow the manga). He kinda just disappeared after the sand steamer episodes.

I’m… still not sure how I feel about them revealing the whole SEEDs ship thing and Knives part in the crash so early on. I think it was done with intent - stampede (the first season at least) only has 12 episodes to make things happen, so they need to cover stuff fast. For me… while maintaining the mystery for longer was cool, the og anime was too slow. There was a lot of filler and stuff before we even got to the main plot points and honestly if I hadn’t seen stampede I would have given up on it. I think what I would have liked would be some kind of middle ground? Like… something between the two which lets you uncover the mystery but still feeds you enough that you know there’s something there and can begin piecing it together.

Getting to see the July incident as it happens was obviously a change, and I’m on the side about that one too… like… Vash kind of knowing that he completely destroyed a city but having no memory of it and trying to figure out what happened and that being part of his journey? I feel like we won’t get that, because Meryl and Wolfwood can just tell him what happened. It’s not going to hang over him in the same way. 

And on that subject, I think they really, really needed to dedicate some time to just… showing people living in July? In the manga, when Vash regains his memory of destroying July, part of why it’s so traumatic is because he spent several days living there, talking to the people there… seeing their kindness, glimpsing that community, getting to be a part of that briefly… and he just erases all those smiling faces in the blink of an eye. In stampede we only see some military police who shot Vash and tried to capture him, and one noodle seller who none of the main gang interacts with. I just… think July would have so much more impact if we’d had an episode dedicated to them spending time there first… This also means we probably won’t get Vash accidentally mindblasting the event into Meryl’s brain (because she was there anyway and Vash never connected with the people in the city), which personally I think is a shame…

Last change that stands out to me is that Vash's use of the angel arm is fully intentional in this adaptation. I’m on the fence on this? On one hand, it’s needed, because Vash has been fairly passive for a lot of this show, and horrible things just happen to him, so for him to have some agency and sort of win a fight makes for a more satisfying climax? On the other hand, the horror of Kives forcing him to manifest the arm against his will and him not being able to control that part of himself is sort of gone? We do still get the creepy sort-of-rape buisness with Knives making him uhh… do that to the other plants and go all black and viney, but it’s different? It’s… yeah, I dunno. Makes me wonder if they’re going to do anything with the 5th moon incident and all that, seeing as it’s strange for Vash to seemingly have so much more control over his abilities and still get made to basically cause the same catastrophe twice… It would feel less satisfying happening a second time around if he just does the same thing we saw during July and tries to blast the energy into space? So on one hand I like it and on the other hand I don’t, if that makes sense?

Moving on from changes, I think the show could have also benefited from some stuff that was skipped/missing. Some of this would have resulted in better pacing, better characterisation, or fill a few plot holes that go ignored. I guess the best way for me to cover this is to go in order of episodes?

So, I’m fine with the start, but maybe there should have been one more episode between Wolfwood’s introduction and the sand steamer episodes. We get the one with Rollo, but I think one more to cement his place in the group would have been nice. I also think the sand steamer event should have had one more episode. A lot of the two we get is filled with flashbacks, and while I love those (and the style they’re done in) it means that there’s less time to cover events happening in the present. The badlads gang just… kind of shows up, gets punched down by Vash, and disappears again… they don’t serve much of a purpose. Having an extra episode for them to be more of a threat, and Vash (and maybe Roberto and Meryl) having to deal with that would be more satisfying (for me at least). And if we want to stick a little closer to the source material, then Vash dealing with the badlad’s gang leader could result in him helping them (maybe with the canon this time? Because two people pushing it up is silly, not gonna lie I had to suspend my disbelief for that). So yeah, that would be my first major change.

Then I still have an issue with how it’s never explained how Vash gets from the plant room on the sand steamer to ship 3. Did he call them? Do they have some kind of ‘Vash is in danger’ sensor that alerted them he was in trouble? How did they convince Meryl and Wolfwood and Roberto to let them take him?

I would, if I could, add another episode after the flashback one which shows Vash getting picked up, and then gives us a little more time on ship 3. Time to see the people there, get a sense of the community that lives there… I also think we could have actually seen Meryl and Roberto getting kidnapped, because that happening offscreen was weird. 

As I mentioned before, another episode to better flesh out July is needed. And I think I would maybe add another episode so that we could have some more time on flashbacks… specifically, there’s events from the manga that I feel were too briefly touched upon in stampede to have their full effect. 

I am, of course, talking mostly about Tesla… In a lot of ways, she’s the turning point for the twins. Before then, they were both hopeful about humanity and wanted to be accepted by them. But after Tesla… they break down. 

Following the manga, Knives and Vash lock themselves away for days. When Rem finally gets to them, Knives ends up in a coma. Vash wakes up first, and faced with the reality of what humans did to his older sister… he tries to kill himself. Just grabs the knife and goes for it. Rem stops him by grabbing the blade, and Vash ends up stabbing her. And there’s this moment… a brief moment, when Vash seems happy with what he’s done… before it all comes crashing down and he realizes what he’s done, how that’s not what he wants, and he drops the knife and patches Rem up.

When she wakes up again, they have a conversation. She tells him about her depression following her partner’s death, and how she had a dream where she was handed a blank train ticket. And she was happy because it could take her anywhere. And after that, she joined the SEEDS project, which led her to meeting Vash and Knives. She tells Vash that everyone deserves that blank ticket.

This is a really important moment for him, because I think that’s where he solidifies his ideals. The idea that people all deserve the chance to start fresh. The idea that killing isn’t okay because it robs people of that chance, and also dying isn’t okay because of his promise to her… 

Stampede touches on it briefly with Vash telling Luida and Brad that he wanted them to leave him there to die, but I think the manga touches on it much more closely. Vash has… tried to kill himself as a child. And I think, at times, he would quite like to die as an adult too (because he goes through so much suffering). But he doesn’t, because he has so much to do and people to protect and he promised Rem… and ugh, it hurts, but he still has that blank ticket. And sometimes, he still finds joy in the world, and those little moments mean a lot…

And we’ve seen that Vash is capable of lashing out too. He stabbed Rem. But in the same way that Knives used to be as loving of humanity as Vash, Vash had the same capacity to strike as his brother… 

Now, Knives… when he wakes up, he says he remembers nothing (idk if that’s actually true it’s very possible he was lying). They tell him about Tesla. He pretends everything is fine, but he quietly plots to take down the ships, and we get a panel of him biting at his hand while he works… you get an idea that he’s super anxious. He’s afraid. He’s so afraid of what humans could do to him and his brother, and that’s what motivates him. Not just hate or betrayal, but a deep, visceral fear he won’t admit to. I feel like stampede didn’t quite hit the mark there… 

We might get a closer look at the events around Tesla in a season 2… it’s implied (?) in stampede that Knives might have absorbed what was left of her (which is a departure from the source, but also sets up/hints at later major plot points). But we’ll see.

On the whole I think the pacing of the very last episode was fine. And they’ve set some stuff up for season two (Milly confirmed)!

Moving into season two there’s going to be changes to the source again, but I am super glad we’ll be getting to stuff that the og anime never had a chance to adapt. One thing I am curious about is Wolfwood… seeing as in stampede, he’s already betrayed Vash and handed him over to Knives and cut his ties (?) to the Eye of Michael. So, this time around, I’m guessing his motive for tracking down Vash is going to be either personal, or he is invested in stopping Knives or the Eye of Michael and wants to find Vash because Vash could help… 

I also wonder how much of his memory Vash has lost… and are we going to get the darkening hair effect? Please say we still get the 5th moon incident? Can we have more body horror pretty please? Are they aiming for a different ending from the manga or are they going to play that the same? I… kind of, really want a scene of Vash and Knives actually reconciling this time and maybe playing piano together… 

So yeah… that’s… kind of my thoughts for the moment, as best I can put them. I really enjoyed stampede! I think it has some flaws but I’m so glad to have been pulled into the Trigun universe and experience these characters and I am very excited for what comes next. 

[alarawriting]

52 Project #53: After The Chicken Story

And here it is, the bonus story, a sequel to the one I started this project with.

*********

Things have been kind of crazy around here the last few years, not just because of the pandemic, but there’s been a lot going on. Gotta say that mostly, those years haven’t been real great for us. Lots of changes, some good, some bad, some eh, but that’s life, right?

So my oldest daughter went to college to become a marine biologist, and now she’s on an expedition to study the Kraken in the harbor. Gotta say I didn’t expect it. Not because she didn’t show any interest in marine biology, she was crazy for it when she was young, but because every girl around here seemed to want to grow up to be a marine biologist, kind of like every girl when I was growing up wanted to work with horses. Except my wife, she’s terrified of them. Most of the kids who wanted to be marine biologists did not end up that way, but my daughter’s working on a master’s degree in it. Wants to do all this stuff with conservation and the Bay. Which, I guess, the Kraken  lives in the Bay and if we piss it off enough by dumping crap in its home territory so there’s no food for it, it might burn the city down again, so there’s a good conservation argument for you.

My oldest son, the ninja, has actually left the country; he’s gone to Japan to study under ninja masters at some ninja school. Either that, or break into working for Nintendo, because what he really wants in life is to make video games. Being a ninja isn’t a profession for him, it’s a way of life. I miss the kid, he never writes home. Would it kill him to drop us a note on Discord? But it sounds like he’s happy, which is the important thing.

And my younger son has a web comic going. Well, it’s not exactly a web comic, more like one of those mixed media things where he’s got comic pages and audio files and animations and mini-games and all that kind of stuff, about, supposedly, a fictionalized version of himself going into the tunnel under the road and traveling to the Underworld. It’s like, Dante’s Inferno as rewritten by Gen Z. Not literally Dante’s Inferno, I think he’s only ever read the Wikipedia article about it, but similar concept. Surprisingly, it’s mostly a dark comedy. I haven’t asked him if any of it is true, because I don’t want to know.

