#half of the twists are FANTASTIC and the other half are so stupid you want to punch a wall

[forcebookish]

every time i see someone say that bleach isn't that good i'm like HEY!!!! and then i remember that i think so too fjdksljfkgdsl

[ckret2]

Chapter 60 of human Bill Cipher almost wasn't the Mystery Shack's prisoner but he's back here for some reason:

Everything you never even imagined about how Bill survived his execution.

(warning for cultists doing cultish activities in this chapter. and i don't mean "fantastical Blind Eye Society hijinks," i mean "discussing how to indoctrinate & isolate new recruits.)

####

"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"

Stan punched Bill in the nose.

Bill tumbled on his back, hand over his face. Voice tight with pain, he said, "Just so you know, I let you do that."

Stan's voice hit a pitch he hadn't been able to reach since puberty. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALIVE!"

Bill sat up gingerly. "Well, funny story—"

"NO! Nuh-uh, I'm finishing you properly this time!" Fists raised, Stan lunged at Bill.

Ford grabbed Stan from behind, one arm around his neck and one hooked up under his armpit. (Bill took the opportunity to scoot backward and get to his feet.) "Stanley! Stand down!"

"YOU!" Stan flung Ford's hands off and whirled around, pointing accusatorially at him. "You gave me your word! Tell me you didn't let Bill out."

"I didn't let Bill out."

Stan grabbed Ford's turtleneck. "Don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't let Bill out!" Ford ripped Stan's hands off his turtleneck. "He was already gone when I went into the kids' room."

"Then who— Who else would've known—"

Stan whirled around at a creak on the stairs. Dipper, halfway down the stairs, jumped when Stan saw him.

"DIPPER!" Stan stormed up to the stairs. "Did you help the demon escape?!"

"What, no!" Dipper took a step back up. "I don't even know how he got out! All I did was not say anything!"

"Well, who's left that could've helped him?!"

"BIIILL!" Mabel barreled down the stairs. "YOU CAME BACK!" She climbed on the stair railing, jumped off, and Bill—who'd crept inside behind Stan—was once more tackled to the ground.

Stan's hands twisted in the air like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle someone, punch something, or pull out his own hair. He finally settled on curling them into fists and shaking them at God. "AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW THE DEMON'S ALIVE?!"

Soos, still sitting in the living room by himself, staring into space, voice hushed with horror, asked, "So who did I sweep into the flower vase..."

"Okay, family meeting!" Stan pointed at the living room, "Right now! You," he pointed at Bill, "upstairs! I don't wanna look at you and your—your stupid Las Vegas magician sequined coat!"

Bill sat up with a wince and grinned, "Oh, do you like it?" He took off his backpack and checked to see if its contents had been crushed when he was knocked down twice.

"You look like a circus clown!"

"I liked the Vegas magician thing better."

"GO!" Stan pointed up the stairs.

Bill raised his hands, rolling his eye as he started up the stairs. "Fine, fine—"

Stan grabbed Bill's wrist, making him drop his backpack. "STOP!"

"Make up your mind!"

Stan yanked one half of the enchanted friendship bracelets down over Bill's wrist. "You're not getting out again. Not on my watch."

Bill jerked his arm free, shot Stan a dirty look, and stomped up the stairs, umbrella clutched angrily in one hand and backpack in the other. Stan pulled the other half of the bracelet on.

In the living room, Ford, Dipper, and Mabel were lined up shamefacedly on the couch, like three students waiting to be lectured by the principal. Stan glowered at them each, fists on his hips. "Now, I wanna know why my own family all joined in some big secret conspiracy to help Cipher escape! Is it alien mind control?! Did you join a cult?!"

Mabel took a deep breath. "I saved him because he's my friend and I don't want him to die and he really is getting better and you'd all see it if you just gave him a chance to prove it and you just don't understand how he thinks like I do"—she took another breath—"and I promise he won't try to take over the world again just give him a chance!"

Stan's glare melted into something close to guilt. "You're... you're fine, pumpkin. I know you wouldn't have let your friend get hurt." He shot a glare at the other two conspirators. "Which is why we weren't going to tell her."

"Listen," Dipper said, "I still hate him and I don't trust him, but—but I heard part of a poem about Bill that I'm sure is a prophecy; which means he's important, we'll probably need him to save the town or something! So we can't let him die before then! He's already passed up chances to kill us and even saved Grunkle Ford and me, that proves he can restrain himself enough to be useful!" He winced, "Plus... I didn't wanna make Mabel sad. I have seen a future where she loses a friend, and it is not pretty."

Mabel leaned against Dipper. "Thanks, bro-bro."

Stan screwed up his face, but just muttered angrily under his breath about stupid prophecies and stupid life saving, and turned his glare on Ford. "Well? What's your excuse?"

Ford didn't answer, staring down at his hands, grimacing as he searched for an answer.

Stan pressed, "You told me that if you couldn't pull the trigger, you'd give me the gun. Why didn't you?"

"Because I could have pulled it! The situation was different, I—I only changed my mind because he wasn't there. If he had been, I'd have done it—"

"Would you? If you couldn't even tell me that he wasn't dead, do you really think that if he'd been right there, looking you in the eyes, you'd have done it?"

In his mind's eye, Ford could see Bill, hiding under a towel, grinning up at him with one bright eye. And Bill, collapsed beside the lake, shaking all over, sobbing so hard he didn't even notice he was clinging to Ford's stupid borrowed t-shirt like a lifeline. And Bill, staring tiredly across a chess board, telling Ford that the black king was taking the whole board down with him. And Bill, lighting up the room as he taught Ford's niece about his own long-extinct alien civilization.

And Bill, glowing golden, lighting up Ford's dream as he taught him about fifth-dimensional calculus.

Ford didn't answer.

Stan asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Softly, Ford said, "Because I don't want him to die."

Stan spread his arms in disbelief. "Well, why the hell not?!"

"Because—I'm—beginning to think that there might be a chance that Bill could..." he winced, "change. Maybe."

Stan's silence was deafening. Mabel leaned forward to stare around Dipper at Ford.

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I—it made sense yesterday, but it sounds stupid out loud."

Stan slowly shook his head. "Have you all lost your minds? You think he can change? You think he's part of some prophecy?! Y—Mabel, honey, you're the sweetest girl in the world, but you could do way better for friends than him."

Mabel sorta shrugged, sorta shook her head, sorta grimaced, and sorta nodded. "Yeah, but, I like him."

"WHY?!" Stan roared, making Mabel and Dipper both jump. "Why, why are any of you wasting your time on him?! Guys like him don't change! He's a dangerous, self-centered crook, and that's all he'll ever be. He's a rotten, greedy, lazy loser, he's only gotten as far as he has by conning guys smarter than him, he's got no regard for anybody but himself, all he does is cheat and lie, and if you let him stay in our lives he'll just ruin them! The best thing he could do for our family is—" Stan choked on a lump in his throat. "Is d-die."

The room was silent. Dipper and Mabel, leaning back into the sofa to get away from the rant, stared at him with wide eyes. Soos, over in an armchair bearing silent witness to this family drama, had his hands steepled in front of his face.

Stan couldn't look at Ford. He didn't know why Ford looked so sorrowful. Thickly, Stan asked, "All I want is to get rid of him—why don't you?"

He could hear Soos wince. "Oof."

Stan pointed at him. "Not a word. Not one word," he growled. "Fine—if none of you will deal with him properly," he cracked his knuckles, "I will."

Mabel flinched. Dipper moved to stand, "Grunkle Stan—" but stopped when Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

Stan stomped up the stairs. He'd wring that monster's stupid neck, and if it started the apocalypse then so be it—

He stopped halfway up the stairs. Bill was sitting on the steps, just around the landing corner, leaning against the wall, backpack in his lap. His soaked pant legs were dripping rainwater on the steps. "You," Stan snarled. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius? I'm trying to eavesdrop," Bill said. "So what'd they say?"

"What? What did who say about what?"

"About leaving me alive. Why did they say they don't want me dead?"

He asked like he was genuinely curious. Like he didn't know.

Stan stared at Bill.

"I have a good idea for Shooting Star, but the other two...?" Bill made an uncertain gesture with his hand. "I've got my top guesses, but I want to know what clinched the deal."

Stan couldn't kill him, either.

He'd already lost this fight. Pathetic lonely dead con artist who'd rather lose a tooth than look scared, how could Stan take him out? He understood too well. "Just—shut your stupid mouth, take off that stupid circus outfit, and get out of my sight, Cipher."

Bill bristled. "Hey." He stood. "What's that for? It's not like I did anything wrong. Sure, I got your whole family in on a conspiracy, but that's their mistake! I was just doing what I had to! You can't blame me for—"

"I don't blame you," Stan said.

"You d— You don't." Cautiously, Bill asked, "You... don't?"

"How can I?" He shrugged heavily. "It was self-defense. Ford should've known better—but I can't blame you. I'm not an idiot, I don't expect you to just lay down and die for us."

"Oh." Bill squinted at Stan, like he thought this was a trick and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Okay." After a pause, voice uncharacteristically small and confused, he asked, "So I'm... not in trouble?"

Stan's face did a gymnastics routine. "Heck," he muttered. "No! I guess not! I don't like it, but I'm not gonna punish a guy for saving his own miserable worthless hide! Just... stay out of my way, I don't wanna see your stupid face."

"I'm just minding my own business," Bill said. He sat again and leaned on the wall, arms crossed, staring into space thoughtfully. (He didn't know what to do with a reality where he'd done something everyone hated, but nobody blamed him for it.)

Stan trudged back downstairs. Everyone was where he'd left them. He glowered at his family. They quietly waited. "Well," Stan said. "We're stuck with him now. Since somebody wasted the only bit of fuel we had that could kill him. Is everyone happy."

Nobody seemed particularly happy. Ford shifted on his seat. "Kids... you should go to bed. Stan and I need to talk."

Dipper and Mabel quickly took the opportunity to slide off the sofa and escape the room.

"Oh! Oh you bet we need to talk! You have no idea how much we need to talk—"

"Downstairs," Ford said firmly.

"What, you don't want everyone else to hear exactly what I think of your crazy stunt?"

Ford lowered his voice. "Downstairs where he can't overhear. It's important."

Stan's face twitched with the effort of suppressing more shouting; but then he growled, "Fine! But this had better be worth it. Lemme get my bathrobe, your stupid underground office is like a freezer..." He trudged from the room, grumbling. "Hey, demon! Take off your bracelet, I'm done being tied to your sorry hide." After a moment, the thread reappeared on the stair steps as they both took their ends off.

Dipper glared at Bill as he and Mabel passed him going up the stairs. Bill gave him a tiny, cheery wave. Dipper grumbled, "I can't believe you finally escaped like you wanted just to come right back."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea! Blame your sister!"

Mabel hugged him again. "Thanks for coming back."

Bill said, "Thanks for absorbing Stan's wrath for me!" He laughed.

The kids ran upstairs.

And Bill placed the tip of his broken umbrella on the stair step and quietly walked back down, winding the enchanted bracelets' thread into loops as he went.

####

Soos looked at Ford and shyly raised a hand. "So... when you said the kids should go to bed, did that include..."

"Yes, Soos," Ford said. "You should go too."

"Yes." He quietly pumped a fist. "One of the kids." As he left, he said, "Hey, Bill. Sweet coat."

Ford looked over. Hovering in the shadows of the entryway, almost glowing gold from the living room's light, Bill peered into the room. He was by the coat rack, hanging the bracelets back up. Bill said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Ford sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Cipher."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not down here for you." Bill gestured at the sofa Ford was on. "I want my bed back."

Right. Ford stood so Bill could retrieve the cushions.

As he grabbed the first cushion, Bill smirked at Ford. "So..." (Not here for you. Sure.) "What was it that swayed you?"

Ford just glowered at Bill.

Bill pressed, "Was it that handy list of starter spells I gave you? I doubt it was my chess prowess, that wasn't my best playing." He laughed, "What am I asking for! You humans are suckers for a life debt. You can consider it paid off—a life for a life, fair and square—"

"It wasn't any of those."

Bill's smile disappeared. "Then what?" he asked. "Don't tell me you did it out of the goodness of your heart, I've seen enough of yours not to buy that—"

"It was Mabel."

Bill dropped his first cushion on top of the second and awkwardly tried to get his arms around both. "What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing." Nothing that had changed Ford's mind, anyway. "It's how you treat her."

"How I—?" Bill was so baffled that he almost looked offended. "What are you talking about? I haven't been treating her any way at all! I'm just... just goofing around with her. She's a fun kid."

"Exactly," Ford said. "If you can treat just one odd little girl with kindness, for no reason—then maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you." He sighed; he felt the sternness in his face slacken. He felt tired. "At least... I want to hope there is."

There was a flash of something Ford couldn't recognize in Bill's face. Something like pain; something nearly like guilt. It was gone almost as soon as he saw it.

"Well, sure," Bill said flatly, glancing away like Ford had lost his interest. "Why wouldn't I be nice to her? I like weird freaks." He managed to stand with his awkward armload and turned away, cutting the conversation off. "Anyway. It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. You should too," he shot back over his shoulder from the bottom of the stairs, "when's the last time you got decent sleep? Your eye bags are more... bag than... eye." Bill cringed at himself. "Don— Don't say anything. I'm tired." He headed up the stairs, his umbrella hooked over his left elbow. They'd have to get that umbrella back.