My youngest kid’s not doing nearly as well, since we brought back her timeshadow from the moon. I never took her seriously when she used to say she had a clone on the moon; turns out that, while a timeshadow is technically not a clone, she did actually have a copy of herself up on the moon. (Nowhere near my family’s barbeque grill. I’m starting to think I’ll never see that thing again.) The thing about timeshadows is, if your timeshadow touches you, it merges into you and then you have all of its memories, but if it had problems, you probably got them too. And living on the Moon for most of your life is not good for timeshadows any more than for regular humans, so when they merged, my kid got frail and weak – not as bad as someone who’d lived on the Moon their whole life, in the weak gravity, but worse off than she was. She didn’t get any taller, though. The timeshadow had shot up like a string bean, side effect of Lunar gravity, but when they merged, my kid got the deficits and not the benefits.

I wish it hadn’t happened and part of me regrets bringing the kid back from the moon, but the thing about a timeshadow is, it’s not entirely real, but it has thoughts and feelings just like the real human it’s a copy of, so what was I gonna do? Leave someone who is essentially my daughter up on the Moon without family? My daughter has lost enough of her childhood memories that she no longer has any idea how the timeshadow got on the Moon or why she even had a timeshadow, and the daycare she used to go to is out of business, so I don’t think there’s any way I can find out.

Things got kind of bad for my wife, too. The last time I talked about things, it ended up looking like we were going to buy our annoying neighbor’s house after my wife harassed her into leaving the neighborhood. Well, that didn’t happen, because my wife lost her job, and then ended up with breast cancer. They had to take them off. She looked into getting breast missiles but the damn things are too hard to reload, so she got pockets instead. Now if she really wants to keep something safe, she can stick it in her boob, not just in her bra. I always thought that those things were only for drug smugglers, but my wife wants to be able to go to the beach by herself and keep her credit cards and ID on her person when she goes in the water, and apparently she can seal up the pockets to be waterproof. So far evidence suggests she’s cancer free and the thing never made it out of her breasts, and that’s good, so things could be worse. The people who did buy the annoying neighbor’s house are nice folks, a Hispanic family where the father works in some kind of industrial chemistry as a scientist… I think. At least, he’s got some crazy shit in his swimming pool.

And then, my idiot boyfriend let the Fae know his true name. He’s a trans dude and very proud of the name he picked. He wasn’t going to go deadnaming himself when the Fae dude he met asked if he could have his name. So now his paperwork is not going through, and some stupid thing keeps happening every time he tries to legally change his name, because apparently the Fae now own his name. He’s considered changing it to a different name, but once you start to think about yourself as a name, that’s apparently your True Name. So he could maybe solve the issue of the paperwork, but he can’t solve the problem that fairies know his name and keep calling him. Sometimes he tries to sleepwalk straight out of the house; we’ve found him in the middle of the street in a fugue state, or talking to people we couldn’t see. My wife’s been trying to help him with the paperwork, but since she’s had her own battles to fight, it hasn’t worked so well.

We still have chickens. But now we also have a 2 dimensional dog, a cockatoo who works tech support, and approximately seventeen cats. I can’t really keep track of them all. They’ve cleared out the rat population, which is good, because Orion the assassin cat has been getting up in years and isn’t quite as murderous as he used to be, but they break out into two clans and the clans feud like the Hatfields and McCoys. We’re not at war with the city over the chickens anymore; now it’s the yard. Mostly about the Fae circles, but also about mowing the lawn, which, you try mowing over a Fae circle. And tell me how it went, fifty years when you pop back into reality, if you ever do.

Anyway, this story isn’t about the chickens, or not nearly so much as the last story was. It’s more of an explanation of why things ended up the way they did.

So first off, work. Now, I’ve been working from home from before it was cool; got my own IT company, works with Amazon Web Services helping other businesses deal with them. When my wife lost her job, she started working here as well, which was just as well because then when she got cancer, she could get all the time off for chemo and stuff that she needed. A year or so later, when the news about the pandemic first hit, business was jumping. Everybody wanted to get into the cloud and not have to come into the office anymore.

Huh, actually, no, that’s not where it starts. Let’s start with the two dimensional dog.

So my youngest kid really wanted a two dimensional dog. They’re pretty rare, on account of being two dimensional. You ever hear of a paper tiger, well, this is a paper dog. They’re not really two dimensional, but something about, most of their mass is phased into a different dimension and we can only see the part of them that intersects with this plane? They can be very intimidating because you look at this dog, you think, goddamn that is one skinny dog, and then it comes up to you with its jaws hanging open, panting, and it looks like a smile. A giant smile. A giant, very toothy, very scary smile. This is a dog you want to keep happy because you don’t know what it will do if it’s not happy. They’re very tall, and very long, and very very skinny, but the mass is there, as you can tell when the dog jumps up on you.

Ours came from Russia. Well, her parents came from Russia. Well, her ancestors. We’re not really sure when it was that Russia engineered two dimensional dogs, but we know that when the Soviet Union fell, people over there started selling these dogs to the US because they were weird, and rich people love weird, and Russians after the collapse of Communism really wanted the money. Then some people who probably weren’t all that rich spent too much money on the dogs so they could look richer than they were, and ended up having to sell off puppies for a lot less than they wanted when the dot com boom busted. My daughter wanted one ever since she heard about them. She was super into science and math, and the idea of a two dimensional dog really appealed to her.

My wife’s ex used to have one he got from a rescue, but we went looking for the rescue and found out it had to shut down after they accidentally accepted a Hound of Tindalos, and you know how that goes. So we had to buy our dog. Her name’s Svetlana and she will do anything to get some peanut butter, regular butter, cheese, potato chips… you know, anything you might imagine your teenagers would clean you out of. Being that she’s two dimensional, she will absolutely slip through any crack in a door you leave, including the fridge door if you don’t shut it all the way. We’ve lost so much butter that way.

Now, Svetlana loves cats. Loves cats. Before we got her fixed, she loved them in a kind of not-entirely-PG-rated way, but even after that, she really wants to play with cats. She is six times as tall as a cat. Cats do not want to play with her. At the time, we had three cats – Orion the mighty hunter/assassin cat, Odin the grumpy ancient man who our best guesses had at 24 years old then, and Tiamat, the tortie who thought she was human. Well, who at least thought she deserved to be able to get chicken out of the refrigerator and sit at the dinner table. They had their normal cat idiosyncrasies; Tiamat liked Rice Krispies but hated fish, Odin enjoyed sleeping in the litter box, and Orion liked to cross-dress. Well, not sure you can call it that since female cats don’t generally wear frilly doll dresses, either. But the kids – and my boyfriend -- thought it was fun to put dresses on him, and while the others would immediately divest themselves if you tried to make them wear anything, Orion seemed to enjoy his dresses. He’d even head-butt the kids if one of them was holding a doll dress, until the kid put the dress on him. None of these cats wanted anything to do with Lana.

Coincidentally, my boyfriend’s parents in Canada had a bunch of local feral cats who’d just had kittens. You see where this is going.

Sylph was a pretty little Siamese kitten who enjoyed playing with my boyfriend’s parents’ dog. We thought she’d make a good friend for Lana, and because she had a sister she was inseparable from, we didn’t want to separate them. So we ended up with Raven as well, a solid black cat who became the photographic subject of many memes about how the void wants chicken.

Lana, big dumb goofy nerd that she was, got too enthusiastic about playing with the kittens. The kittens didn’t appreciate it. Then the kittens turned into teenage female cats, at which point we discovered that Lana is actually a lesbian xenophile… ailurophile? You can’t call it bestiality when they’re all beasts. This was more than a little disturbing, and we all wanted to return to our illusions that our dog loved our cats in a wholesome friendly way, so we arranged to get them all fixed, Lana first.

And then Covid hit.

If you had pets you might remember that right after Covid started, the vets all turtled up, nothing but emergency appointments. Fixing animals was apparently not an emergency. Lana got done in time, but our little girls, not so much.

We did our best to keep them inside, but with all the secret tunnels in the basement, the rat warrens that come up in the laundry room, and the holes in reality that the wall squids made, we cannot in fact keep anything the size of a cat in, or out. I mean, cats can’t usually phase through walls, but they are one of the only animals on the planet fast enough to catch a wall squid, and if they tag the thing, they can often follow it right through its phase. Since they can’t actually enter the dimension the things come from, though, this generally leaves them outside whatever wall they were going through, which is fine when it’s the interior living room wall and not so great when it’s the wall covered with ivy outside. The only thing that keeps stranger cats from turning up in our house at random is ours are so damn territorial, and the only thing that keeps our cats in is nothing. Nothing can keep our cats in.

By the time we got Sylph and Raven rescheduled for their spays, they were both pregnant with kittens.

There are some vets that will abort kittens while spaying. Not the ones around here. Also they both had lots of them. Sylph had six, Raven had five. We have a tradition around here that kittens don’t get real names until they’re adults, they get temporary names. So Sylph’s six were Up, Down, Top, Bottom, Strange and Charmed, and Raven’s five were named after five members of Voltron, from the old series my wife grew up with, not the reboot. And she left out Sven. I think she forgot he existed.

As if this was not bad enough, Tiamat got pregnant. See, we’d never fixed her, because the one time we had an appointment, she managed to disappear, and she’d get fat and then thin again within weeks, not long enough to bring a pregnancy to term. We knew that her father and her brother were the same cat, so we figured she might have some kind of genetic abnormality preventing pregnancy. Nope! Or, maybe. Maybe she needed exposure to cat pregnancy pheromones to be able to bring a litter to term. She had four. We named them after the Three Musketeers plus D’Artagnan.