Tomorrow. Ford couldn't be bothered tonight. Bill wasn't killing anybody before morning.

Ford leaned on the doorframe where he could still see Bill. "I hid your hoodie in the box of spare bedding in the loft. Under the spare pillows."

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back toward Ford. "You didn't incinerate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I assumed you'd be back here eventually. I thought you'd want it."

Bill's face was unreadable.

He turned away from Ford and continued upstairs without saying a word.

Mabel's crayon drawing of Bill—"YOU CAN CHANGE. I BELIEVE IN YOU!"—felt like it was burning a hole in Ford's pocket.

####

Saturday, 7:52 a.m.

Bill stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar and timed his exit so he walked out of the Triple Digit Truck Stop just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

Gravity Falls really was a charming little town. Behind the times. The Triple Digit Truck Stop had expanded significantly in the past decades to add a convenience store and additional amenities for travelers, but the diner that made up the heart of it had barely changed. Same patchy grassy parking lot, same giant lumberjack sculpture watching over the cars... same public pay phones around the left side of the building.

He put in a few coins, punched in the number he'd memorized, and leaned against the wall while he waited to be answered. "Hey, Sue! Guess who?" A smile curled across his face. "That's right. Hey, how many people can say they've been personally called by god?" He laughed. "My Star Boy told you what preparations to make, right? Good. It's time. Midnight. Just north of the county line. I'll see you there."

Then he hung up the phone, left the clearing around the diner, and vanished into the trees.

Unless something dramatically changed, he'd be meeting his dear devotee that night.

####

9:30 p.m.

Something had dramatically changed.

His disloyal devotee had saved him.

It was a long walk to the county line. If Bill wanted to make his midnight meeting with his cultist, he had to leave before sunset.

He was still up on the cliff when the last of the light left the valley, pacing restlessly back and forth—first toward the side of the cliff overlooking the town (he could see the Mystery Shack's roof through the trees), then toward the side aimed away from the valley, toward the county line.

He should go. He needed to go. He needed to go now. He needed to go two hours ago.

He'd spent three out of the last four days hiking all over this town's forests and caves. In the last thirty-six hours he'd barely gotten a quick nap. (In the morning, when Mabel heard that Ford had covered for Bill, she'd come straight here.) He told himself he didn't have the energy for the hike to the county line. (What if Mabel got here and couldn't find him?)

If he didn't show up tonight, surely his cultist would try again tomorrow night. He'd go tomorrow.

It was fine. Everything would work out for him. Everything always worked out for him.

####

Sunday, 4:10 p.m.

He'd been right. Mabel had come straight here. As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched her wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth? Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Interesting question.

####

8:30 p.m.

It was a long walk to the county line. Bill packed his supplies—he didn't have that much to pack, he'd only ever needed enough food and shelter to last him a couple of days. He flung one backpack over each shoulder, closed and concealed the alien ship fragment, and shrunk his floating platform with the height-altering flashlight so he could wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in his second backpack.

And then, under the cover of the rain and the falling night, he began the hike north.

####

10:45 p.m.

Even to Bill's eyes, the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls was typically invisible. He could only see it where something touched it or passed through it, making waves travel out in circles from the point of contact. The circles glowed a dull coppery color at their peaks. Tonight, with the rain falling, the barrier rippled as though the rain were falling on the surface of a lake, and the whole thing glowed a faint filmy orange.

Precisely in the middle of the barrier was a sign marking the border of Roadkill County.

Ten feet beyond the barrier, just off the edge of the road, headlights and engine off and lurking beneath the trees, was a black car.

Bill walked straight through the weirdness barrier as though it wasn't even there. He didn't feel a thing.

The car engine started and the headlights turned on. Bill didn't even blink. The driver's door flew open and Sue popped out, fumbling to open an umbrella as she did. "Bill Cipher?"

"Hiya, Sue! You made it early."

"Oh, thank goodness." She hurried up to him. "I was so worried—I didn't know if I'd come to the wrong place, or if something had happened... And when I didn't hear anything from you the next day, and Gideon didn't know anything..." (Great, she'd gotten Gideon involved?) She started to offer Bill her umbrella, realized he was already holding a closed umbrella as a cane, looked up as she registered that no rain was falling on him, then stared at him in wonder.

"Yeah, sorry about that—an unavoidable emergency came up, I couldn't get out and couldn't call." And he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep. "But look at you, loyal enough to come try again the next night! You're a rare sort of human soul, you know that? This world could use more people like you."

Sue flushed with pleasure. "Oh... thank you, I..."

Bill tilted his head toward the car. "Let's not talk out in the rain, huh? Another car's coming by in about a minute, I think we shouldn't be seen."

"Right! Of course, my lord." She hurried back to the car.

"There's a terrific diner just a few minutes up the road. We can talk there, it's safe enough. Cute decor, too—have you ever seen a twenty foot tall lumberjack...?" He paused uncertainly by the car. "Hey, Sue? This'll sound silly—but I'm gonna need you to get the passenger door."

The car's interior lights flashed on as Sue opened the passenger door, long enough to catch the glittery purple nail polish on Bill's fingers. Sue gave it a curious look. Even though they'd just gotten painted three days ago, the polish was already scuffed again from his escape; but a few tiny flower stickers were still sticking to his nails.

Bill grinned. "There's a thirteen-year-old staying in the shack. Sweetest thing. She's a real artist."

"Oh! I see." A smile stretched across Sue's face. Bill suspected it wasn't for Mabel. That's right, your god's good with children. He lets little girls give him goofy manicures and proudly shows them off. Chicks dig that kind of thing.

When they were both buckled in, Sue hesitated, holding the steering wheel. "Lord Cipher... I wanted to say... if my... actions the last time we met were out of line in any way, I want to apologize—"

Bill placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and kissed her lightly. (He was so smooth. He mentally congratulated himself.) "Sorry if you got confused. I had to keep the outsider from getting suspicious, get it?"

She sucked in a small breath. "I... yes. Yes, of course."

"Don't trust anything I say or do when unbelievers are listening. The only time you can be sure I'm telling the truth..." his voice dropped to a near whisper, "is when we're alone."

He could see the goosebumps raise on her arms. "Yes, my lord."

He was so good—and his worshipers were so, so stupid. That was why they followed him. "Now, let's get to that diner, huh?"

As they got on the road, he studied his nails; to a normal human it was too dark to see, but to Bill's eyes they still glittered bright purple. The question Mabel had asked him earlier had been playing over and over in his mind all afternoon: Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Naive, trusting kid.

She really thought she was his best option.

######

"... And then, as if directly launching a psychic attack on my ethereal essence and forcing me into a mortal fleshly form wasn't bad enough," Bill said, "they imprisoned me! And get this: just to rub salt in the wound, they thought it would be funny to take a divine muse who's spent an eternity helping mortals build doorways between dimensions—and curse it so it can't open doors. I have to ask my kidnappers to open the fridge for me. Have you ever heard something so condescending?"

"Insane. That's just sadistic," Sue said. "After all you tried to do for them."

"You don't know what a comfort it is to hear a human say that."

They fell silent as someone approached. A waitress stopped next to their table. "Hey, I—Goldie!"

"Dani Miranda! Hey, how's it going! I see you found the treasure map I left you."

Dani was wearing two large gold earrings, two heavy gold necklaces each with a large gem-encrusted pendant, and four rings. "Yes, oh my gosh. I cannot believe you knew where a whole treasure chest was and you just gave it to me? That's the nicest thing ever?"

That's right, it was. "What are you doing working here! You can retire on that kind of money. Unless you want to rebury all that gold yourself?" He'd respect that.

"I'm still getting it appraised. Besides, I like talking to the late night travelers."

Bill ordered a strawberry banana shake, the monthly pancake special—which meant three quarters of the pile covered in stripes of strawberry sauce and cream cheese frosting and one quarter covered in a big puddle of blueberry sauce—floppy bacon, three eggs prepared "any way except scrambled," a cup of bleu cheese dressing, a cup of salsa, and a bottle of hot sauce. Sue ordered a water and a small grilled chicken salad.

(Bill tried to remember whether the Death Valley girls were one of his "purify the flesh by practicing harsh asceticism" cults or his "hedonistically revel in the pleasures of the senses" cults, in case he needed to make up a justification for why god was ordering pancakes instead of practicing what he preached—something something a human body containing a divine soul burns through much more energy, maybe—but no, he had the Death Valley girls on psychedelics, that was a hedonism cult. He kept them controlled through drugs, exhaustion, and poor air conditioning, not starvation. Small grilled chicken salad, indeed. The only thing stronger than cult brainwashing was diet industry brainwashing.)

When Dani was safely out of earshot, Sue lowered her voice and asked, "'Goldie'?"

"My captors decided to keep my identity secret so an angry mob won't execute me before they get the chance," Bill said. "The entire town's against the All-Seeing Eye named Bill; but only a handful know there's anything unusual about the handsome human in the Mystery Shack they've been calling Goldie."

She looked taken aback at the angry mob comment. "The entire town's against you?" Her gaze roved around the Triple Digit Truck Stop, taking in a lone trucker several tables away and a bored waiter scrolling on his phone behind the counter. "Is there anyone we can trust?"

"Gideon's on our side, of course—good kid—but, well... he isn't completely reliable. You know what happens with child celebrities. The fame and fortune spoils 'em a bit."

"I never would have guessed from his television appearances. He seems so... gracious."

Bill choked back a laugh. "He'll grow up all right—he's just going through a phase. But I'd rather not trust him with more involvement than necessary until he... matures a little."

"I understand." Sue sighed. "It's too bad the dawn of the new age didn't begin closer to us, where we could have assisted your work."

She didn't have the guts to question her god, but Bill heard the implicit question: why here? Why in some tiny tourist town that didn't even like tourists, buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere, amongst the ignorant ungrateful masses? "Yeah—too bad," Bill agreed with a shrug. "But hey, I didn't choose where the veil between worlds would be thinnest! There's energy in this town like nowhere else on your planet. It's the only place where a machine built with modern human technology is strong enough to punch through dimensions—and that's with the help of extraterrestrial equipment."

Besides, he didn't like Death Valley.

Dani returned from the kitchen. "One chicken salad, and one breakfast combo with the pancakes of the month."

"Great! I'm starving." Bill picked up the little plastic cup of salsa and dumped it into his shake. Sue choked on her water.

Dani's brows shot up. "Is—is that good?"

"What can I say, I've got the palate of an alien." (Sue choked on the sip she'd taken to recover from her first sip of water.) Bill poured the bleu cheese over his eggs, then started drizzling hot sauce on his pancakes. "Anyway, it keeps people from stealing my food."

"I guess so!" Dani laughed. She hovered near their table a little too long; and then she said, "Okay, I've got to ask: how did you know where to find buried treasure? I mean...!"

"I know lots of things." He fought down a smirk. "I happen to be psychic."

"No way." But she looked curious. She wanted to believe.

Bill had had a hunch that giving her that treasure would pay off. Nice to know his understanding of human nature was still sharp, even when he couldn't double-check the far future to see how his meddling would turn out. "If I wasn't psychic, would I have known your last name? Or where that treasure chest was?" he asked. "Or that you keep three pictures of tarantulas and a Canadian twenty in your wallet? Or that you have recurring dreams of trying to hide in sewer manholes from a fire-breathing dragon?" While he waited for her to process that, he triumphantly dug into his pancakes. He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating much more before his food got cold.

Dani's smile had disappeared. The blood drained from her face. "How...?"

"I'm... let's say, connected to a higher plain. I can see dimensions most humans can't."

"It's true," Sue piped up. (Bill took the opportunity to dig into an egg. Oh, the bleu cheese was a great choice.) "The insights h—she's offered me and so many others have been... life-changing. World-changing." Good girl.

"Insights?" Dani asked weakly.

Bill shrugged modestly. "You could call me a 'spiritual teacher,' I suppose, but that makes it sound like I'm preaching some kind of religion! All I do is teach people what I know and tell people what I see if I think it'll help 'em. Like if I see a bunch of buried gold that could change the life of a nice kid working minimum wage."

Dani reflexively touched one of her necklaces.

"You didn't think going to parties in togas was my full-time job, did you?" Bill laughed.

Dani laughed feebly too. She hadn't moved away. She was closer now, her thigh leaning against the edge of the table. "That's... wow. I've never met an actual psychic before. I mean—I went to one of Lil Gideon's live shows, but that was before the big scandal and his arrest."

"You hate to see a pillar of the community go down like that, don't you?"

"What..." Dani swallowed hard, lowered her voice, and asked, "What kinds of things does a psychic 'teach'?"

Got her. "It depends! Everyone's got different lessons they need to learn, right?" He slid out of his seat, nodded toward Sue, and said, "Excuse me ladies—I'd love to elaborate, but I'm afraid I need to hit the restroom. Sue, why don't you tell her what you've learned about, give her a concrete idea of what I do."

"It would be my honor."

As Bill passed Sue, he leaned over and whispered, "Don't mention triangles." And then he got out of her way, to let Sue do what his Death Valley girls did best.

####

When he returned to his seat, Sue leaned over the table and murmured, "I got her phone number and email."

"Good work. I bet she'd be an easy recruit."

"I bet. She's already asking how much lessons cost."

"What'd you say?"

"You offer your help to others for free, but cover your living expenses and travel costs with donations."

"Attagirl." It had been easier to use that line when he was a triangle—of course our great mentor and muse doesn't need money, he's above such earthly concerns; his mortal devotees who spread his word, though, subsist on donations... It was better for his image. They'd just have to modify their fundraising pitch for a while. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I invited you to this diner. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Sue's face. "I'll follow up with her by phone. It's a pity we don't have enough time to really put the pressure on her in person."

"Why not? I bet we'd win her over in less than a week."

"I've already contacted the main compound in Death Valley. We've got plane tickets for first thing in the morning."

(Bill's blood ran cold. Somehow, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that escaping Gravity Falls meant leaving Gravity Falls.)

"I have a motel room a few towns over, it was the closest I could find to Gravity Falls," Sue went on. "It's a straight shot to the Portland airport in the morning. Everyone's so excited—"

"Hold on," Bill said, figuring out what he was about to say next as he went. "There's been a last minute change of plans. I'm staying in Gravity Falls."

Sue stared at him. "But—my lord! You're a prisoner here, why wouldn't you come home to the people who love you?"

Love you, love you, love you. The word love alone was nearly enough to make him change his mind again. How he missed being revered. He could picture them now, these zealots who adored him so much they'd willingly bend their bodies into a throne to lift him up—and he didn't even need to turn them to stone first. It would be so easy to get away from all his human enemies forever...

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?

He shook his head. "Two reasons," he said. "One: no matter what, eventually I'll have to come back. The Age of the Triangle can only dawn in Gravity Falls. Staying makes it that much easier to get things started again. And two... I'm—working on a couple of potential recruits." He was? Wow. He was impressed at himself.

"You mean Gideon, or...?"

"No, others. One's the girl who helped me escape." He drummed his fingers on the table, calling attention to his purple fingernails. "She's a good kid. Lots of potential. Could be a real leader someday—she's a natural fit for our new world. She's got a few strings, but I'm working on helping her untie 'em."

Strings was a term that Mary, the leader of the Death Valley compound, had come up with and spread to the other girls: it meant petty mortal concerns that could tangle and tie you up, dragging you away from pursuing true spiritual growth and preparing for a better, liberated world. Your childhood religious beliefs were a string. The misguided ideas about morality you learned from the secular world were a string. Your job was a string. Your spouse was a string. Your family was a lot of strings. The intervention where your friends sat you down and told you they were worried about how much you'd changed lately and they were afraid you'd joined some kind of cult was a string. You had to cut them all.

And then Bill could tie on his puppet strings in their place.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. Fourteen at the end of the summer."

"Oh, wow—younger than I thought. That's great, kids are more open-minded," Sue said. "Though if she decides to join, it'll be hard to get her away from her family without a kidnapping charge..."

"Ugh, you don't need to remind me. I remember how we almost lost Karen and Jennifer. The legal system in this country is a mess." Bill had needed to torture that divorce court judge with nightmares for weeks before he caved and awarded Jennifer's mother sole custody so they could move to the Death Valley compound together. "But hey, got some good news: the other potential recruit. You remember the 'ex-cultist' who gave you gals my location. He turned on the humans who are pushing to execute me. He's almost back on our side. And he just so happens to be the girl's great-uncle. The family trusts him. If we can get 'em to pass her to him as her guardian, then she's ours. We can work out how to get her to the compound later." That was a lie. Bill was never handing Mabel to the Death Valley girls. She was better than them.

Sue looked less enthusiastic for this ex-cultist than she had for the girl. "Is he one of your captors...?"

Bill waved off her concerns, frowning. "Look. He's obviously been corrupted by the outside world. I lost contact with him for thirty years and he came back with more strings than a mop head. But I don't think he's beyond purification. He's already shown major improvement, now that he's once again under the shining light of my influence."

"But, this town..." Sue shook her head doubtfully. "Cipher, my lord, they nearly killed you once. You'd risk staying just to try to recruit two people? One who's already betrayed you—?"

"Yes!" Bill snapped. Sue flinched. "They're worth it." (He didn't question his own vehemence, his own anger at their value being doubted. He rarely questioned himself. If he asked questions, he might get answers.) "Don't you dare let this face fool you—I'm still your all-seeing god and I know what I'm doing better than you do. These two are perfect. The Age of the Triangle needs them. The traitor will repent. He WILL worship me again."

Sue stared at him with wide eyes; for a split second her breath froze in fear. She gave him a tiny nod. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Dani appeared at their table again. "Hey, how was everything?"

And Bill was immediately all good cheer. "Terrific, thanks!"

"Great!"

As Sue reached for her wallet, Dani waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it—it's on the house." She winked. "I think I can afford to cover it."

Already making donations to the cause. Pretty soon all the profits from her treasure chest would be in one of Bill's bank accounts.

As they headed back out into the rain, Sue said, "So, we're staying in town at least long enough to pick up another three recruits?"

"Maybe four," Bill said. "There's another kid in town I think needs some help finding a direction."

"Another? Is this one old enough to leave home alone?"

"Not for a couple more years—but she's dying to get out just as fast as she can," Bill said. "I think you can handle her."

####

They parked just up the road from the Mystery Shack and turned the headlights off.

"Here's everything Gideon said you wanted," Sue said, handing over a paper bag. "Candles, matchbook, knife, pens, spare notebooks, five thousand dollars, a burner phone, new clothes..."

Bill pulled out a flashy golden sequin-covered coat. "Oooh!" He dug around until he also found a button-up shirt and a pair of black opera gloves. He shrugged on the shirt.

"That's... what Gideon said you requested, right?" Sue eyed the tacky, gaudy coat uncertainly.

"As long as I'm in this body, I don't have the benefit of showing up glowing in people's dreams when I have something they need to hear! I need to make them pay attention any way I can." Also, normal people had boring tastes and sequins were fantastic. He buttoned up the shirt.

"I also brought—I—thought you might want..." She held out a large pendant on a thin chain. It was an eye inscribed inside a triangle inscribed inside a circle; rays radiated out from the eye, as though it were the sun. Bill's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of it.

He realized this was the first time since his death that he'd seen his own face in any form other than a thirteen-year-old's artwork—and his own corpse. His face was ubiquitous on this planet; it was plastered on everything from money to buildings to common consumer goods. Its conspicuous absence in Gravity Falls was uncanny.

"I'm not sure if it's inappropriate—"

"It's perfect." Bill snatched the necklace from her and fiddled with the clasp until he got it on. "Exactly what I need. What did I always say about your intuition?" He considered the gloves, decided he wasn't ready to pull them on quite yet, and shrugged on the coat instead.

She restrained a pleased smile at the flattery. "Thank you, my lord."

She looked out the windshield. Just up the road was a flock of wooden signs and arrows pointing which way to turn to reach the Mystery Shack. Bill wondered whether Sue's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see their silhouettes. Sue said, "If you're not coming back to us yet, then I suppose it's time to..."

"Hold on a minute," Bill said. "You've been a bigger help tonight than you know. If it weren't for your loyalty and diligence, I wouldn't have been able to consider escaping." Blah blah blah. The truth was he'd been soaking in her reverence for the past hour and a half, like a dehydrated cactus under a cloudburst, and he wasn't leaving until he'd sucked every drop from her. "There isn't a lot I can do for you right now, trapped in this form, but you deserve a reward." He leaned toward her, his elbow against her car seat, hand on the headrest. "Let me express my gratitude the way I would have if we hadn't been interrupted during our last meeting." He tilted his head toward the back seat.

She froze as she processed the offer; and then she leaned in to kiss him hungrily.

####

"The tide's changing in this town," Bill said, pulling on his gloves, smoothing his hair back into place, putting his new coat back on. "The dawn is coming. You should stay in town now that our enemies are losing their teeth."

"Yes, Lord Cipher," she said breathlessly, still trying to get her wits about her.

(From what Bill had eavesdropped between her and Dani while he was pretending to be in the restroom, he was right that she'd been one of his "dissatisfied housewife" converts. This was probably the first time she'd ever been touched by somebody who understood anatomy. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to return the favor. But he'd been touched by reverent hands, he'd tasted tears, he'd heard a voice whine "Bill, my god, my god, my god—" That would have to hold him for a while.)

"And ditch the rental. Buy a used car," Bill said. "There's a place in town called Gleeful Auto Sales. Ask Bud for the best car on the lot, pay whatever he asks—and tell him Mr. Locke sent you."

"'Gleeful' as in...?"

"His father. My Star Boy was the only person in town who supported me—and the town's turned on his family for it. They could use our help."

Sue pursed her lips in displeasure. "Of course."

Bill gestured toward his door. "I think we've put this off long enough."

While he waited for her to get his door, he slung his two backpacks over each shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "'Coffee break's over; back on your heads.'"

Sue opened the door; he picked up his umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

As he walked back to his prison, he tucked his necklace beneath his shirt.

Bill reminded himself that he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Ford had thrown away the one shot that could have killed him. He was safe.

####

1:20 a.m.

As Stan followed Ford into his underground study, he shot a glance at the barren far end of the room. He grumbled, "Nice to see you haven't started putting triangle posters back up."

"I'm not..." Ford sighed in irritation. "Never mind."

"So what's so important that you had to drag me down to your nerd cave? If this isn't good—"

"I didn't waste our shot."

"What?"

At his metal worktable, Ford unlatched the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case and opened it. "You said I wasted the only fuel we had. I didn't." He detached the NowUSeeitNowUDontium's fuel tank and held it out. The needle on the side indicated it was about a quarter full—nowhere near its full capacity, but enough for one shot, and just as much as they'd brought home from Fiddleford's.

Stan gaped. "But... hold on—we saw that shot through the walls. How the heck did you fake...?"

"Before he started developing a process to generate Dontium, Fiddleford came up with a power adaptor that could plug into the town's electricity." Ford picked up the power cord wound up in the carrying case. "He determined that it only gave the Destabilizer enough power to operate like a laser, not destroy matter and energy, so we still needed to develop the Dontium... but, I still had the cord on hand."

####

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

He slid out its fuel tank, returned it to the case, and pulled out the cord.

He climbed down to the bedroom; unplugged the room's air conditioning unit from its dedicated higher voltage wall socket; and plugged in the Quantum Destabilizer's cord.

In the loft, trying to figure out how to plug the other end of the cord into the Quantum Destabilizer, he was suddenly struck by the hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around; the eye on Bill's hood stared at him resentfully.

Ford stared back at it a moment; then he stood, pulled the hoodie off the dummy, and stuffed it into a nearby box.

He knelt. He plugged in the cable. He carefully lined up the shot with the dummy.

He fired.

####

12:09 p.m.

The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still as the unplugged air conditioning unit fell silent. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.

Every light in the house went out as the Quantum Destabilizer's power adapter drained every drop of electricity in town.

####

12:10 p.m.

The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. There was a pile of ashes three feet in front of Ford's knees.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done:

The Quantum Destabilizer, at full power, completely destroyed all matter and energy.

It didn't leave behind ashes.

####

Monday, 1:23 a.m.

Ford said, "Bill left a letter in the attic asking me to help cover his getaway. If I didn't fire the gun, Bill would have known I'd told you he escaped. But if he could see the Quantum Destabilizer firing, he'd think I'd chosen his side. The only way to lure him back to the shack was by making him think I'd used up the only substance we have that could destroy him." He muttered, "Granted, I'd assumed he'd try to contact me secretly rather than knock on the door in the middle of the night, but..."

Stan gaped at Ford. Then he burst into loud laughter. "Sixer, you tricky sonova! I don't believe it!" He socked his arm. "I oughta retire from the conning business and hand it over to you!"

A smile slowly crept up Ford's face.

Stan pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "So we can go up there and finish him off now, right? Just wait for him to fall asleep, and...?"

Ford's smile disappeared. "No."

"N—What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I..." He took a deep breath as he chose his words. "I was serious, earlier, when I... said I want to give him a chance."

"Wh—? Still? Ford, come on, you can't think he deserves it?"

"No. Of course not. Not even close." Ford didn't hesitate. "But... does he need to deserve a chance to get one? I wonder if maybe Mabel's on to something. If he could be better, he can't show us unless we give him the second chance—before he's earned it." He sounded like a lunatic. "He can't earn it if he's dead."

Stan looked for a moment like he wanted to argue; and then something painful flashed through his eyes; and then he looked away from Ford, scowling to himself as he thought. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Darn it, I don't wanna do it either. The creep's actually starting to grow on me. Like some kind of foot fungus."

Ford huffed. "What's important is, if we give him a chance and he throws it away, I haven't left us unarmed." He gestured to the unplugged fuel tank.

Stan looked at the tank; then looked at Ford. "You could've told us about the power cord trick yesterday, and you didn't." Stan crossed his arms. "Be honest. Do you really think, if it came down to it, you'd be able to pull the trigger now?"