If you’re counting, you know that at this point, we had a total of twenty cats.

Meanwhile, we were hoarding food. Frozen and nonperishable, I’m not talking about stuff you have to refrigerate. We bought three new freezers (which took forever, because everyone else apparently had the same idea), filled them with meat (we hooked up with a butcher and got a whole cow, a whole pig, a whole emu, and a couple of deer), then filled our pantry and multiple bins with dry food. With Covid going on, we didn’t want to have to leave the house and go shopping any more than we had to. We even got dry milk. Which is disgusting, by the way, do not use it for your cereal, but it does tolerably well when the instant mashed potato box says to use milk to make mashed potatoes. We didn’t go full prepper with MREs and dehydrated food, but only because my boyfriend’s parents were preppers and he was able to advise us that that stuff tastes like shit.

Twenty cats produce a lot of cat poop. My boyfriend, whose job it was to clean the cat boxes, was frequently distracted by the Fae trying to call him. My wife and I were overwhelmed with work. My son the ninja helped out for a while, but then he got accepted to study under a ninja master. I thought there was no way he’d be able to go; we were in lockdown. Japan wasn’t accepting US citizens. Hell, Canada wasn’t; my boyfriend could go visit his parents because he was actually a Canadian citizen, but we were worried that he wouldn’t be able to come back, so he didn’t.

Ninjas, apparently, have resources that most ordinary Japanese citizens don’t. They came in a helicopter in the dead of night, and we only knew about it because he went to say goodbye to the chickens and woke them up and they started clucking, which set off the dog. We got outside in time to see my son disappear up the helicopter ladder, promising us, incorrectly, that he would write. You’d think ninjas wouldn’t use something as ostentatious as a chopper, but the truth is our city is lousy with choppers. Police choppers. News choppers. Medevac choppers. Elementary school bus choppers. Ghostbuster choppers. No one here blinks when they hear the sound of a helicopter overhead, and a blacked-out ninja helicopter looks exactly like a blacked-out police helicopter.

Since then we mostly hear about him through his brother, who does not have the level of detail sufficient to make my wife happy, but at least we know enough to know that his ninja cover is that he’s interning at Nintendo. Apparently ninjas do not really live in secret compounds where they dress all in black and train non-stop; the point of being a ninja is that you blend in, so ninjas get real jobs, and they’re plausible jobs that the ninja is good at doing. My son’s always wanted to make video games, so he’s in the best possible place, I think. I hope he’s doing well at learning Japanese, though. They only had French, German and Spanish in school and he somehow managed to skip out on learning any of them. I think the school decided that C++ counted as a language.

But this meant my son wasn’t around to help with the cats. My older daughter had moved out a while back while she was getting her degree, and she was living in her own apartment so she didn’t need to come back home for Covid like the college kids in the dorms did. My younger daughter hadn’t yet merged with her timeshadow, we didn’t retrieve her from the moon until the following year, but neither she nor my younger son were willing to be much help. Meanwhile, dry food, in bins, much of it in cardboard boxes that bugs can slip into, some of the bins chewable by mice. Plus, all the restaurants were closed, so the bugs and the mice and the rats all wanted to find someplace that still had food. And our house, as mentioned earlier, is porous to anything the size of a cat, or smaller.

First we had the plague of mealmoths, that infested everything we owned made of grain or nuts. We love nuts, and my wife is crazy for pasta, and we have rice, and cold cereal, and bread. The way you’re supposed to purge your house of mealmoths is throw out all your grains and don’t bring any in for two weeks. This was not happening. I wanted to build a cedar pantry, but a. very busy at work and b. not allowed to go to Home Depot, and not about to try to have expensive wood shipped to the house. The business was doing well, but not that well. I knew from my tunneling project and my attic renovation that if you need wood shipped to you, you end up having to buy way more of it than you need, which is why there are still piles and piles of lumber in my attic.

Instead we ordered tons and tons of jars and plastic cereal bins with bug-proof seals and stuff like that to store all our grains in, and my wife had to go through them all to identify what the bugs had already gotten to, and then throw bay leaves into all the containers. Apparently mealmoths hate bay leaves.

The dishwasher stopped working. By now, we could get repair people again, but the repair guy said that the wires underneath the thing had been shredded by mice, and he didn’t know how to fix that. We tried getting a warranty repair. Turns out warranty repairs don’t cover shredded by mice.

So we got a new dishwasher, and I stashed the old one in the garage, figuring I might be able to repair it once I had some spare time. Twenty cats managed to clean out the rats before they even got a foothold, but apparently they had been slacking when it came to dealing with the mice. It was understandable, given that most of those cats were kittens and three of the cats who weren’t kittens were occupied raising kittens. Odin was too old and there was only so much Orion could do by himself.

The world outside basically stopped. My daughter didn’t go to her middle school graduation, didn’t attend the school she’d been so enthusiastic about going to for high school, and then by the time they opened the schools again she was too fragile to walk around the school building. We tried to get her into a program where she’d get to still be attending school from home, but the school did not understand how a timeshadow merge could possibly have made her too weak to go to school, and they refused. Meanwhile, my son just stopped going to high school, basically marking time until he turned 18 and could drop out, working on his web comic. And me and my wife worked from home, and my boyfriend was on disability and didn’t work anyway, plus you really can’t work when the Fae are trying to summon you and you have to hide out from them. So nobody ever left the house. My wife would go out for groceries, when we weren’t doing Instacart or when she needed to pick up stuff for my home improvement projects, but aside from that, nobody went anywhere. Not even the yard; my wife used to garden, but we were busy, plus, Fae circles. No one wants to risk stepping in one of those.

When there’s no routine, when nobody has to leave and nobody has school and the people who have a job are working pretty much all the time, time disappears. I’d look up from my PC and find an entire month had gone by. It seemed like this was a bit much even for the liminal timelessness of no routines, and then we found the infestation of time flies. Fuckers love fruit. You know the saying, time flies like a banana, but we had a peach tree and apple trees and a mulberry bush and grapevines and tomatoes all over the place, and this apparently attracted the time flies, who then moved into the house after we killed the mealmoths. Time flies don’t look too different from regular flies; they look just like cluster flies, those incredibly stupid little guys who live in the walls and are too stupid to figure out how to get back into the walls once they get out, so we’d never noticed. They lay their eggs in fruit, but they themselves eat time, and they don’t care about bay leaves, or mint, which we were using to try to drive the mice off.

Problem was, with five people never leaving a house, hoarding food, and having twenty cats, as soon as the time disappeared the house became an utter disaster, and there was no way we could have an exterminator over. Also no way to call an exterminator anyway, because nobody was actually answering phone calls! Anywhere!! And we didn’t have the time to follow up on anything. It’s a miracle we got the cats fixed and managed to give some of them away. Not nearly enough, mind you. I don’t know whether we got rid of three or five or seven but we still have an absurd number of cats. And cats will chase mice, and wall squid, and Orion was willing to go after rats, but none of them were gonna touch a time fly.

We put up flypaper, of course, and rubbed mushy banana on it to attract them, but once the time flies have infested your house, you have a lot less time to get anything done, including getting rid of your time flies. Then the oven broke, but since we have two halves of a house, we had two ovens, so we didn’t do much to get it fixed. My wife wanted it to get fixed before Thanksgiving, but with the time flies, that was ambitious.

Then my boyfriend brought home a cockatoo. How he managed to find the time to get a cockatoo, I’ll never know. The family who’d owned the cockatoo apparently had to get rid of her because she was “wrecking our home.” I wondered, how does a bird you can keep in a cage wreck a house?

The bird decided she was my mate, and that my wife and boyfriend – who did most of the bird feeding chores – were her rivals in a harem anime. When I let her out, she wouldn’t let them come near me. Apparently the home-wrecking in question had not been literal destruction of a house, though she was capable of that too if she was bored enough. My boyfriend kept trying to win her over, but my wife had never forgotten about the birds who pecked her dog’s eyes out because the dog claimed that birds didn’t exist, and she was an introvert, so she was happy to go hide in her office all the time and never go near the bird.

Meanwhile, if I put Jessica – the bird – in her cage, she shrieked. All the time. Ever hear the Cure song “Like Cockatoos?” Where Robert Smith says that the night sang out like cockatoos, and it sounds all sad and romantic? Yeah, Robert Smith never went anywhere near a cockatoo. They do not sing. They screech. And they burble, and they talk, but when they’re bored, or angry, or angry and bored, they screech.

I couldn’t have Jessica climbing all over me while I was working. Sure, everyone loves when your cat photobombs the Zoom call, but the bird could talk, and did not give a shit about professional office language. I couldn’t have her screaming either. So I gave her a job. She was now Tier 1 tech support. One of her favorite things to say was, “What the fuck, Amazon?”  This endeared her to the customers, who were generally calling in because AWS had done something to screw up their day. She really enjoyed interacting with the customers, they liked her, and my existing tech support team liked having someone to semi-screen the calls. Of course, she couldn’t type what the customer’s complaint was into a ticket, but she could peck a touchscreen with a co-worker’s face and make a call to tell them what the complaint was, so they could enter the ticket.

Cockatoos don’t eat time flies, either, and the time flies loved the fruit in her bowl, so we started losing even more time. The bills didn’t get paid. There were gaps of three months in telemedicine visits that were supposed to have been two week follow-ups.