"No." And again Ford didn't hesitate. "I want to believe I could; but I... don't trust myself. Yesterday morning, I never would have thought I'd decide against executing him for any reason. I know Bill's playing games with me, and yet I'm still playing along—so what else might I do?" He shrugged helplessly. He hated that Bill could still take control of his mind—even when he couldn't physically get inside it. "To some extent, he's gotten into all our heads."

Stan grimaced, but he didn't argue.

"That's why I think Fiddleford should keep the Quantum Destabilizer. He's never been taken in by Bill's tricks. If it becomes necessary, he won't hesitate."

"You know the situation's bad when Old Man McGucket's the voice of reason," Stan muttered. "But, I like that idea.  We can drop it off with him in the morning."

Ford sighed. "He's probably spent the last two days thinking Bill's dead. He won't be happy to see us."

As they walked back to the elevator, Stan said, "Maybe leaving Bill alive isn't an end-of-the-world bad idea. How much trouble can he get in when he can't escape that magic barrier around town?"

"That's true," Ford said. "He's essentially harmless—at least to the rest of the universe."

Ford didn't have anything to be afraid of. Bill was trapped in the weirdness barrier; and he couldn't even leave the shack without help. They were safe.

####

As fancy as his new coat looked, Bill was was grateful to crawl back into the comfortingly formless body-obscuring shelter of his hoodie. He pulled his hood over his face, curled up on his usual cushions (sigh) in his usual spot (sigh), and quickly fell asleep.

And began to dream.

And, in his dream, saw through his nearby eyes.

In his sleep, he could see the attic from where he lay on his cushions. He sat up, realized his vision was crooked, straightened out his hood, and stood; and he began sleepwalking.

He crept silently downstairs. He walked backwards into the gift shop. He walked up to a spinning rack of keychains that Soos had set up on the display case, took off his necklace, and hung it from one of the hooks.

He pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof.

Bill was very good at lying. Bill was very good at lying to himself. No, that wasn't true—Bill had never lied to himself in his life, and he was willing to kill anyone who tried to say he had. Bill didn't tell himself lies; he told himself what should be the truth. Believing in a new reality was the first step toward making it real. All you had to do was lie until you weren't lying anymore—and then, you'd never lied at all. It was very simple.

He'd spent billions of years swimming in and out of dreams, until he was more comfortable with how reality worked in dreams than he was with how reality worked in actual reality; and there was no other state of existence where the line between truth and lie was blurriest. Unlike the physical world, where altering reality tended to require a little more actual work, in a dream, lying until it came true really was as simple as thinking about your new truth.

That was all it took. One bright, lucid thought to shine order through the confused fog of the subconscious.

Bill was getting good at lucid dreaming.

Bill was dreaming now.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy called the trap doors in the ceiling "roof lids."

No, that wasn't true. A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy call the roof lids "roof lids," because that was what they were. Bill couldn't open doors, didn't have the first idea of what to do with a door, but he could open lids. Jar lids. Pot lids. Toilet lids. He'd practiced with toilet lids—they had hinges, that made them the most similar to roof lids. If he could open all those lids, he could open these lids.

As he stared, the trap doors changed, in the way that dream images had of swimming and shifting dizzily before your eyes, into roof lids.

He climbed the ladder, pushed up the roof lid, climbed through; and then opened the second one that led onto the roof. He moved so silently. The rickety rungs and old wooden boards didn't even creak beneath his footsteps. He climbed out, sleepwalked his way to the roof hangout spot, and jumped off the roof.

He descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the ground, as though gravity hardly touched him.

Almost a month ago, on his birthday, Stan had taken off his gold chain and chucked it off into the forest so he could put on his birthday gift instead. Bill had watched enviously from the window. Now, triumphantly, he scooped up the long-coveted chain and wrapped it several times around his wrist.

And then he went to the tree where he'd hung up his second backpack full of contraband and retrieved it.

There were several pine trees right next to the shack. As near-weightless as Bill was in his dream, it was easy for him to climb one of the trees and get back on the roof.

In the gift shop, the vending machine swung open as Stan and Ford returned to the house level. They went into the living room, heading toward bed. The All-Seeing Eye hanging on the keychain rack watched as the door swung shut behind them. After waiting a few more seconds to ensure they were gone, Bill slid down onto the ladder, shut the roof lid, and jumped noiselessly to the floor. He retrieved his necklace from the keychain rack.

This was a vending machine. It wasn't a door. It clearly wasn't a door. Bill punched in the vending machine's code and stepped back as it swung aside for him. He crept down the stairs.

This was an elevator. The elevator had doors, and he didn't know how to open them, but he wasn't worrying about those. The doors would sort themselves out somehow. All he cared about was the elevator. He was NOT trying to open the doors. He wasn't even thinking about opening the doors. He pushed the button to call the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. See, just like he'd thought: the doors took care of themselves.

He pushed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid shut.

As he rode down, he wove his new necklace's thin chain between the links of Stan's much thicker chain. Oh yeah. That looked much better. 

The doors opened again into the interdimensional portal's control room.

He put on his necklace and stepped out. It was about time he made it back here. Bill really should have taken more time to check this place out at the start of summer. Why had he been in such a rush to kill the Pines? He'd had time travel. He could have rebuilt the entire portal by himself, won the lotto in Texas, spent a week in a seven star hotel, watched the Titanic sink, become President Trembley's First Lady, gotten Mysterious Mo's autograph, planted a NASA rocket in an Aztec temple just to give those ancient alien morons an undeserved but funny win, and then come back to finish the job.

Well, hindsight, whatever. At least he had a list of things to do if he ever got his hands on that time tape again. Anyway, he was back now.

He didn't think he'd need to be asleep to get back into the gift shop, and he probably needed his full brain turned on for the task ahead. He pulled his hood off, opened his eyes, and woke up.

The world looked so much less malleable.

He fished a notebook and red and black pens from his backpack, picked his way through the rubble of the portal, and began taking notes in Plaintext on how many parts were salvageable. Every few minutes, he flipped a page forward to begin work on blueprints for a new portal.

####

(And that concludes... season 1. idk out of how many seasons, but it sure feels like a season finale, don't it?

Next week's The Book Of Bill y'all! I'll be posting a chapter, but which chapter depends on TBOB. If TBOB is either compatible with the backstory I've got for Bill, or so wildly incompatible that there's no way I can reconcile my backstory so don't bother trying, I'll be posting a flashback chapter! But if TBOB is compatible enough that i MIGHT be able to reconcile it with my backstory with a lot of editing, I'll be posting the first chapter of "season 2" to give me time to edit the flashback. We'll find out next Tuesday!

In the meantime, a whole lot happened in this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think—about this chapter, about everything that's happened so far, about what's coming up, whatever!)

[ryttu3k]

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Boom! Some negativity ahead, maybe a 6/10 overall.

Well that was about as subtle as a sledgehammer XD Yes yes the algorithm is bad, yes yes capitalism is bad, yes yes war industry is bad, yes yes religious extremism is bad. I agree with all that! And tbh there are people who do need that message to be about as subtle as a sledgehammer because they Do Not Get It!

But holy shit, this one made Orphan-55 look subtle XD

(That said, kind of adore the chutzpah of doing the Capitalism Is Bad story in the first season of the show as owned by fucking Disney.)

A… weird aesop at the end. "Blind faith is bad. Also, just because I don't like it, doesn't mean I don't need it, because apparently I need religious people to tell me what to do."

Splice was… odd. Grew up in a warzone, also launches herself into said warzone because Dad sent a weird message. Seems singularly unable to recognise what had happened despite, y'know, growing up in a warzone, but that's okay because Holodaddy mentioned seeing antelopes. I feel she was written to be much younger (like, five-ish), which is an issue with the casting, actually, because as it is she just kind of came across as dense as a sack of bricks. No, stupid child, you do not run into the minefield! I did see commentary about how chilling it was for her to be so easily placated by the AI, though, so that could be a deliberate choice, I guess?

Mundy is okay. Didn't make me go, "Yes, she absolutely needs to be the new companion!", which is a pity, and the whole romantic tension between her and the other dude felt whoppingly out of place. Yes, half the planet is going to blow up but that's okay, her crush likes her back! Hoping that either she's playing someone totally different as companion (like Freema Agyeman and Karen Gillan having smaller roles before being cast as companions, to say nothing of some of the actual Doctors!), or that Mundy actually develops some personality beyond 'romantic yearning', 'Christianity', and 'portents of doom'. That said, if she is playing Mundy again, I do enjoy the idea of Mundy Sunday XD

Last annoyance, promise - lmao god if Moffat's head was any further up his arse he'd be a mobius strip. Villengard (although setting the episode in the 51st century is at least consistent with its destruction), the Anglican Marines, preservation of dead people in incomplete digital formats, the president's wife poem/song thing, even fish fingers and custard. Dude. I know. You're still salty about being replaced as showrunner. Doesn't mean you have to yell about how great your era was by throwing in every single self-congratulatory reference you could think of XD

(That said: I much prefer him writing standalone/double episodes. Do Not let him write arcs or be showrunners, but he certainly can work a single narrative.)

Positive notes: Even if it was as subtle as a sledgehammer, I did enjoy the reveal - that there wasn't actually any war, and it was entirely a self-perpetuated conflict based on algorithm and profit. Like the writing could have handled it better, but the premise was really cool.

Ncuti Gatwa's acting was fantastic. Beautiful tension and stress. Loved him monologuing to Ruby's dead body because if he doesn't talk, he can't think right.

"I'm more explosive than I look - and honey, I know how I look."

"Ruby, I forbid this." "Yeah, good luck with that :)"

"- and frankly, your lifespan sucks." (Just wanted Ruby to go, "Dude. I've been dead for the last ten minutes.")

Continuity

Enjoying the continuation of Ruby's snow.

Susan Twist has appeared again, although I still have no idea what this could be building up to. Much bigger role than some of the earlier ones.

This is Ruby's first alien planet, but The Devil's Chord implies she's been travelling with the Doctor for six months? So this would have to be set before Devil's Chord, or else they've just spent six months in space stations and time travelling on Earth alone.

A lot of emphasis on the Doctor as a father, tying in with his mention of Susan last episode, which also dealt with the familial connection between the Toymaker and Maestro and the whole Pantheon thing, and brought up the stuff with Ruby and her lineage again (the AI glitching out when trying to work out her next of kin, although I feel Moffat forgot that… next of kin doesn't mean 'blood relative'… she has a Mum!). I feel there's definitely going to be something about the Doctor's family in this season as well as Ruby's. The TARDIS identified her as human, but could there be a connection?

Season ranking

As of s40e03:

The Devil's Chord

The Church on Ruby Road

Space Babies

Boom

And on a deeply silly note: I initially heard 'Kastarion' as 'Karstarion' and went :D because BG3 ship mentioned <3

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2022 Anime Overview: Five Anime!

I’ve done a lengthier review of Mobile Suit Gundam:The Witch from Mercury you can read here and now it’s time to tackle the five other anime I watched last season!

There’s some anime I chose to save for later, like Bocchi the Rock! (which I’m watching now and enjoying) and Raven of the Inner Palace, though I’ve heard great things about it and it’s a rare shoujosei adaptation so definitely go check it out! I might do a review of that when I do get to watch it, since it’s been overlooked this season with so many heavy hitters.

But onto what I did watch!

Akiba Maid War

This jaw-dropping genre pastiche takes the tropes of yakuza cinema and applies them to early 2000′s maid cafes in Akihabara locked in bloody war. Young Nagomi dreams of working in a maid cafe, only to find when she goes to work for the Oinky-Doink cafe (yes, they’re pig themed) that the cafe is heavily in debt and rival maid cafes are gunning to take it down. She’s protected by the deadly 35 year-old maid Ranko, who has a dark past.

Akiba Maid War is wild from start to finish. It starts up with shootout where Ranko kills a ton of maids perfectly timed to a cutesy maid cafe music performance and doesn’t let up from there. There’s a side-splitting bloody baseball episode, a deadly boxing match, and more. The comedy is endlessly entertaining- the way the maids continue to use their stupid animal puns even as they engage in yakuza style violence kills me- but it also has quite a few dark twists in line with its inspiration. This a show that could have easily come off as making fun of conventional femininity or indulged in tons of fanservice, but it doesn’t do either of those things. It’s just women in ridiculous outfits fighting each other and getting into ridiculous situations. It’s just utterly committed to its bit in a way that’s admirable.

I wouldn’t saw this a show with many big themes- though there’s the expected “can we stop the cycle of violence” one that comes up later. But there are some smaller things it’s very consistent about, and one of them is the message that if you want to be a cute, you are, and fuck anyone who says otherwise. Ranko is 35 (later 36) and is also utterly terrifying with a deep voice, but she repeatedly states that age has nothing to do with being cute or a maid, and when rival maids shit-talk her for being older than them they’re always framed as villains and shut down. The series coda especially hammers in it’s message of ‘women in their 30s are cute and can be whatever they want’. This shouldn’t be notable, but anime is well known for acting like any woman over 22 is a hideous old...maid, so it’s actually pretty refreshing. Ranko is fantastic.