We got rid of the majority of the infestation when the summer ended and all the fruit had been harvested. Turns out that time flies really do not like caffeine. We used old coffee and painted it on bananas and apples, they’d come lay their eggs, and then the eggs would die because of the caffeine. We couldn’t do anything about Jessica’s food because you can’t feed caffeine to a cockatoo, but time flies don’t really like dried fruit so much, unlike Jessica, who loved it. They also don’t care for seeds or nuts. And we weren’t feeding the chickens fruit, and obviously neither the dog nor the cats ate the stuff, so we finally managed to take a breath, come up for air, look around ourselves -- and realize that now we had a massive roach infestation.

We tried spraying. We thought that would be enough. Then the new dishwasher stopped working, we got a warranty repairman, and he told us he couldn’t do it. Warranty wouldn’t cover it. When he took off the cover and showed us the little roach apartments, with the roaches sitting around their dining room tables feeding the crumbs they’d stolen to their four million children, looking up at us and giving us the finger (technically, the leg, but I knew what they meant), we realized that spraying commercial pesticide was not going to solve this. But now the fuckers had destroyed our second dishwasher, so this meant war. And without time flies draining all the time away, we had the resources to go to war.

I’d planned to spend the winter months renovating the bathroom. I didn’t mention our bathroom, did I? The new house, the one my wife’s parents bought, had two bathrooms – a nice big one on the upper floor and a tiny little water closet with just a sink and a toilet on the first floor. But in our original house, the one we owned, there was only one bathroom, and it was a galley where literally most of the length and width of it was taken by the bathtub, so to get to the toilet on the other side of the bathroom you had to slide along the wall like you’re making a home music video for “Walk Like An Egyptian” by the Bangles. Or else stroll through the tub. Or else use the rings I bolted to the ceiling joists for my ninja son and swing along the ceiling, but he was the only one who could do that. My boyfriend, a big guy, could barely use the thing. So almost immediately after we got the other house, everyone stopped using that bathroom and switched to the one next door, except for my ninja son because his bedroom was right next to it and it was convenient for him. Ninjas are good at slinking through narrow passages. Now that he had left, I’d planned to tear the whole thing out, and his bedroom, and replace them both with a normal-shaped bathroom and a slightly smaller bedroom.

I didn’t get the chance. We needed to do battle.

It hadn’t helped that some neighborhood ne’er-do-well, who was probably high as a kite, broke into our house in the middle of the summer because our dog was mouthing off to him, threatened the dog, told the cockatoo he’d fuck her up (we know this because she started saying “Gonna fuck you up!” every time we told her it was bedtime or that she needed to be quiet or stop climbing in my hair), and smashed all our fishtanks. Fortunately we had no fish. Unfortunately we had like five fishtanks because my boyfriend had wanted to rescue feeder goldfish and breed guppies for sale, so we’d filled up three forty gallon tanks and two twenties, plus a few tiny five gallons, and then due to the time flies we’d never gotten around to putting fish in them. This did terrible damage to the floor. We had the guy dead to rights on video, managed to actually get the city police to pick him up and a prosecution going, and then he jumped bail and fled, possibly through a Fae circle because no one ever saw him again. He was gonna owe us several thousand dollars for the floor damage.

After we got rid of the time flies, we discovered that the damaged floor had become completely porous to roaches, so what had probably started as a basement infestation had become a full blown house emergency. There were roaches in the cereal. (This was the fault of whoever wasn’t following the mealmoth protocol and leaving the cereal out of the protective plastic bins.) They’d destroyed the dishwasher and were working on the refrigerator. Every cabinet and drawer we had was entirely full of the little assholes, plus the condos they’d built in the dishwasher, plus several of our sealed bins of food that turned out to be less sealed than we’d thought.

Meanwhile the city had sold our house to some asshole lawyers in Ohio, because we hadn’t mowed our lawn, and we had allowed Fae circles to spring up there, which was considered a hazard. Which it was, yes, but only to us and people trespassing on our property, and how the fuck do you safely get rid of those things anyway? We had racked up several thousand dollars’ worth of fines for not being able to mow the lawn because of the Fae circles and not being able to get rid of the Fae circles because we couldn’t safely mow the lawn, and then the time flies interfering with our ability to remember to pay the damn fines before they ballooned. We were still in a state of national emergency at this point, the vaccine was right on the horizon but no one we knew had qualified to get it yet, and they wanted to make us homeless because we didn’t mow our lawn. This was absolute bullshit, and personally, I think may have been retaliation from people at Animal Control, who are not the same guys that fine you for your lawn but they work under the same overarching department in the city government. If we hadn’t gotten rid of the time flies, we might not have been able to respond in time. There was stuff in there that was nonsensical, like fines for having high grass and weeds in February, or for not having cleaned up the area where we put our trash cans in 2019, or for too many kites on the roof. Why does it even matter if there are kites on the roof? We put them there to distract local falcons away from our chickens! They can’t fly into the power lines, they’re tethered with metal cable!

Also they threatened to chop down our mulberry tree because it was in the way of the street light, which didn’t work anyway and which, when it did work, blinded people in my son’s old bedroom, which my younger son was going to move into as soon as we finished the bathroom renovations. Which as it turned out we couldn’t even start, but he moved in anyway because his room didn’t have a ceiling. His older sister had been exorcising ghosts from that room and somehow this made the ceiling fall in, so we’d been using cheap fake paneling in lieu of a real ceiling, and this does nothing to stop ghosts getting back into the room. So my wife put barbed wire around the mulberry tree. Well, it wasn’t really barbed wire, it was tomato cages she’d unraveled and linked into each other in a crazy way that made a fence with sharp wires sticking out of it in all directions. The city fined us for that, too, but she was going to challenge that in court, because no one was going to hurt themselves on it as long as they didn’t try to trespass on our property and mess around with our tree.

Anyway, so we paid off the lawyers in Ohio to get full title to our house back, and we paid off the city’s fines, which, due to lockdown, involved going to city hall, then going to the basement of city hall because the front door was locked, then giving several thousand dollars in cash to a garden gnome because someone at the city had thought it was fun and whimsical to replace the cash drop with a garden gnome. The cash drop was now in his mouth. Then we called every day for a month before we managed to get someone on the phone who could confirm that yes, the garden gnome had had the money and the city managed to get it out and put it on our account, but they wanted another $200 in interest because the time between us dropping the cash and them picking up the cash and putting it on our account was somehow our fault.

And all this time, we’re battling the roaches.

They’d proved themselves immune to pyrethin or whatever that stuff is in most commercial pesticides, whereas we had a house full of people who’d blow up with allergies when anything even slightly nasty was in their airspace, so no more pyrethin for us. We had to get by on organics. Cloves, lavender, mint, citrus – turns out there is a reason humans eat a lot of the stuff we eat, and it’s not just because it tastes good. It’s because it preserves your food, because pretty much every critter except for bedbugs and time flies hate the stuff. Mixtures of boric acid and sugar. Diatomaceous earth. A new dishwasher that’s fully enclosed so it’d be a lot harder for them to get in, and putting the old dishwasher into a gigantic garbage bag, then buying dry ice and filling the bag with it to try to suffocate them all. It worked, but the dishwasher was still toast, and once again, the warranty repair people wouldn’t fix it. The roaches might have been dead but the repair guy could plainly see the condos they’d left behind.

While this was going on, the second oven broke, so we had to get people in to fix them both. Guess what. No, no, you’ll never guess. No warranty repair. No repair at all, actually. The oven that had been under warranty turned out to have been fried by a pair of lovebird mice that had decided to get amorous right where their pals had been gnawing at electric wires, so when we turned the stove on, the current went through both mice, and now we had furry mice skeletons trapped forever in a posture that made it clear they’d been mating. The other oven was destroyed by roaches, and the repair guy, who we were paying for, not a warranty repair, refunded our money because he wasn’t willing to touch it.

We had no ovens and we were sick and tired of buying warranties that would never be honored, so we went to a place called Roy’s Discount Appliances, which was in the basement of a warehouse that used to belong to Toys R Us before they went out of business, and was a maze of ovens, dishwashers, refrigerators and washing machines that were used, refurbs, or on deep clearance because the manufacturer had discontinued them. Nothing like trying to shove two ovens into a minivan where you’ve removed the back seats, but you brought three people, so now one of them has to ride home sitting on the side of an oven and your tailgate won’t close so you have a bungee cord holding it down. We paid cash to get a 5% discount, and I strongly suspect some of those appliances fell off the back of truck, if you know what I mean.

Meantime, we’re repairing the floor. This means putting everything from the first floor of the house, except for the kitchen since it has a stone floor, into one of those portable rental units – not a storage facility because we wanted close access to it. The basement tunnels are prone to flooding, so we didn’t want to use them, also the staircase down there is a little too rickety for me to feel secure carrying my 80-inch television down it.

The city refuses to give us a permit for the storage unit. Says we have to pay our fines. We just did that. They record this stuff in cuneiform printed by dot matrix printers onto carbon sheets, so we have no way to tell if the fines they’re talking about are new fines, or the old fines that we paid cash to a garden gnome for, because we’re not organized enough to know where most of our mail is, so we don’t have the originals. Also we can’t read cuneiform. My wife’s dad can, but my wife doesn’t want him to know how big our fines are or how badly organized we are, and she thinks she could learn cuneiform if she had two weeks of free time. She does not have two weeks of free time. But my boyfriend makes friends with all the neighbors – he always did, but it’s especially been important since the Fae started calling him – and the Hispanic family with the chemist dad offers us their shed, which turns out to be significantly bigger on the inside, for less than we’d have paid for a portable storage unit. They’re just a couple of houses down the block, so it’s almost as good as a unit.