If you can stomach exaggerated violence (I would call it an anime that revels in gore and the violence is cartoonish half the time, but lots of folks get shot), I definitely recommend this one. It’s a fun (and occasionally heartbreaking) ride. Definitely in my top 5 for the year.

Chainsaw Man

After being exploited by the yakuza ,the teenaged Denji gains the ability to turn into a ‘chainsaw devil” and is recruited by a shady government organization. He’s told that if he doesn’t work for them to kill other devils, he’ll be killed himself. Denji’s perfectly happy with this, because after a hard life he’s only interested in a warm bed, three meals a day, and his dream of touching a boob. Teamed up with a blood-crazed demon girl and babysat by a tired veteran demon hunter, Denji doesn’t realize the ominous machinations closing in on him...

I enjoyed this anime, and it inspired me to read the manga, which I enjoyed even more. It’s a fun time full of monsters and weirdos and there are themes of being exploited by your workplace and all that good stuff. But I’m not going to count it among my favorites, because honestly, the early Chainsaw Man material isn’t the strongest. Though a good deal of it is needed to build up what the manga does later, a lot of it feels meandering.

Denji is also a bit repetitively horny in the early chapter/episodes (though he at least hops the bar-in-hell most horny anime boys don’t manage to slither over and doesn’t violate consent). Unlike most horny anime guys, his immature attitude is a little understandable as he grew up isolated from other people with little education, this is all new to him. He does develop as a character (shocking twist, I know) as he slowly gains more of an understanding of how to approach the idea of sex in a way that works for him. But it takes 5 episodes to get him on that track. I don’t blame the anime for this like most. They definitely added a few sequences to stretch things out, but it does adapt roughly three chapters per episode, which isn’t a bad pace (and is pretty much needed to fit the first arcs into a 12 episode space). And if they cut anything out, fans would be throwing an even bigger fit than they already are. (It’s very funny to see the same fans that complain about the slow pacing turn around and complain about a small sequence cut out of the second episode. WHICH IS IT GUYS, THEY CAN’T DO BOTH).

I think Chainsaw Man fans need to acknowledge the early material just isn’t as as good as the later stuff, and being able to binge-read it in manga form just helps. The anime can’t do much about that, and it’s clearly a cinematic all-star production, with lovingly animated new ending credits and songs for each individual episode, so I don’t have a lot of sympathy for complaining fans when I had to endure Sailor Moon Crystal and a million yuri adaptations kneecapped by production woes. It’s a good anime doing what it can with the material it has, y’all try having real anime problems for once.

Rant aside, Chainsaw Man has a lot of good action, and importantly to me, a fun range of fucked up women. It’s also the rare anime that plays into the horror of an adult woman grooming a teenage boy. The anime does a good job of throwing up the red flags for Makima, yet she’s so good at what she does you almost fall for her alongside Denji. There’s also the loveable, feral demon-girl Power, who hits a lot of my adoration buttons. I do love that for once, the guy and girl teen leads of a shonen manga are truly just buddies, she and Denji have a fun vitriolic friendship. Because of the themes of the story,  there’s an unlikely confluence most of the women Denji meets manipulating him by offering sexual favors, which is unfortunate if you read into it. But I honestly just think the author just likes terrible women, which hey, same. Overall, the anime got me to read the manga, and now that I’ve devoured it all, I’ll be happy to consume next season at whatever pace it goes. I just hope those unfortunate animators at Mappa get some rest.

Do it Yourself!

Teenager Yua Serufu (yes that’s a pun and it is bought up) is separated by the best friend who gets into a fancy tech school. Yua is endlessly clumsy, but when she runs into a cool girl, she becomes interested in joining the Do It Yourself! club and do some carpentry and crafting. The club quickly grows, but can Yua lure her estranged bff into the fold?

This is just a cute show with cute animation about girls working with power tools. It’s relaxing and sweet and there’s not much else to say about it. It’s set five minutes into the future, but it did handle it’s themes of tech vs analogue well, with the ultimate message being “now that we have all this cool tech, we should focus on doing what we want, like working with our hands”, which is nice in these troubled times. The characters are very archetypal- Yua’s friend is a sympathetic tsundere, there’s a girl who says ‘nya’ a lot, etc. It’s a little noticeable that the American exchange student is way more fleshed out than the South-Asian one (we don’t even get her country of origin stated in the show) and there’s a weird moment with the little robot watching the girls bathing. Other than that, not much to warn for. It’s a sweet show, but it likely won’t set your world on fire.

Spy x Family Season 2

More Spy x Family, and it continues to be a lot of fun! I enjoyed season 1 a  lot, but unfortunately this season covers some of the weaker material in the manga, where the story seemed to be spinning its wheels with a lot of one shots. Because of how the seasons are separated, it’s also incredibly noticeable how underutilized Yor (assassin mom) is in this one and how little we know about her job. Honestly, I don’t think that’s entirely down to sexism or anything, I wonder if the writer was just struggling with how to make readers root for Yor hunting down and killing a man- it’s a pretty big ask for that to be the main focus of an arc in a family-friendly comedy. But fortunately, he does eventually figure it out, and there’s a good Yor arc full of strong material coming up right where this season cuts off, so look forward to that.

For some reason, they also cut out one of my favorite sidestory chapters with Yor. Considering that they adapted all the other sidestories and even added material this season, I wonder if they’re just saving it for the next one? They better be. Anyway, Anya’s still great, there’s a cute dog, it’s still a fun anime, but not as strong as the first season. Fortunately, there’s good stuff coming up.

Mob Psycho 100 Season 3

It’s the final season of Mob Psycho! This is a quieter season than Season 2, but the show’s themes of identity and accepting oneself remain strong. Episode 6 made me emotional about a character I’d never had any emotions about before, there’s a cute little mini-arc focusing on everyone’s favorite weird alien-obsessed girl and the finale is a perfect cap on both Mob and Reigen’s development. It’s a beautiful culmination of all the growth we’ve seen in the  relationship that’s the heart of the show. I appreciated that, as small as they were, we got some glimpses of the real, grounded girl that exists behind Mob’s idolization of his crush Tsubomi. It was a nice touch that she lost her sparkly anime eyes and she got plainer ones like the other characters as it was impressed on us she doesn’t exist on a pedestal. It’s just all around solid material. I’ll miss this show a lot.

[aroace-cat-lady]

The Extraordinaries

Fuck you TJK and your stupid tendency to make me have feelings. I hate you so much for that.

Anyways, it's 2:50am rn. And talking about this book is gonna take me a long time. Because I absolutely loved it.

Like. I just don't know were to start. The dedication made me cry. The first chapter is one of the most hilarious yet deepest things this guy has written. His foreshadowing is amazing (hate you for that too, Klune). I'm never gonna get tired of his writing, from his representation to his sense of humor.

I do think this book isn't for everyone. I adored each second of it for plenty of reasons: the characters are fantastic, the premise is good and this fucking guy just has a way to make you want to eat the stupid book with just a couple of pages. But what really did it for me was the way he portrait neurodivergency.

Screw you, Rick Riordan (/j you're pretty ok). Nicky Bell is the kind of character I would protect with my life. I wish I was joking. But he's just that. I hate to feel seeing, and normally reading about a character I relate embarrassed me and it's uncomfortable for many reasons but mostly because it doesn't happens too often. But this guy. This guy. God, this guy. It didn't make me feel just seeing. It didn't make me feel like some personality tread. It make me feel... valid?? Idk how to express it. THE POINT HERE IS that reading this goddamn book was like reading a booklet about my brain. Wasn't weird, because TJK didn't made it weird. A brain is a brain even if not every brain is the same. Was amazing. And thank god my biggest hyperfixation isn't a real human being but a book character cuz ohhh Lorde, I would've been just like Nicky.

And the verbal vomit was so relatable I swear to fucking god--

And I read some reviews on goodreads and I stand with what I said before: this isn't for everyone.

I'm pretty use to how TJK writes his books. I know that the first 30-50% is gonna be one thing, after that TJ blows your mind/breaks your heart, then you start crying/panicking, but finally all the pieces fall in their places, and we have a wholesome final chapter, it ends. And then TJK announces Midnights: 3am tracks and you won't sleep 'till 5am.

This works for me. I know it doesn't for everyone.

Now, this is the first book of a trilogy. Which means is an introduction to such trilogy. I trust TJK enough to know the couple of breakdowns I had reading this won't compare to the tons of crying I'm gonna have to go thru while reading the other two parts.

Okay so. I pretty much talked about what I wanted to talk, so now I'm just gonna point out a few things I also loved from this book:

Secondary characters. All of them are incredible.

Plot twist?? Tbh I have never been good to know when a plot twist is a plot twist cuz most of the times I'm like Yeah, called it. And I did called it. All of them. So, yei me :)

Skwinkles Salsagheti. Look, I'm mexican. I took this personal. I'm gonna go full fangirl mood at the store because a white guy decided to put them in his book. I'm serious, independence day don't make me half as proud as it did that his wholesome ship gifted this stupid candy to each other.

Ao3. Tumblr. I don't need to say more.

Seth Gray. God. Nicky and I are the same cuz we both know this guy is the most adorable human being and feel a need to squeeze him everytime he shows up. But I'm aroace and Nicky is Nicky so we had different reasons to do it. But still. Adorable.

References. I have this thing were is curse TJL very loudly everytime I see a reference to his other books. Like, there's no other scenario were I scream YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH as much as I do reading TJK. It's amazing.

Definitely I'm missing some stuffs. But least assume they are cool stuffs.

Okay, so. I have to point out this too: the mc's dad is a cop. Some ppl got mad because of the way TJK talked about cops here. In the "this is police propaganda" way. I didn't feel it like that, but I'm not american. This was published in 2020, which means was written between 2018 and 2019. I'll let you guys decide what to do with this.

To conclude: it's 3:34am my dad is throwing up in the bathroom and fuck you TJK cuz I'm gonna keep reading your stupid books cuz the queer representation just hits different. And they make me laugh so much. And just. Screw you.

[ddejavvu]

Thanks in advance if you decide to write this. What if Hotch's next door neighbors are college students (frat boys type) who have a crush on Reader and whenever she comes over to Hotch's they make up excuses to see her like knocking and asking for stupid shit like salt or toilet paper, and obviously hotch sees through their shit.

The dull knocks on Aaron's door instant made him tense, your hand patting sympathetically against his thigh.

"They're here again," Aaron spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm going to talk to them."

"They'll just come back when they know you're gone," You sighed, reluctant to let your husband up off of the couch to storm to the door, "Just leave it, they won't know we're here unless you open the door."

"I want them to know that I'm here." He huffed, gripping the doorknob so tight you thought he'd snap it off. He yanked the door open, and you watched the one side of the interaction that you could see from your spot on the couch, your husband's face set in his intimidating glower.

"What do you boys need this time?"

"Your wife-"

"We need your wife to bring us some toilet paper." One of the college students cut off the other one, and his lazy grin was practically audible in his smug tone, "Can she come to the door?"

"She doesn't want to." He snapped, eyes ablaze, "Leave."

"Well just tell her we're here-" One of them started, but Aaron already had the door half closed in their faces.

"She knows it's you. That's why she doesn't want to come to the door. You know, I think it's ironic that three human shitstains are asking for toilet paper, but I know you don't actually need it, it's just a ruse to ogle my wife. So if you'll kindly leave her alone, that would be fantastic. And if you don't, I'll kindly stomp your heads against the curb. Do you understand me?"

You couldn't hear anything from the three frat boys, but you knew the look that anyone snapped at by Aaron usually donned, and you'd die to see it on their faces.

Apparently, they didn't put up much of a fight, and you didn't blame them. Aaron slammed the door only seconds later, his footfalls heavy against the floor as he stomped back to the couch. He sat down with a huff, curling his arm around you when you draped yourself over his chest again, eyes lazily tracking the movie that was playing.

"That was harsh," You teased, two fingers poking at the sides of his heavy-set frown to mold it into a makeshift smile, "I bet at least one of 'em's gonna cry."

"Good," Aaron grumbled, the smile you'd manufactured on his face taking on a life of its own as he stared down at you, "They're so bold."

"Well you don't need to worry," You sighed, your eyes droopy as you laid your cheek against Aaron's chest, "I'm all yours, no matter how many admirers I have in the building."

Aaron chuckled deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest. You curled impossibly closer to him, a yawn escaping your mouth as your fingers twisted themselves idly in the fabric of his shirt.

You missed the way he was looking down at you, your gaze hanging blearily on the television, but you felt it, the adoration pouring from him tangible even if you didn't see it.

"I love you, sweetheart." He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, then after a moment of silence, added, "But seriously, let me know if they come back. I'll have Morgan bust up one of those disgustingly loud parties they have, 'n see if they've got anything left to say after being raided by the FBI."

"Don't freak them out," You mumbled, giggling lightly against his shirt, "They won't come back, trust me. Not after you put them in their place."

"But if they do-"

"If they do," You stretched lithely, another yawn slipping past your lips as you let your eyes finally slip shut, "You can protect me, I promise."

[alolowrites]

Smack That

Summary: Bakugou has a lot of discipline, but he’s still a man who loves your ass.

Author’s Note: Heyyyyyy *nervous chuckle* how’s it going? I really wanted to get one more story out before 2021 ended and OF COURSE it was Bakugou lmao. I got inspired by a tik tok vid with a gym couple but added my little ~spicy~ twist at the end hahaha. Nothing too crazy (aka no smut, im sorry :/) Also everyone is aged-up! 

Story is kinda a sequel to Gymtleman if y’all wanna read it. 

Enjoy :D 

Word Count: 584

Growing an ass was a process that didn’t happen overnight. You must put in the work, put in the hours, and most importantly, put out a whole lot of tears at the gym. Luckily for you, those tears passed off as gritty sweat that just so happened to fall out of your eyes. 

You plopped on the bench, chugging down the water like a lost traveler who hadn't drunk anything for days. Instant relief washed over you, but the battle was far from over. You took a few moments to rest your aching muscles before trekking toward the dumbbells. The next set wouldn’t be any easier than the last one—Bakugou ensured this. 

After months admiring him from afar at the gym–plus an additional five months of dating–you’ve come to realize that Bakugou doesn’t half-ass anything, especially if it was your ass. He was tougher than a drill sergeant, pushing you to go above and beyond because he knew you had the potential. It was a complete mystery how you managed to survive this long at the gym with him.

You stared at the dumbbells, your chest heaving a bit. The fifty-pound weights were the correct choice, but the twenty-pound pair looked tempting. You glanced over your shoulders and saw Bakugou was busy on the bench press across the room. There was no way he would notice the tiny switch for your next set. You snatched the lighter pair—what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

But more importantly, it won’t hurt you or your dying legs. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you muttered, taking in a deep breath to push through the last set of the day. Except you barely had a chance to start after someone yanked the dumbbell out of your grasp. You shot up, annoyed. “Hey, what gives–oh.”

Bakugou gave you a firm look. 

“Sup, babe!” You stupidly hid the other dumbbell with a nervous chuckle. “Done with chests so soon?” 

“Give it.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

You passed the dumbbell to him. Bakugou put them away and carried over the correct pair without breaking a sweat. You almost fell forward after holding the fifty-pound dumbbells that weighed like an anchor for a navy ship. 

“Really, babe?! It’s heavy!” 

“That’s the point,” Bakugou snorted, crossing his arms. “How else is that ass gonna grow?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grunted and gripped the dumbbells tight. Feeling cheeky, you wiggled your butt at him. “No pain, no gain, huh?” 

“That’s right.” 

You gasped at the hard sting on your cheeks from Bakugou’s greedy slap heard around the world, or at least the gym. You searched over your shoulders; so far, no one was looking your way. For once, the ego lifters’ loud, obnoxious grunts were a gift sent from above instead of the usual headache. 

“Katsuki! What the hell?!” You whacked Bakugou’s chest and hissed, “We’re in public!”

“Tch, so? I’m just feeling your progress,” Bakugou laughed, his eyes checking you out. He didn’t try to keep his hands off you again, squeezing your body as though you were his personal toy. He growled into your ear, “Gonna have to do a thorough check when we get home.”

Bakugou smacked your ass once again, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a stupid grin. Sure he might be more disciplined than a drill sergeant, but Bakugou was still a man who had a weakness for your glorious ass. And he’ll make sure to appreciate it with a hearty smack that will leave you sore for days.

Don’t come at me if there’s a Bakugou handprint on your cheeks the next day aksjdhsakjdjh. 

Thank you for reading! And have a fantastic new year :D I will manifest good vibes for y’all for 2022.

[keilemlucent]

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader 

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch. 

You were put out. 

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden— 

His voice shocked you from your thoughts. 

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?” 

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways. 

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride. 

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it. 

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you. 

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea. 

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words. 

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away. 

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you. 

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin. 

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed. 

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was. 

“I-I can change—” 

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point. 

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you. 

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could. 

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted. 

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably. 

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’ 

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt. 

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible. 

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion. 

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

 “Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been— 

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning. 

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine. 

“‘Uh-huh’, who?” 

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before. 

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced. 

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled. 

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you. 

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot. 

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting. 

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!” 

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch. 

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue. 

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking. 

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs— 

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver. 

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest. 

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?” 

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

 “Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass. 

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

 And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.” 

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks. 

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands. 

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler. 

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e��� nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise. 

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more. 

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course. 

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!” 

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead. 

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings. 

 “TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?” 

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position. 

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

 Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same. 

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine. 

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation. 

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut. 

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....” 

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed. 

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest. 

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’. 

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?” 

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you. 

....

thank you for reading!!! check out my links (ko-fi, ao3, and twitter!!)  

[chantalstacys]

What books have you been reading lately? I love romance novels too 🙈 they’re so fun

romance novels are fun!!! i just started reading them this year, before i pretty much only read biographies and classic fiction. everyone always told me that romance novels were supposed to be trashy and stupid but i’ve been enjoying them ☺️ so whatever to them

anyway! you can look at my books tag for other books i’ve read this year but here’s what i read since my last update~~

♡ the seven husbands of evelyn hugo (women’s fiction) i almost loved this one! i loved the story and i loved reading an old hollywood themed book but the writing honestly felt so dry, which was a shame because i really wanted to feel more invested in it. i really wasn’t that attached to anybody and honestly the twist didn’t really phase me

♡ finally read flowers for algernon and yes tears were shed and yes felt numb when i finished it and no i don’t want to talk about it. it was great and it moved me and frustrated me and i’m leaving it at that

♡ from the mixed up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler (children’s/YA) omg the CUTEST and funniest book i've read in a long time. this is what i needed after flowers. it truly spoke to my inner child because i definitely had (have?) fantasies of running away and living in a museum

♡ i’m currently finishing up how to fake it in hollywood (romance) and the first half was good but now i’m just trying to finish it and move on. BUT the spice is good lol. if you want to read a hollywood romance, funny you should ask is definitely the one i’d recommend first!!!

♡ things we never got over by lucy score (romance) it wasn’t what i thought it was going to be! from the cover art i thought it would be weepy and sappy but it was actually very fun and sexy and i was really charmed by it! it’s super long (perhaps longer than it needed to be) but i read it in two days

♡ tessa bailey!! i read it happened one summer, hook line and sinker (both romance) and my killer vacation (romance, mystery). IHOS had the best story and characters and spice by FAR. they’re all cute, casual reads and they feel like watching a movie

♡ DREAMLAND BILLIONAIRES BY LAUREN ASHER (both romance again lol) oh my god, the disney world fantasies of my dreams. terms and conditions was good (i love a good fake relationship) but the fine print is the one. it has a sexy, broody, secret artist “dreamland” (disneyland) heir, a cute girl that reads regency romance, a disney park date i read twice in a row, fantastic smut and it’s mostly set in a pretend disney world, so i felt like it was written just for me. i’m very excited for the last one to come out next year

anyway! that’s mostly what i’ve been reading lately. and now i’m really looking forward to my fall list 🍂 and i’m branching out a little more this season!

[datawyrms]

snap

It is The Day I post my Invisobang fic! it was a wild ride to write everything and not post. This is actually the second fic I did, as the first fell into my pit of ‘i hate it now’ and will sit in limbo for the rest of eternity. I teamed up with Spirit ( @ghostportals ), who has done some accompanying art! That, and Red @redead-red saved my bacon by doing some betaing last moment, so tell em they’re great too. Hope you’re all enjoying the flood of finished fics and art this week! Only the first chapter is here, the rest is posted on my Ao3 and complete. hope you enjoy!

One careless fall changed Danny's life forever. He was kind of hoping one fall like that was enough for any lifetime. Clearly fate disagreed.

It's fine though! He's got this. He's fine. He can totally explain why he ran off with his own body to mom and dad.

The stairs had always been a little too steep, a titch too narrow, but he was used to them. Jazz worried too much- the whole Fenton family knew how to take them two steps at a time. He wasn’t going to admit she might have a point just because he’d slipped one time. He wished there was a railing to catch himself with- it would have spared him some of the pain of his head knocking on the stair.

It didn’t hurt that much. Plenty of ghosts hit harder, and far more frequently.

“Took a bit of a spill eh, Danno?”

Great, dad saw him slip like he was three again. He wanted to speak, wave his behemoth of a father off before he got tangled up in some long lecture about whatever they were working on down here. Just had to sit up.

He was a little stunned or something. All those late nights made his limbs rebel when he wanted them to hurry up. Come on, before he tries to help and accidentally shaves his hair off with some anti-ghost stepladder or something.

His arms stubbornly rejected his internal horror story. His attempt to say ‘I’m fine’ was more a gurgle than anything. Way to go, Fenton. Do everything to get dad to worry! Really using those genius genes. Jazz probably stole his anyway, or they got fried in the accident. Come on! A bit of self berating should have him sitting bolt upright by now. Maybe his arm twitched. He felt something move, anyway. More like a muscle spasm.

“Danny? You okay?” The large man came closer, his usual jog slowed.

Of course he’s fine. He could see dad, sort of. He totally moved his eyes to see him better, even. Stupid ghost powers were just acting up.  It’s okay,  just give me a second to stand up. You’re worrying over nothing.

 Jack had already made it over, crouching to get a better look at his fallen son. Like he was trying to look smaller or something with how carefully he was moving. Where was all that slow, ginger movement when he was driving? Or trying to tell them about some new invention that might burn off your eyebrows?

 I’m fine, dad. He couldn’t get the words to come out, but he was just fine. He really didn’t like the strange look on his father’s face. After all, ‘Jack Fenton doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear’ or whatever random thing he felt like shouting when chasing after entities from another dimension. Come on dad, stop looking like that. It was creeping him out. Moving should be easy, a snap, but part of him didn’t feel like doing it. Apparently an important part? He could visualize exactly what to do, but he wasn’t sitting up. He swore he could feel his muscles clenching but not finishing the movement. Maybe they were testing something down here that just made all the ectoplasm hiding inside him take a nap. His ectoplasm was so fired after this.

 “Can you look at me kiddo?”

 Coaxing him. This was weird. Why wasn’t he just hauling him off the floor and laughing about how clumsy he was at his age too? Looking at him was easy. Pretty hard to miss him, with all the bright orange.

 “Maddie? Can you come over here?” His question was strangely stilted, not much of a bellow.

 Dad was going to get the wrong idea because his body didn’t want to cooperate. Great. Fantastic. He could feel the warmth in his chest, the sign his heart was still going. He was just fine, just a bit inconvenienced at the moment. Why couldn’t dad just be  dad  and do something dumb like pick him up with one hand while sounding way too excited about some new tool that he built?

 “What’s wrong?” His mom said, her footsteps doing the same thing dad’s had. Speed that suddenly cut down to almost nothing. “Danny, did you hit your head?”

 “I think he might have, he’s not responding. I didn’t want to try to move him-“

 “You did great Jack, it’s okay.”

 Gross. He hoped they didn’t get caught up in one of their lovey dovey circles while he was stuck trying to get his stupid legs to remember how to do things. He was responding! He groaned, and he definitely twitched a bit. Weren’t they paying attention? He tried again, a bit more forcefully and ignoring the pang in his neck. More of a jolt from someone with too much static cling than actual pain, really.

 “Should I call 911? He isn’t moving! He just stayed there- didn’t even act all tough for his old man!”

 Jack was panicking.  Dad was panicking. Over nothing! Why wasn’t mom distracting him with fudge or some random study? No one was being normal today. Danny shuddered, he knew he did, it went with the pulse under his skin.

 “That’d be great sweetie, just stay close.”

 “In case you need my big strong arms to help carry him, right?”

 “Just in case.” She wasn’t wearing the hood of her jumpsuit, at least.

 It didn’t make it more comfortable when she crouched down, biting her lip and staring at him. Like this was concerning. It was the opposite of that, he was a klutz, a gangly teenager, it was normal for him to be a bit banged up. This shouldn’t concern her, or anyone. The only reason it bugged him was the not being able to move right now nonsense.

 “You aware in there sweetie?” she said, rather loudly and clapping near his ear.

  Yes I am, but I can’t tell you. Maybe he could focus on taking a breath and it would kick off whatever turned off his mind to body connection. Had he done anything strange before coming down here? Not really. He could absolutely feel her digging her nails into his earlobe though, ow! More motivation to move, but something wasn’t getting across. Maybe he was getting a bit freaked out about it too. Only because of his parents being weird. He was fine, he had to be fine. It was nothing, less than nothing.

 “I’m just going to make sure he’s still breathing Jack, do you have anyone on the line yet?”

 A loud response, but not to her question. “No it’s not a ghost emergency! It’s a human emergency!”

 Of course he was breathing. He couldn’t look that bad from such a small fall. Just breathe out the words ‘Hey mom, personal space’ and they’d laugh and it’d be nothing. All this fussing was making his skin crawl but of course he had to have ‘special ghost freezing up’. Was it his ice powers? Like he could get his powers being snarky like that, appreciated it in a twisted sort of way- but it would be better around people who wouldn’t assume the worst? Like anyone else. Even Dash.