We spend a few months ripping up badly damaged tile and rug, all of which date from at least the 70’s and I always hated anyway, scrubbing off floor adhesive, and laying down a new hardwood floor, just us. By which I mean mostly just me, my wife doesn’t do handyman stuff (she helped with the scrubbing part, and she buys the supplies, but that’s it) and my boyfriend hasn’t really been useful for anything since the Fae started calling him. So now the roaches can’t get upstairs from the basement, but it’s too late, they have a beachhead here now, and so what we’ve just basically done is locked ourselves in with them. We start seeing more of the little fuckers. Now they’re getting into books and DVD cases and clothes hampers. Some end up in the bedroom.

You may ask why we don’t hire an exterminator. Remember the twenty cats? Maybe down to thirteen or seventeen or something by now – some of them spend all their time outdoors – but there are a lot of cats. And they’re at war with each other.

There’s the Canada clan – Sylph and Raven themselves have decided they are outdoor cats, but most of their kittens still live with us – and Tiamat’s clan, which includes Orion and Odin because Orion is one of Tiamat’s brothers (hopefully not the one who is also her father, but we got them from a hoarder’s kid going through his parents’ property, so we never actually found out), and she’s decided that Odin is less awful now that he’s a gazillion years old and she has the Canada clan to compare them to. My youngest daughter, who is mostly confined to her room due to physical weakness and compromised immune system, treats Tiamat’s kittens like they’re her own children (including carrying them around baby style, putting them in toy strollers she is way too old for, and occasionally putting one in a toy Pack n Play and then covering it with a large cardboard box as a “time-out”), so they have a home base. The Canada clan grew up in our bedroom, so they have a home base. The rest of the house is a war zone.

Whenever you walk through the house, there are cats hissing at each other, yowling, swiping at each other, chasing each other, the works. It’s still cold outside, so we can’t get them to go out and do their fighting outdoors like civilized cats. Our homeowners insurance dropped us when they found out about the tunnels in the basement. (They didn’t know we made the tunnels, and we didn’t admit to it, but insurance inspectors can be incredibly thorough when they want to be.) We haven’t been able to get a new policy yet. So my wife does not want a guy traipsing around the whole house where he might get tripped or scratched by warring cats. We’ve all learned to dodge, but an exterminator wouldn’t necessarily be experienced with being in a cat war zone.

It’s one thing to get repair guys into one or the other of the kitchens, they have doors and we can lock the cats out if we have to (I know most kitchens do not, in fact, have doors that can lock out the rest of the house, but we needed one back in the days when we had Angel, our beagle who we called that because as soon as you weren’t looking at him he would sneak into the kitchen and eat anything he could find, like the Weeping Angels on Doctor Who except with less neck breaking and more stealing your PB+J the instant your back was turned. That was before we had the other house, but we installed a similar door on the other house to keep the two dimensional dog from sneaking into our bedroom and pooping there.) It’s another thing to have a guy going all over your house while your cats are setting up ambushes for each other. And without homeowner’s insurance, we can’t risk it.

So it’s down to us. But we’re creative. My boyfriend has been seeing giant bugs that look like a cross between centipedes and beetles. Like the wall squid, they’re not entirely in our reality; he can see them because of his connection to the Fae. Well, my wife looks them up and apparently they are predators who eat bugs. We just have to get them over into our reality, and then figure out how to dispose of them. We can’t get frogs because the cats would attack them, and we can’t get an anteater because exotic animal, need a permit and besides, it’s not called a roach eater. We can bring the chickens inside to go roach hunting from time to time, but they poop all over the floor so the cure’s almost worse than the disease.

In our yard, there’s an old wooden gate that fell off the new house shortly after we got it, and instead of throwing it out, we leave it in the yard and move it around from time to time to kill weeds. The Fae made a circle on it. We carry the wooden gate into the house, and then my boyfriend leaves out sugar water to attract the centipeedles through the circle. Now we have centipede beetles the length of a human foot (which is mostly a lot shorter than the measurement named for it) in the house. Possibly this was ill thought out. The cats try attacking them, but it turns out, cats find centipeedles just as creepy as humans do, and the damn things have some pretty tough armor. It doesn’t take much before the cats get intimidated and leave them alone. Even Orion the assassin cat gives them a wide berth.

Turns out, the centipeedles are great at killing the roaches, but no one wants centipeedles in their pantry, or their silverware drawer. My daughter just literally stops eating off anything but her own private stash of sealed paper plates and plastic silverware because she’s so creeped out by the thought of either roaches or centipeedles touching anything she might eat off of. This isn’t great, the kid is already too thin and too easily put off her food. She was always picky, but apparently the timeshadow spent ten years eating moon cheese and is having a hard time stomaching Earth food, so now everything nauseates her, gives her a stomach, or is unappetizing in the first place.

One thing I will say for chickens: they’ll eat centipeedles. They don’t care, it’s all food to them. The cats have learned that chickens are much more of a threat and much less of a prey than they might think. Lana the two dimensional dog will happily chase the chickens, but she’s less two dimensional than she used to be. She doesn’t get enough exercise and she steals a lot of food, so she’s looking considerably more three dimensional than when we got her, which is good because it keeps her from slipping through closed doors, though bad in the sense that it’s not that healthy for her. There is enough clutter around the place, what with my tools, piles of lumber for the floor, and boxes of books that were deemed too heavy to carry over to the neighbors’ shed, that chickens have plenty of places to take shelter from a two and a half dimensional dog. And if we let Jessica the cockatoo out, turns out she thinks centipeedles are a fun piece of moving string to catch and tear in half. You’d think that a predator like a cat would be better at killing a centipeedle than a hookbill bird, but turns out, the centipeedles’ bellies are barely armored and the cockatoo has nearly opposable thumbs on her feet. She can flip them over, and then peck, peck, crack, done.

So we’ve got the chickens running around the place in chicken diapers to eat the centipeedles that we brought over from the lands of the Fae to eat the roaches, but we still have roaches and we still have centipeedles because it turns out you can’t control house bugs with predators. Spiders might be better at it and my boyfriend wants to get some, but my wife shoots that down.

I’m kinda at my wits’ end here, and then my youngest son wants to show me something.

So to understand this, I gotta tell you something about the layout of my house. We’ve got a full duplex, both sides, thanks to my wife’s dad. The front of the house is on a busy street, and my bedroom and my youngest daughter’s bedroom face that. The back of the house faces our deck, and my ninja son’s former bedroom (from the original side we had) and the guest room (from the new side we got) face that. Then there’s a room in the middle of our original house, that my younger son used to have, but now he’s moved into his older brother’s room. The bathroom is next to the boys’ bedroom, and also faces the deck.

Back a few years ago, before Covid, I did a renovation on my ninja son’s bedroom where I made it a little smaller, in preparation for making the bathroom wider. Then I didn’t have the opportunity to work on the bathroom. So there’s a narrow corridor between the bathroom and the bedroom. I threw together a quick and dirty closet to occupy some of that space, so the boys’ bedroom now has a closet in the corner that faces the bathroom and the deck. My younger son guided me over to this closet, and pulled up a trap door that I hadn’t known was there. There was a spiral staircase underneath.

So I went down the spiral staircase, of course, but I was freaking out. This hadn’t been here when I worked on the boys’ bedroom. I redid their entire floor, when they were so young they shared the room and my older daughter had the middle bedroom. There was no way this trap door could have been there when we moved in. There’s also no way it could be going where it’s going. My sons’ bedroom sits over the kitchen, but the kitchen has an addition in the back where we keep the laundry machines. This spiral staircase would theoretically be going right down into it.

Except it’s not. I’ve got pretty good spatial perception, so it doesn’t take me long to figure out that this very narrow little column is going between the two houses, at the edge where the kitchens meet the additions. I don’t know how it’s possible that I missed it. I’ve done so many renovations in this house. This is crazy.

The spiral staircase goes down underground and into a tunnel, which is not one of the tunnels my son and I dug to connect all the basements in the neighborhood. Technically this tunnel isn’t even in my basement; the foundation only goes as far as the original house, so the additions have no basement. This tunnel goes under my deck, then deeper underground, then turns, and comes up…

Ok, this is super weird. It’s a buried pillbox. This is like a basement, except what if your basement had a roof of its own rather than just being part of your house, and it was sticking out of the ground about two feet, with a lot of windows, and it was the size of maybe two rooms in your house put together, and it was at the back of the yard belonging to the neighbors with a swimming pool.

The room is mostly empty. There are tools, and some very iffy towels, and several empty beer cans, and a bottle of Windex and a really nasty roll of paper towels with spiderwebs all over it. I ask my son, “Did your brother know this was here?”

“I don’t know. If he did, he never mentioned it.”

“How long has it been here?”

“I don’t know, I just found it!”

There is no door, aside from the one we came in, and no staircase up to the ground level, but I open one of the windows and squirm through.

The fence around the neighbors’ swimming pool is about five feet tall, so I can see over it. My neighbors are sitting on their swimming pool. I mentioned the father’s a chemist or something, right? He’s got these substances that you mix into your water to change its solidity. They’ve turned about three quarters of their swimming pool into a semi-solid – a little bit squishy, their feet are leaving footprints in it when they walk around, but it holds their weight – and the remaining quarter, they’ve left as water so they can dangle their feet. There’s an entire entertainment center sitting in front of the pool, including a huge CRT TV, a VCR and a dozen super old video game machines like the Sega Saturn or the Nintendo GameCube, protected from the rain by a shade umbrella. Nothing is protecting this stuff from the water from the pool, though. They’re watching The Little Mermaid. I lean against the fence, and my neighbors notice me. The chemist greets me. “What’s going on, man?”

“I just discovered that this structure you have in the back of your yard is connected to my son’s bedroom.”

“Oh, wow,” he says. He gets out of the pool. He’s wearing swim trunks, but aside from his legs, he’s completely dry, since he’s been sitting on top of his pool dunking his feet and watching The Little Mermaid with his family. “You didn’t build that thing?”

“No, I didn’t build it.”

“But you built the tunnels.” I like this guy; he discovered the tunnels shortly after moving in, but he thought they were great. He wanted to get chickens himself, but there isn’t room in his yard with the swimming pool. The roof of the underground structure is completely covered with planter boxes full of tomatoes, peppers, flowers, herbs, and rutabagas. I don’t know why they’re trying to grow root vegetables in planters, but there’s enough foliage that I can tell what it is. The sign doesn’t help, it’s in Spanish. For obvious reasons I can read “tomato” and “jalapeno” and “serrano” in Spanish, but not “nabo sueco”, which probably means rutabaga because that’s what’s planted there.

“Yeah, a few years back, but I had no idea this thing was even here. Most of the tunnels go directly between the houses, not under the back yards.”

“Cool. I thought it was yours, but I didn’t know for sure. Can I go inside?”

“Well, there’s no door, but if you want to come to my house we can go down the staircase from my son’s room.”

So we traipse back over to my house, and then up to my son’s bedroom, down the stairs, through the tunnel, and into the empty underground structure. “This gets a lot of light for a thing underground,” he says. “A lot of windows.”

“It’s nice. I don’t know what it’s doing here, but maybe I’ll install some doors to give you and me privacy, and then make a trap door in the roof. I might have to move your rutabagas, though. That way you can come in and enjoy the space, too. Maybe we’ll make it some kind of den. You play board games? Role-playing games?”

“Not in English, not the role-playing games. I used to have an 11th level paladin before we moved here, but I was playing in Spanish. Board games, it’s mostly been Chutes and Ladders or Monopoly or some shit like that.” His kids are younger than mine.

“Well, we can put some furniture down there if there’s a trap door to lower it through, and get some lighting in.” There’s only one lamp, a work lamp clipped onto one of the ceiling joists. Its bulb works but is very dim. There’s one power outlet in the place. I’m gonna have to trace it back to see if it’s my electricity or his. “Set up some board games, maybe a mini-fridge with beer and Coke. We could hang out sometimes.”

“Yeah, that would be good. You like zucchini? My wife has too much zucchini.”

“I don’t, but my wife loves it. I could trade you some eggs.”

So that’s how I made friends with the mad scientist guy down the block. No idea what company he works for but they make some crazy shit. That stuff that makes the pool solid? Amazing. I don’t know how he keeps it from circulating through the entire pool, though. Maybe he’s got underwater baffles up to control the flow.

I tell my wife about this thing, and she looks at me funny. “Uh, yeah. You built that.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You got drunk one night and you said you were gonna seriously screw with the woman who called Animal Control on us. Then you built a tunnel to her house.”

“How the hell did I build that entire basement structure thing?”

“Oh, no, that was already there. You just connected to it. Same way you connected to the city’s underground tunnels.” Yeah, truth is, my son and I didn’t really build the entire tunnel system under the neighborhood. There was already a tunnel the city made and we just dug connectors to everyone’s basement, few years back.

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“Why would I tell you about it? You’re the one who built it. I thought you’d remember.”

Okay, maybe I need to control my drinking, but that was a stressful time, with that woman being responsible for me losing my two roosters to Animal Control. Roosters aren’t allowed in the city, because the city is sexist. Apparently I built the trap door, the entire spiral staircase, and the connecting tunnel in one night, and I made my wife, my boyfriend, and my ninja son help, and now I’m the only one who doesn’t remember it. That’s embarrassing. After that woman did that, and tried to stop us from rescuing our own chickens, my wife started anonymously harassing her and sending her moldy videotapes until she sold the house and left town. Gotta say I like the new owners a lot better.

I hang out with the scientist a couple nights a week, after we get some furniture in there. My wife goes swimming in their pool, but I’m not a big fan of swimming; I go to the bunker with him and we shoot the shit and drink some beers, while my wife and his wife talk about gardening and practice my wife’s very rusty Spanish. My wife learned about ten languages but isn’t fluent in any of them, although she can say “This beautiful green Earth will soon be mine!” in Japanese. Maybe she shouldn’t have learned so much of it from anime.

It’s not easy to admit to anyone that you’ve got a roach problem, let alone a new friend, but liquor lubricates a lot of conversational topics. Yeah, okay, so it’s not always beer we’re drinking. Sue me. I tell my friend about the roaches, and he tells me his company is working on this really amazing fantastic pesticide. It’s a fungus that destroys exoskeletons, and it infects bugs, and only bugs, and makes them do Cordyceps type bullshit where they crave light instead of hiding in the dark like verminous bugs usually do, so they come out where you can see them. Then you can kill them, or let the infection kill them. I’m kind of worried about zombie apocalypses but he assures me that the fungus cannot infect humans, or anything without an exoskeleton. That’s the only place the spores can grow.

That sounds awesome.

So we get some from him and we mix it with sugar and we put it down everywhere. Big rectangular squares around all the furniture. Up table legs and counter sides. All around the edges of the tables and the counters. We’re taking no chances. We pull out the dishwasher and oven and coat the bottoms and backsides of them. Normally this stuff would be scary expensive, but our pal is giving it to us for free – well, “free” meaning we’re giving him tons of ground beef from the cow we bought, plus weird organs because his wife knows how to cook them and me and my wife would have to google it, plus eggs. And my wife is helping his wife learn English, but that maybe doesn’t count because she’s helping my wife learn Spanish, so that’s a pretty even trade. We watch their kids sometimes too; we don’t have a swimming pool, but we do have practically every game machine released in the US and a couple that were Japan only, and a gigantic library of media on hard drive, most of which was legal. Well, somewhat legal. Well, a good bit of them, my wife borrowed from the library and then ripped to hard drive. The kids are not unhappy to come over our house, is my point.

By this point everyone is vaccinated and my friend’s workplace always was pretty safe because it’s a clean room, where people wear Tyvek suits over their entire bodies, and masks and goggles, long before Covid was a thing, and his wife doesn’t work and me and my wife work from home and their kids are still going to school online and mine aren’t going at all anymore. So we feel pretty comfortable sharing air even with Covid still going on. We’re seeing a lot more bugs, but my pal reminds me that that’s part of the goal of this stuff, to entice them to come out and bask in the sunlight so we can kill them more easily. His kids like to run through our house with water guns full of soapy water, shooting bugs (and each other, and my boyfriend, who plays with them). I don’t mind as long as they stay well away from the computer equipment and they clean up the water spills once they’re done. It’s free housecleaning. These kids are more helpful at keeping the place clean than my own kids have been in years.

Then we start to see clusters of the bugs stuck on the wall. It looks like spots of mold, but turns out to be mold-covered bugs sitting on the wall semi-stuck to each other. I’m allergic to mold. My friend says it’s not that kind of mold, am I allergic to mushrooms? And I point out, the spores, yes I am, because I used to grow mushrooms in my basement and they’d spray spores out every so often and my nose would run like it was training for a marathon. He’s chagrined, says he didn’t know, because yeah, of course these things are gonna come out in the sun and spray spores. Light makes them spore, that’s why the mold makes them want to go into the light.

So now I’m popping Zyrtec like it’s candy and there are more and more moldy bugs turning up. For some reason they really want to join up together, like the mold wants them to make a mold mat, so they all go stand next to each other, centipeedles and roaches and ants and fleas, all together. It’s getting flies and mosquitos and mealmoths, too; they don’t eat the sugar we mixed into the liquid suspension of spores, but if they land on the mold mat because they think it’s ordinary wall or floor, they’ll be joining it in a day or two. Spiders, too, presumably getting infected by eating infected bugs. It spreads outside because the house is porous and the bugs can go in and out; there’s a giant ant colony burrowed into the dirt walls of the tunnels I made a few years back, and those guys are coming up out of the dirt and making giant mold mats of ants on the sidewalk and in the grass. It’s pretty gross. My friend begs me not to tell anyone who asks about the product I used; apparently it was experimental and he could lose his job for giving it to me. Well, thanks, buddy, wish you’d warned me! He assures me this never happened in the lab. I’ll bet they didn’t have nearly so many bugs in the lab, and they were probably in terrariums or something where there just weren’t all that many bugs per habitat.

At the point where the outdoor walls start getting covered with mold mats made of ants and earwigs and the fleas that lurk in the grass waiting for unsuspecting cats to walk by, the city gets on my ass. Apparently my walls are covered with mold and I need to clean them off, it’s unsanitary and releasing spores. “You think?” I say with my red, teary eyes and in between violent sneezes as I fish for more Kleenex in my pocket. I cannot actually get anywhere near the mold mats, not without a full on respirator. We have N95 masks and safety goggles, but I try those things and a. the safety goggles immediately fog up so I can’t see and b. it doesn’t help, the spores are getting into the safety goggles and getting into my eyes anyway.

My wife, my boyfriend and the friend-who-got-me-into-this-mess step in to help out. They’re spraying the mold mats with bleach, which would kill the bugs even if the mold hadn’t killed them yet, and scraping them off the walls with shovels and brooms. The ones they find in the yard, they dig underneath and cover them with dirt, then copper fungicide because, unlike bleach, that won’t kill plants that try to grow in the dirt. My friend has some more weird chemicals he thinks might help, but frankly I’m done; I got centipeedles to kill the roaches and then I got this stuff to kill the centipeedles and the roaches and it’s just made matters worse. Everyone in the world is allergic to roaches but not nearly as badly as I am to this mold. I’ve graduated to Benadryl, and bourbon, which does nothing about the allergies except to help me sleep through them. My wife says I’m not supposed to drink while taking Benadryl but I ask you, how do you look at your walls covered with mats of dead bugs that are growing mold and not drink?