 “Tell the operator he isn’t breathing.” Maddie’s voice was cold and controlled, even as she went back to biting her lip right after.

 He was totally breathing. He could feel the air that ran in and out of his lungs, the swell and fall that other ghosts knew as a weak point, a way to slow him down. He knew what being doubled over, air shoved right out of him from a harsh blow felt like, how it felt like the portal again. Throat twitching, body heaving and trying to regain what it lost. The darkness that bit at the edges of his vision as every nerve went screaming  You’re Dying . Hated that feeling, shook the ghosts who did that hard once they were in a thermos. This was nothing like that.

 “He isn’t breathing, you need to hurry! My wife knows CPR- just tell them to hurry this is my  son , please”

 Yelling to hide the quaver in his voice. Like a kicked puppy yelping. It sounded so wrong. This was going to be so awkward after. They’d just...pretend this never happened, right? That’d be for the best. No, he was going to get grounded forever for some ‘dumb prank’, since he was fine and worried them so much. Which didn’t seem too bad if it stopped all of...this.

 He moved a little. A toe, he was pretty sure. More notably was his mother, carefully getting him off the uneven stair to be flat on his back. Trying to keep his head from moving, and she couldn’t see he was looking at her? When she was this close? Too busy trying to be calm. Who could be busy enough to think he wasn’t breathing or tracking with his eyes? Another twitch, another inward curse that he couldn’t get back in control.

 “Just hold on, help is coming.” She said, but the half ghost couldn’t tell who she meant, exactly. Him, dad or herself? Either way the quiet remark did not prepare him for the sheer force slammed into his crest. Like she wanted to slam right through him! Was it so much to ask that his parents stop nearly killing him by trying to help? Just try moving again and everything will be fine.

 He couldn’t keep the mental mantra up when he heard- when he felt his ribs crack from the pointless force. She was killing him, he didn’t need help breathing, he had to get it through to them no matter how much his body buzzed and resisted his need to move. He had to focus and push through it, ignoring how cold and wrong it felt, how it seemed like he was squirming free of something that didn’t want him to go.

 Her bone crushing assault stopped once he got his arm up, not even needing to touch her before she froze. The fear was wrong, out of place so he redoubled his efforts, twisting and struggling against himself, the sticky mass that wasn’t letting him act or speak to calm them down.

 The phone hit the floor. He heard it. So why didn’t dad say anything? Danny twisted, wanting to make sure he was okay. Still stuck. At least he had a hand free and most of an arm, the edges of his fingers tracing the tiles of the floor. He could brace himself that way, pushing down hard to try and jar his shoulder loose. He could hear air moving, like a harsh breath out. Good- breathing was good. Even when it sounded so harsh and low. 

 “Jack- are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Maddie moved back, giving him the space he wanted ever since she’d cracked his ribs. They still stung under his skin, hissing at him to keep his parents away before he managed to get even more injuries over something so silly.

 “I’m not sure what we’re seeing.” The phone remained on the floor.

 That didn’t seem right. He’d sat up, mostly. Half sat up, propped up with an arm. Still mostly stuck and uncomfortable, the snapping and crackling sensation still clinging to his free shoulder. Really, he felt worse than how he started. at least there wasn’t pain in ‘hah my body is playing freeze tag without me’ land. The pulling sensation made his head ache and vision swim to the point he wasn’t actually sure if he was still looking at the ceiling or not. He couldn’t go back to just being frozen though, that’d suck. So just convince the rest of himself to get up. No problem!

Were lies in his head always this unconvincing? It felt like yanking himself free of a too sticky slime, strands clinging and tugging back until they finally snapped, parts still stuck but free of the main mass. At least ectoplasm had the decency not to stretch when you got drenched in it most of the time.  Come on, focus and keep it together.  He let out a wheeze as the last stubborn strands snapped, ignoring how loud it sounded to properly reorient himself.

 Sitting up, properly, good! Parents staring with weird, half horrified expressions: bad. Very, very bad. 

“I’m okay, I just fell.” Danny spoke, he could speak properly again. So why? “Sorry for scaring you guys?” He tried again, trying to ignore the first thought across his mind.

 They kept staring. Maddie seemed to be recovering, shoulders starting to relax, but she seemed to be reaching for her belt.

 He didn’t sound right. No, that wasn’t quite right, he just sounded wrong for Danny  Fenton. Who he should be right now, he hadn’t been able to talk, let alone go ghost. This probably looked really, really bad. How had he switched, anyway?

Mom was reaching for a gun, wasn’t she? Crud. Now he regretted talking at all, how was he going to explain why Danny Phantom was treating two ghost hunters like his parents? Or how he managed to look like their kid. Maybe he could change back and convince them they were seeing things?

Yeah no, that was way too dumb.

 “Wait.” Jack rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to stop pulling the weapon. He wasn’t looking at the ghost at all, just her. Maddie remained stiff, not able to ignore the glowing kid on her floor.

 Okay...dad was usually the gung ho one. Maybe he could get away with this? Danny tried to get a better grip on the situation. Felt a new pain, sharp and cold in his throat. Deep green scars clashed against his white gloves and ran all across his jumpsuit,  glow intensifying as the panic choked him into silence. Fresh and angry like back- back before he managed to stumble out of the portal when he died when the accident happened.

With his human arms just as scared below them, still against the tile. The damage looked old, half scabbed over with only a dull glow deep in the death marks wounds. His arms attached to the rest of his body- that he was half out of. 

 Why? How was his body still and silent while he was sitting and looking at it. He’s cold. His body is cold. It isn’t  breathing  there isn’t some other facet of his personality sitting behind the dull blue eyes. This isn’t how it works! If he splits, it’s just temporary, he can fix it but his other half- corpse is wrong.

The pulling and clinging at his legs doesn’t feel like slime anymore. Rotting flesh that wants to drag him back, smother him in a cloying warmth that will only remind him why it burned, how it hurt. He had to move, he couldn’t stay half like this, it would get better once it wasn’t like this.

It didn’t want to let go as he tried to pull away, ectoplasm getting snagged on every nerve and muscle fiber, each pause a reminder of the shock and pain of his end that day.

He knew he screamed when he pulled free and slammed into the wall, furious green scars still marring his jumpsuit where there should be none.

 What would Mom and Dad think?

 No no no no no. He spotted movement from them and acted. He couldn’t let his mom break his body more, or look at it too closely. Dad couldn’t see what happened! This was fine, he could fix this!

 He grabbed his corpse and fled through the wall.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Part two to boys and butter? (I know I already requested something but still)

Ok here goes! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 here. (based off a prompt by @nuttynutcycle)

*special thanks to @im-a-wonderling for the beta read, edits, and fantastic ideas!!* 

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Villain was washing her hair, for the fourth time, cursing stupid heroes for forcing her to get her hair wet. In water. For the fourth time that day.

A loud pounding interrupted her ranting and her shampooing.

Who would dare?

“Uh Villain?”

She lifted her head out of the sink and turned off the water.

“What!?!”

“Um well, Sidekick is here.”

“And?”

“Well, he uh, he says he wants to talk?”

She growled and reached for a towel.

Henchman leapt back as she wrenched open the door, spraying water droplets in every direction. “So you just let him in?”

How did he even know where her lair was?

“No!! He’s standing outside the front door.”

Might as well post a billboard saying ‘Villain lives here!’

“Get him inside, now!”

“Where—?”

“I don’t care! The entryway! Just get him off the street!”

Henchman scrambled away as Villain took the towel to her hair before pulling up the hood of her jacket.

She should probably have her people send Sidekick away, vulnerable as she was at the moment, but this didn’t feel like a trap. At least not the dangerous kind. More of the buttery kind.

She stomped through the upstairs, her henchmen darting out of her way. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Her mask was still upstairs covered in nasty butter, and even if Sidekick knew where she lived, she didn’t need him seeing her face as well.

“Hit the lights!” she shouted.

Every single light in the house went out. At least her people were efficient.

She tugged her hood down further as she rounded the corner to the entryway, clinging to the shadows.

Sidekick stood framed in the light shining through the window on the front door, his hands raised unthreateningly to the sides.

“Why didn’t you just turn off the lights with your powers?” It was a curious question rather than a judgmental one, and so quiet she wondered if he’d meant to say it out loud.

Before she could answer, he shook his head. “Right sorry!” He muttered. “Not my business. That’s not why I came...” It was clear now he was in fact talking to himself, and hadn’t yet noticed her come in. His hand darted up to his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose, before the cocking of her henchmen’s guns sent his hand back away from his body. “Sorry! Sorry! Nervous habit!”

Villain couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her lips.

“Have you ever dropped a blow dryer in water?”

He jerked around, scanning the shadows until he spotted her. “I-um-no? But that sounds rather dangerous.... electrical currents in water can lead to...”

“Exactly.”

His face was half in shadow, but the adorable confusion was easy to see.

“I was washing my hair.”

His face, or what she could see of it, flushed red.

“I’m sorry-I didn’t... I don’t...”

Oh this was too fun.

But she decided to put him out of his misery.

“In the sink. My hair is wet...Wet hair, electrical current...” she waved her hands in an explosive gesture and didn’t have to wait long for him to piece it together. It was a rather unfortunate twist of her powers that she could essentially summon lightning, but if she was the slightest bit wet, all that energy went into her rather than her intended target.

“So you can’t use your powers when you’re wet?”

Oh no.

She’d been so distracted by his utterly innocent flustering that she hadn’t thought about the ramifications of telling a member of Hero Agency her biggest weakness.

Should she just kill him now?

But he was so cute...

Sidekick had noticed her silence. He groaned. “Listen. This isn’t why I’m here. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Then why are you here?”

He reached for his pocket, but froze as her henchmen advanced.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just need to get something out of my pocket.” He looked at her, or rather, in her direction, since she was still obscured by the darkness.

Villain dipped her head. “It’s alright. Just move very slowly.”

He took her words to heart, moving with painstaking slowness as he pulled a small paper from his front pocket. He gingerly unfolded it before extending it out to her.

“Other Henchman?”

Other Henchman stepped forward, gun aimed at Sidekick’s chest, and took the paper. He backed up until he was out of arms reach, then turned and delivered her the paper. She squinted at the writing, fingered the thick paper. It wasn’t a note, it was a $100 bill.

“What is this?”

“It’s $100.”

“I know that.” He flinched at the venom in her voice, and she mentally reminded herself to be gentle.

“Why are you handing me money, Sidekick?”

“It’s a bribe.”

“A what?”

“Or a payment. I mean however you want to look at it. And I can’t explain, so please don’t ask me any questions, but I will give you $100 if you let me borrow your mask for an hour.”

Hero blinked, several times, thinking back on the strange events of the day. First the heroes... now Sidekick.

“Are you making a game of me?” The quiet question hung in the air for the briefest moment before—

“NO!!” The outburst from the timid Sidekick made her jump.

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, but this time her people didn’t bother to protest his sudden movement. They could tell, as she could, that he wasn’t a threat.

“I’m not trying to mock you, but I can’t explain right now. But... please?”

Villain couldn’t doubt his sincerity.

“So you’re wanting to… what? Rent my mask for an hour?”

“Yes.” He squeaked out.

“And what’s to guarantee you’ll bring it back?”

He paused. “I give you my word.”

Villain laughed. “You’ll have to forgive me for doubting the word of a sworn enemy.”

Sidekick shifted from foot to foot.

“Well, what else do you have?” Sidekick’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you willing to offer as collateral?”

“I--” He reached into his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. Nothing she was interested in.

“What’s that around your neck?”

Sidekick’s hand flew to the chain peeking out of the collar of his shirt. “Nothing!” he replied too quickly.

“Hmmmm. Well I think I’ve made my decision. You can leave whatever it is that’s hanging around your neck here with me until you return my mask, or you can leave now, before I decide to keep you here, indefinitely.” She wasn’t actually into the whole kidnapping scene, but she couldn’t resist teasing him.

“I..It’s… you wouldn’t want it.”

“Oh?”

He pulled the chain out of his shirt, revealing a small blue shell. She knew he had some sort of water affinity, but had avoided him. The whole ‘get wet and your powers backfire thing’ really stole the appeal of being close enough to see his powers in action.

Villain raised her eyebrows. “Explain.”

“Well, I have water powers.”

“And? Hurry up, little hero. Before my offer expires.”

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Igetmypowersfromtheshell.”

It took her a moment to process his jumbled words, then Villain blinked. Twice.

“I- well..” She’d been expecting some sentimental ‘I remember the day I found this shell’ drivel, but… his powers came from a shell? The look on his face told her he wasn’t lying. She didn’t want to be anywhere near some mystical shell-thing, but she’d already made her offer.

“The shell as collateral for my mask. Take it or leave it.” She waved the $100 bill. “Oh and either way, I’m keeping this.”

Sidekick closed his eyes and nodded once.

“Henchman,” she signaled him to draw closer. He listened to her instructions before darting up the stairs.

When he came back down, he held out his hand, but she waved him off, pointing at Sidekick.

Sidekick stiffened at Henchman’s approach, but relaxed when he saw the object Henchman held pinched between two fingers. He reluctantly pulled the chain over his head and dropped it into Henchman’s open palm before taking the mask Henchman now extended to him.