The ants apparently go everywhere. Other neighbors are ending up with mold mats on their lawn. This is getting out of hand. I joke about setting the neighborhood on fire, but my wife reminds me that setting mold on fire just spreads spores.

So that gives me an idea.

We’ve got this water main that’s been broken for, oh, ten years now. The city keeps coming out to fix it and it just doesn’t fix. First it was up the street, pouring water down our street for years, winter and summer, which meant the road would turn into a slick sheet of ice every winter. Then they fixed it so that now it forms a pond in the median right outside my house. Maybe eventually they’d have stoppered that up too, but they left a backhoe on the median and somebody stole it. Not me or my family, for once; we checked the cameras but they weren’t pointing at the backhoe so we never figured out who did it. Anyway, mold likes damp, but things that like damp don’t necessarily like serious amounts of water, right?

My friend and I hook up pipes to the broken water main, and connect them to hoses, and connect the hoses to pumps, and pull all the water up the street to some of the neighbors behind my house who paved their back yards. We empty out the furniture from the underground room and clean out our respective basements, first, and park the cars up the street on the hill above all this. Then we let the water go.

This floods the neighborhood.

Yes. Again.

Everything below the level of where we’re pumping the water main to gets flooded. Yards and basements fill with water and wash down the hill to the river, which is really more of a cranky little creek most of the time, and the river washes it all down to the bay, where it should be diluted to the point where it won’t hurt the crabs. My friend assures me that this mold was bio-engineered to not be good at handling a lot of water. It can drown, too, even its spores. If they’re floating in water and they encounter a crab, they won’t be able to germinate on its shell. This is very important because around here we love our crabs. Of course, all this disturbed some local ghosts – ghosts don’t like flooding – but honestly I feel like it’s just negligence if you still have ghosts. We had all those floods a decade ago, like the one my car floated off in, so everyone should have known by now that there are ghosts in the area and they don’t like floods, so get them exorcised pre-emptively. It’s kind of like not having fire extinguishers in your house, if you don’t get the exorcism done.

We go around to any of our neighbors with a mold mat on the walls, and spray it off with a power washer. So far thankfully none of them have ended up with mold mats inside their houses, which just goes to show you how much the gods hate my house. We do not admit that any of this is our fault, just being good neighbors and helping out, but unfortunately my neighbors know me too well.

So this is great. Our animals are free of fleas, there’s no flies or mosquitos around for once in our lives, the mealmoths and the roaches and the centipeedles are gone, there’s no ants. And this is true all over the neighborhood. The bees seem to be fine; bees seemed to know not to land on the mold mats, and we didn’t poison with sugared fungus outside, so there was nothing to attract them to the fungus. Wasps, unfortunately, are fine too, but fuck it, they’re pollinators and I have fruit trees so I guess that’s okay. So this all ought to be great, right? Everybody happy, the whole neighborhood free of bug pests?

The city is now fining me out the ass for “stealing water”, even though come on, it’s bubbling up from the broken water mains so much it made a mosquito-growing pond, and I’m the one who got rid of the mosquitoes. (For the larvae in the pond, we just used mosquito dunks, plus our stunt temporarily drained the pond.) My neighbors are suing me for various things, including pain and suffering, water damage to their yards, riling up ghosts, and the death of so many poor innocent little buggies. (Are you kidding me? There are people around here actively mourning the deaths of flies and roaches. What the hell is wrong with people?)

And that is why I have posted this GoFundMe. Because I got rid of an entire neighborhood’s worth of bugs, at least for this year – no illusions about them coming back next year now that we’ve washed away all the spores – and people are suing me for it. And I’m not willing to throw my chemist friend under the bus legally, since he could lose his job, so the defense “this guy told me it was okay” is not gonna help. And everyone who wanted to get into the cloud when Covid hit already has by now, so business is not exactly booming anymore. Anybody want to help a guy out?

[2maegor2cruel]

Heres the oaf's political insight! So not in the Shield Islands succession context, its pre-kingsmoot, but still not very helpful. Anyhow I fully subscribe your frustration, its kind of a worldbuilding sinkhole by GRRM - I just tend to take the I think opposite approach for my daydreaming that is that if there's no Canon confirmation that a a group of siblings all come from the same mother I make a random amount of them salt sons lol. I even considered it for Rodrik Harlaw bc I Imagine there's a ton of rock daughter vs salt son inheritance dysputes and i really don't see why Gwynesse feels like she had a shot in a dispute with him if they're full siblings - but eh thats definitely One where It would have been said if It were the case and Gwynesse Is Just being metaphorical lol. Anyhow Always a Joy to see people overthink worldbuilding and I Wish you good luck on your writing and on your read of Last Serving Daughter i had a very good time with it

@hell-heron THANK YOU!!!! I could not find that for the life of me, I swear. tbh I can't tell if George legit forgot about Harras for a hot second or what. My best guess is that the assumed mutually beneficial alliance between Vic and Hotho would involve two things: 1) Hotho swings Harlaw for Vic using his influence, 2) once Vic wins the kingsmoot, he'll repay Hotho by marrying his daughter and (politically) strong-arming Rodrik Harlaw into giving Hotho the castle of Ten Towers. So perhaps Vic was low-key threatening Asha, because Rod the Reader holds a lot of political sway in Asha's favor, but if Vic throws in with Hotho, then that power is undermined? Idk, if anyone's got a better idea then please let yourself be known.

But yeah, it's frustrating. I know a stupid amount about George's ironborn lore, but it's not uncommon that I look at a particular bit of world-building, think to myself "hm. nah. that's stupid", and totally disregard it lolll. On a personal level, I think George could have done so much more to explore gender on the Iron Islands, but I just need that old man to focus on finishing TWOW. Leave the gender stuff to the experts: tumblrinas 🫡 (affectionate). Ironborn gender gets discussed a ton in relation to Theon (which is fair, considering that homeboy is a cocktail of the worst gender expectations and masculinity Westeros has to offer), but I wanna know more about ironborn women too!!

And oooOOOoo I like your salt son Rodrik idea... that's pretty spicy. I just assumed Gwynesse was an old battle axe that liked to make her younger brother's life difficult (same), but that's a fun interpretation too lol. I've had a lot of thoughts about the Rodrik-Alannys-Gwynesse sibling triumvirate of widow(er)s rattlin' around in the ol' braincase lately, and now I have something new to ponder... hehe.

Finally, it's good to hear that you liked "Last Serving Daughter"! That means I should definitely read some more of it tonight 😉 And thank you! I wrote a handful of short one-shots back when I was 15 (a dark time), and then didn't really write again for like 7 years lol. But now I'm back in the game! My confidence (and frankly, competence) has improved a lot in the last few months, and I've been having a great time! These next few chapters of The Fic will involve a lot of Iron Islands world-building, with a ton of details and character backstories that I 100% made up lol. But the important part is that I'm having fun and being myself 👍

[reconstructwriter]

Crap I wish I'd seen this post earlier! I put way too much thought into my pick but overall I’d prefer 1) someone unlikely to die/go dark as soon as I turn my back, 2) who has the best chance of success (i.e. galaxy saved) and 3) who is older for more time to intervene! So here’s who I’d pick in order:

(Warning: two whole dollars worth o' word vomit)

Yaddle/The Daughter: Both are extremely unlikely to Fall or die, are really motivated to help the galaxy and have centuries of lifespan to intervene IN. I’d take advantage of it by intervening as early as is feasible (i.e. old enough to understand and convince others) with a warning about being murdered by the next Sith Apprentice or something to that effect.

Padme: While she doesn’t give me much time to work with, she does have the will, power and placement to royally screw over the Empire before it rises and potentially guide the Republic to a new golden era. I’d say something like, “Just as Palpatine the Sith betrayed Naboo, so will Anakin as a Sith betray the Republic and murder you!” right around TPM. That'd pretty much do it.

Mace: Also unlikely to Fall or die and most likely to believe me via Shatterpoint ability and beat a Sith Master in a fight via Vapaad. I could pull something similar to Yaddle and say: “You’ll be killed by the Sith Master, Sheev Palpatine,” ASAP. He might even be just old enough to rescue Sheev pre-Sithhood which kinda gets me a ‘two characters for one’ deal.

Fives: Little time to work with but Fives puts himself in the right place at the right time to save his brothers and avert galactic fascism. I’d warn him that “Palpatine will order your death!” before he heads to Palpy. Fives is a smart cookie, he can figure things out from there and get to the Jedi Temple or Padme Amidala (or both).

Jaster: My first long-shot scenario but if I warned him “You will die by Tor Viszla’s set-up mission” or something like that, he might be the type to not only unite Mandalore but start a genuine – ACAB, worker, grassroots revolution – Separatist movement just in time to steal Dooku’s thunder. Again, it’s a long-shot but he’s the kind of idealist who might go for it?

Dooku: A real Fall risk but if I intervene when he’s a Padawan with: “you’ll die at the hands of Sheev Palpatine’s newest Sith Apprentice,” he has plenty of time to change things…and possibly convince Yoda the Sith are back! He’s old enough to rescue Sheev and as a good-aligned politician could turn the Republic around or start a genuine Separatist movement. Lots of potential, lots of risk!

Sheev: I’m not a gambler and this is a BIG gamble BUT a nudge of conscience to flee Hego/Darth Plagieus, go to the Jedi and spill his guts would do a lot of damage to the future Empire. Even if/when he Falls later, the Sith order is exposed! And if he doesn’t, a good-aligned Sith might be able to turn the Senate around as his evil counterpart rode it to hell!

Qui Gon Jinn: Eh, my problem with him is he seems to do pretty much all he can in canon – to little success. I could warn him ‘a Sith apprentice will kill you’ but he’s not great at convincing the Council of anything or fighting Sith on his own. Obi Wan may be his only hope. Not a big payoff but not complete disaster.

Anakin: I'm surprised so many people voted for him. He's got a Fatal Flaw he doesn't feel like changing, little time to change things in and, prophecy aside, the least power to change things. Still, if I tell him 'The Sith Master Sheev Palpatine will murder you' at age 9 he might invoke prophecy/warn the Jedi or Padme...but he also keeps secrets so I might waste my breath here.

Jango: Much like Anakin he has a Fatal Flaw he doesn’t feel like changing so this is a big risk but if I intervened at age 16 and said: “Beware your desire for Vengeance/Battle will be your death – but not before its all your allies’ deaths!” He might be convinced enough to channel his ambition and badassary to better ends. But even if he saves Mandalore the Empire would still genocide it.

Satine: Like Qui Gon I don’t know how much knowledge of her death will do – she’s already doing about everything she can. May say: “Your Pacifist beliefs will bring more violence – and the Sith will take advantage of it to kill you!” Maybe she won’t do an ethnic-cleansing via exile and/or mention the Sith to Kenobi/Jinn? Still a long shot and that's if Obi Wan or Qui Gon believe her!

If you were given a chance to save one (1) character in the Star Wars universe from either Death or joining the Dark Side (and you could only do so by dropping into a Significant Turning Point moment for that character as essentially an intangible guardian angel or a brief voice of conscience)...

...and your goal was to create the best possible snowball effect for the fate of the larger galaxy...

Now for the FUN PART. Exactly during which point in their timeline would you attempt to interfere?

[imperialmadam]

I posted 68 times in 2022

That's 30 more posts than 2021!

10 posts created (15%)

58 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@foxindarkness

@bluestaratsunrise

@saurons-pr-department

@udunuruk

@bilbo-babe

I tagged 63 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#rings of power - 31 posts

#sauron - 23 posts

#adar - 17 posts

#mairon - 13 posts

#halbrand - 11 posts

#melkor - 10 posts

#silmarillion - 9 posts

#tolkien - 8 posts

#lotr rop - 7 posts

#fanart - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 29 characters

#incorrect silmarillion quotes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

When Halbrand showed up on the horse at the end of the last Rings of Power episode, he looked so much like Aragorn that I thought Viggo Mortensen had a cameo for a moment.

28 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#4

“Do you know how the orcs first came into being? They were elves once. Taken by the dark powers. Tortured and mutilated. A ruined, terrible form of life.” - Saruman, The Fellowship of the Ring

So Adar went through that? I want to hug him.

63 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

How the Villains of Rings of Power Won Me Over

I wasn’t excited about either of the main villains of Rings of Power (Adar and Halbrand-as-Sauron) until I saw them.

1. Adar. When I first heard about him, my reaction was kind of eh, okay. I didn’t have a problem with an evil elf, but I thought he would be just a lesser version of Sauron. The poster of a spiky black gauntlet holding a sword didn’t help that impression.

But it quickly became clear how much care went into creating this character. He’s no Sauron Lite. We see ruthlessness, but we also see kindness, especially in his first scene where he puts a dying orc out of his misery. Then we get his backstory. Giving a face and a name to one of the elves corrupted by Morgoth was an excellent idea. He also sees orcs (sorry, Uruk) as people, which we don’t see very much in Tolkien, although Tolkien apparently struggled with that.

The writers also gave Adar heroic traits, such as the fact he got to give an inspiring speech before the battle. And it wasn’t really that evil. Aside from the last sentence (close our fist around these lands), he talked about endurance and freedom, not conquest.

It also helps that Joseph Mawle has incredible charisma and screen presence. I can’t take my eyes off him when he’s on screen.

2. Sauron. I was concerned about Sauron’s depiction. This was the first time we’d truly get Sauron as a character on screen. (I don’t really count The Hobbit, he just shows up as a shadow or armoured figure, says and does evil stuff, and is defeated.) I hoped the RoP writers would get his charm, manipulation and desire for order.

As someone following speculation about the show, it was hard to avoid the idea that Halbrand was Sauron. Even before the show started, people were saying that. And he was showing many Sauronish traits - being a blacksmith, his burst of violence, his advice to Galadriel about mastering people, the fact he’s done evil things. One on its own, fine, but all of them together? The H=S theory seemed more likely each episode. And I didn’t like it. Halbrand just didn’t catch my attention enough. Hot, charming and snarky, sure. A decent character in his own right, but too ordinary to be Sauron. Before, I was worried Adar would be a lesser Sauron, and now I was worried Halbrand-as-Sauron would seem dull after the complex and intriguing villain that is Adar.

But I knew the execution would make or break the reveal, and it worked! I could see Halbrand as the Dark Lord. I can see why the finale was Charlie Vickers’ favourite - he truly shone in that episode. The way he went from charming to terrifying when Galadriel rejected him was incredible, and felt very Sauron-like. They also got the idea that Sauron does want to help Middle Earth - but he thinks that means ruling over it. And that final shot of Sauron walking into Mordor with his cloak blowing around him was breathtaking. Halbrand was not the Sauron I imagined, but he is Sauron.

I should rewatch the season. I will probably enjoy Halbrand more now I know he pulled off the Sauron reveal.

(I have to say I expected a more dramatic Sauron transformation than Halbrand dyeing his hair and putting on a black cloak - but I suppose he had to stay recognisable as Halbrand.)

89 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

#2

(Sauron returning to Mordor after drowning in the Fall of Numenor)

Galadriel: Halbrand...

Sauron: Don’t start.

125 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Gandalf: Morgoth? After all this time?

Sauron: Always.

136 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[chaninfused]

ABITTIPSY • HHJ • just the glorious summer heat and the even more glorious hwang hyunjin; fluff; best friends au; hyunjin is very oblivious; 757 words.

There were some days when you thought that the universe must be infatuated with Hyunjin just as much as you were, and today was one of those days.

You watched as a stream of crystal water shot through the hose, raining down on the foam-covered car and revealing the brilliant blue sheen of its body. Naturally, your gaze fell back on the source of the action, Hwang Hyunjin, in all his summer glory.

Sunlight was melting into his skin like rich honey, haloing him as though he were a celestial entity beyond your mortal comprehension. The heat had prompted him to roll up the already short sleeves of his t-shirt, baring arms sculpted by years of swimming practice. The scarce breeze greeted him when he faced the sky, tousling his hair ever so gently. It was as if the elements banded to express their unbounded affection for him on that slow morning.

“All done!” Hyunjin called over to the client enjoying a cup of lemonade by the makeshift stand. Shortly after, he was stuffing a few crumpled bills into his back pocket and running up to where you sat as the newly washed car drove away.

“Hey, how’s Econ looking like?”

Right. Economics. The long-forgotten notes in your lap seemed to lurch to life and laugh at your embarrassment for being caught staring. The noise that escaped your lips was lost between a cough and a snort. You turned away, avoiding his earnest eyes, “Fine.”

“Huh. You’ve been on the same page for the past forty-five minutes. Are you sure?” he pointed at your notes, brows furrowing slightly in concern.

The air seemed to bristle around you with heat. “Well…”

“I could help!” he offered, though he didn’t leave much room for protest as he grabbed your notes and flumped on the faded asphalt. Much to your horror.

“Get a chair at least!”

“Eh, I’ll end up getting up anyway.” he dismissed your alarmed remark, brushing his hair back as his eyes ran over your messily scripted notes. “Alright, let’s see…”

Having finished his finals before you, Hyunjin was helping around his family’s garage while you were stuck revising for the upcoming week. It was his idea to have you study outside—something about a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air.  

Though, it felt like you couldn’t take a single little breath because of the sight of him, let alone study properly.

Sitting there, entrapped in a spell of focus, Hyunjin captured your heart all over again. The slight pout of his lips, the hair that stubbornly fell over his eyes; he was an impossible kind of perfection that you wouldn’t mind contemplating for hours, days, and the rest of your life. If he’d let you. If he’d have you.

For a fleeting moment, you dared to imagine what it would feel like to rake your fingers through his hair. And, as if reading your thoughts, he did it for you, pushing the dark strands back again, oblivious to the clamor that erupted in your mind.

What the hell, Hyunjin.

“Have you ever thought about tying your hair back?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, seeming dazed, and your thoughts seemed to stumble over one another in turn. How could someone be so unintentionally endearing while simultaneously and singlehandedly tipping your world upside down with his mere presence?

Is he doing this on purpose?!

You placed your elbows on your knees and leaned closer, perching your chin on your palm as a silly grin stretched your lips. “Your hair. Have you considered tying it? You keep brushing it back like some actor in a music video. It’s annoying.”

Hyunjin laughed at that, reaching to tuck his hair back again before he caught himself. Reciprocating your teasing tone, he raised an eyebrow at you, “Do you have a hair tie to lend, then?”

You shrugged, leaning back and gazing at the blank-faced sky. “Maybe we should go on a shopping trip after I finish finals,” a pause, and you looked back at him, mischief twinkling in your eyes, “I’m thinking the brashest green ribbons. What do you think?”

Another soft laugh, and he waved your notes in the air. “I’m thinking you pass Econ first. You can put all the hideous ribbons you want in my hair then.”

Drunk on the sun and the warmth coursing through your body, you thought that perhaps the universe was instead conspiring against your besotted heart by placing Hyunjin in your life. So carelessly perfect, yet so stupidly oblivious.

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

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