“Careful it’s-"

“What in the world?”

Villain covered her eyes. She really should have cleaned her mask first.

“Don’t ask.”

Sidekick nodded. “Ok then. I guess I’ll just be going?”

He took a hesitant step back, and when no one stopped him, he gradually turned and grasped the handle of the door.

“Sidekick?”

He froze.

“60 minutes. Starting... now.”

He vanished out the door.

Villain sniffed her hair and gagged. Then she went back upstairs to wash it for the fifth time. She should have been plotting revenge against Other Hero, but instead she was puzzling over a endearingly curious curly-headed, glasses-wearing sidekick and the tiny blue shell that now hung around her neck.

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 5

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here and chapter 4 here

Read this fic on AO3

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Elain Beautiful!

Elain’s message made Azriel blush. He even blushed the next day whenever he thought about it.

He had never been called “beautiful” before. Handsome? Yes. Sexy and hot? A few times

But beautiful? Never

He couldn’t stop thinking about the message. Nor could he stop thinking about the fact that she lived in Velaris. Had they ever passed each other on the street? Had he stood behind her in the line at the grocery store?

Had they breathed the same air without knowing it?

Azriel couldn’t help but think back to Rhys and Feyre’s wedding. She had been there, hadn’t she? That same day when he was sitting with Rhys in a suite before the ceremony, she had delivered flowers downstairs. If he had just left the room before the ceremony, he might have met her that day. He was certain that they hadn’t met, even though Nesta was certain that they must have at least seen each other. He knew in his heart that he could never have forgotten her face if he had seen it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her now, and he had only seen her on his screen.

Azriel imagined that she must be even more beautiful in real life.

And now, he could actually find out if that was the case.

He told himself that he didn’t change his usual morning route because he wanted to see her. He told himself that he was tired of running in the park and that a run along the river Sidra would be a nice change of pace. He told himself that he didn’t even think about the fact that Elain’s flower shop was located on River Street, looking out over the Sidra.

He told himself all these things, but deep down, he knew that he was lying. It felt stupid and idiotic to lie to yourself, but it made him feel a bit better. It made him feel a little less like a creep as he ran along the river.

It was a nice day out. You could tell that summer was turning into fall because of the crisp morning air and the changing colors of the leaves. Velaris was probably the most beautiful during fall, at least according to Azriel. He had always loved fall and always hated summer. He didn’t like the heat. His friend, Cassian, hated summer too because of his allergies. That’s why he and Nesta had opted for a fall wedding.

The city was quiet this early in the morning. Azriel enjoyed the quiet; he always had. He never worked out with music and he couldn’t understand why people wanted to blast stressful tunes in their ears while working out. For Azriel, running was a form of meditation. He was completely alone with his thought and he often felt as if he had his best ideas during his morning runs. Music would have bothered him.

He had mapped out a route along the Sidra that was approximately 5 kilometers long (he always ran 5 km in the morning). It just so happened that Elain’s store could be seen from this route. What a coincidence, he thought, as it came into view.

In between the lies he had told himself, he had also told himself that she would probably not be there this early. He just wanted to see the place where she worked, but she would most likely not even be there. It was less creepy if she wasn’t there, which is why he hadn’t walked by in the middle of the day. He didn’t want her to think that he was a stalker. He remembered what Nesta had said about her taste in men, and he was pretty sure that she would never look at him again if she thought that he was stalking her.

As he was nearing her shop, he felt his palms sweat and his heart race. Totally normal reactions to a workout, he told himself. And all of a sudden, he found himself across the street from her little shop. It was situated between a small café and a bookshop. The sign above the door was light pink, and swirly green letters read “WALLFLOWER”. That was an interesting name for a flower shop, Azriel thought. Then, he noticed that the lights were on and the door was slightly ajar. Azriel held his breath as he slowed his pace and looked through the window. At first, there was no sign of anyone in there. Then, a door in the back opened, and there she was. She had her hair down today, and she was wearing a dark blue dress over a white t-shirt. Her face was covered by the big bunch of flowers she was carrying. Azriel knew nothing about flowers, but he knew he hated these white and pink things for covering her face. Azriel pulled up his hood, hoping that she wouldn’t see him as he lingered on the other side of the street, hoping for just one look.

She bent over and put the flowers down just by the door. Her hair fell in front of her face and…

That’s when Azriel’s phone rang.

And for once in his life, the sound was on. He had no idea when he had un-muted it, but he could see Elain shift. Shit, she had heard his phone. The door was slightly open and there was no traffic right now which obviously meant that anyone within a 100-meter radius could hear it. And it did not help that someone, probably Cassian, had changed his ringtone to fucking Barbie Girl by Aqua.

Azriel quickly turned away from the shop and started running again. He didn’t even see where he was going as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. “Fuck,” he let out as the female voice in his pocket sang about how fantastic it was to be plastic.

“What?” he answered, ready to rip apart the person that had called him.

“What has your knickers in a twist?” Rhys asked in a fake British accent.

“I’m running.”

“Yeah, I know. You always run at this time of the day. Creature of habit and all that.” Rhys sounded chipper. Who the fuck was this happy in the morning?

“What do you want? Didn’t you say that the meeting started at nine today?”

“Yes, Azriel. The meeting starts at nine, but I need you and Cassian to come in earlier. Like now. Where are you?”

“I’m by the Sidra, so it’ll probably take me ten minutes to reach the office if I run,” Azriel answered. “Is this urgent, or can I go home and change?”

“Why are you by the Sidra? You always run in the park?”

“Trying to get out of my comfort zone,” Azriel mumbled, hoping that Rhys would just let it go.

“Well, good for you. And yes, it’s urgent. You can shower here and I know that you keep extra clothes in your desk drawer. See you in ten minutes!”

Azriel groaned. He did not want an emergency meeting right now. He wanted to go home and drown in his shower from the sheer mortification he was feeling.

“Oh, Azriel!” Rhys almost shouted before Azriel could hang up. “Bring coffee.”

Azriel snorted. “I didn’t think you were allowed coffee.”

Azriel could hear the smile in his brother’s voice as he said, “just bring the fucking coffee, Az.”

20 minutes later, Azriel walked into the office with three cups of coffee and a few croissants.

“What’s the emergency?” Azriel asked as soon as he walked through the doors to Rhys’ office.

Cassian was already there, and Rhys had the biggest grin on his face. It made Azriel uncomfortable. Why was he grinning at half-past seven in the morning?

Azriel handed one cup each to Rhys and Cassian while taking one for himself. He didn’t take a seat. He just waited for Rhys to tell him why the hell he was here.

Cass took a sip from his cup and made a disgusted face.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked.

“De-caf, vanilla latte with extra foam.”

“Why? You know that I drink my coffee black.”

“Barbie girl,” was all Azriel said, and from the way Cassian’s face lit up, he could tell that it was, indeed, Cassian who had changed his ringtone.

“Oh, yeah,” Cassian grinned. “great song!”

Azriel rolled his eyes.

Rhys leaned against his desk and took a swig from his own cup. Azriel had not made a funny order for him, but he kind of wish he had. The stupid smile seemed to be permanently etched onto his face. Rhys let out a sound that sounded eerily like a moan.

“God, this tastes like heaven,” he sighed. Azriel liked his coffee as much as any other person, and he guessed that it would taste even better if you had gone without any caffeine for months, but this was still weird.

“Better than your wife?” Cass joked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Rhys shot him a death glare. “Don’t you dare speak about the mother of my future child like that!”

Azriel felt his jaw drop. Did he just say what Azriel thought he said?

He didn’t have time to ask before Rhys lit up again. “Feyre’s pregnant!” he basically shouted.

For a beat, Azriel and Cassian stared at him dumbfounded. Then, Cassian jumped from his chair, embracing Rhys.

“Damn! Finally! Congratulations, man,” he said and patted him hard on the back.

Azriel wasn’t much of a hugger, but even he embraced his brother. “Congrats!”

“How did you find out?” Cassian asked.

“Well, it was all very romantic. I made her breakfast this morning, and she looked at me as if I had put rat-poison in her porridge. Then she threw up. Actually, the first sign was definitely that her boobs got bigger, but she told me to shut up every time I mentioned it.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Azriel muttered.

Rhys ignored him. “So she took a test, and there were definitely two little pink lines there.”

His entire face was a big smile now, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile too. He was so happy for Rhys and Feyre. They were going to be great parents.

“So, I wanted to tell you that you’re going to be uncles,” he announced.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other. If Azriel wasn’t mistaken, he could see Cassian tear up.

“I’ll be the fun uncle,” Cass exclaimed as if anyone would ever question that.

Azriel took a seat next to Cassian as they continued talking for a while. Az couldn’t help but notice that Rhys seemed almost equally happy about the fact that he was now allowed to eat meat and drink coffee again.

“So, Rhys, just to be clear. You only called us in here this early to tell us that you were going to be a father? That couldn’t wait?”

“Obviously, it couldn’t wait,” Rhys answered matter of factly. “But no, that wasn’t the only reason. There’s a problem with the online subscriptions that I need you to look at.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I hired you.”

Azriel spent the entire morning sorting out the problem. When he was finally done, it was time for lunch. Since he hadn’t been able to go home and bring the lunch he had prepared, he had to venture out for food. He decided to go to one of his favorite places in town; a small Vietnamese place within walking distance to the office. He ordered Phở and decided to eat his lunch there since he was a bit tired of staring into his computer screen. He took a seat in the corner next to the windows looking out over the street and started a podcast on his phone as he dug into his noodle soup. It was delicious, as always, and he didn’t really pay attention to anything but the food and the podcast. This is why he didn’t notice that someone had sat down at his table until a female voice started speaking to him. He had just shoved some noodles into his mouth as he looked up to see who was talking to him, and his heart almost stopped.

It was her. Flower Girl ASMR. Elain.

Azriel had noodles hanging out of his mouth and his brain couldn’t decide if he should just push all of it into his mouth, or take a bite and let the rest fall into his bowl, so he just sat there; looking and feeling like a fool.

“Azriel,” Elain greeted him when his eyes met hers. His brain couldn’t comprehend that she was here, at one of his favorite restaurants, while he was listening to a true-crime podcast. Azriel quickly swallowed what was in his mouth and removed his headphones. He could feel himself blush.

“Elain,” he breathed, feeling warm and sweaty all of a sudden. “What are you doing here?”

She laughed. She had a lovely laugh. “Nice to see you too. Is it good?”

“What?”

“The food,” she gestured to the bowl, “is it good?”

“Yes, very.” Azriel didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected to see her here. He had actually not expected to ever hear from her again if she had seen him outside of her store this morning.

Elain looked around. “This place is really cute. I’ve never been here before, but my employees recommended it.”

That explained why she was there.

“Yeah, it’s the best Vietnamese food in town.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You seemed to really enjoy it.” She smiled at him, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that she had seen him eat. He had no idea what he looked like when he ate, but he felt very self-conscious all of a sudden.

“So, you live in Velaris?” Azriel asked after a short stretch of silence.

She nodded. “Mhm. I moved here a few years ago and opened my shop. Speaking of, did I see you this morning?” She was eyeing him suspiciously.

Azriel felt himself go completely still. Fuck. She had seen him. His life was over. Mentally, he started to prepare to move away from Velaris. Maybe he should just move to Australia? Or maybe Siberia? Anywhere far, far away.

He felt himself shake his head in answer, hoping that she believed him.

She raised an eyebrow “Really?”

She looked down at her lap and he could hear her tap on her phone, and then Azriel’s phone, which was conveniently sitting on the table, was ringing.

Fucking Barbie Girl.

He had forgotten to put it on silent again. He was going to murder Cassian.

The screen lit up with her name, and he knew he was busted.

He expected her to tell him to never contact her again. He expected her to kick him under the table and call him a creep. And god, did he deserve it. But, to his surprise, she laughed.

“Interesting music choice. I wouldn’t have pegged as a 90’s euro-pop lover.”

“I’m not,” he muttered under his breath. “This is my friend’s idea of humor. I am going to kill him as soon as I get back to the office.”

“Please don’t. You’re too pretty to go to jail,” Elain joked, and Azriel felt himself blush - again.

He took a deep breath and decided to try to explain the situation. “About this morning... I was just doing my morning workout. I promise I was not stalking you.”

“I didn’t think you were stalking me. I mean, did you even know I lived in Velaris?”

Azriel was just about to answer when Elain’s name was called. She got up and picked up her food from the girl behind the register. She walked back to his table and held up the brown paper bag, “Well, I have to go. My employees need fuel.”

“It was really nice meeting you in real life, Elain. Sorry if I was weird,” Azriel apologized.

“Don’t apologize. I get it. I hate when people interrupt me when I eat. But when I saw you, I just felt like I had to say hi.”

Azriel smiled at her. “It was a welcome interruption. Enjoy your lunch!”

With a quick goodbye, she turned around and started to walk to the door. Azriel cursed himself. Why was he such a weirdo? Couldn’t he have been cool and mysterious? Why did he have to be some kind of awkward noodle-eating monster?

He was just about to drown himself in the remaining food in front of him when he saw Elain turn around and head for his table again.

“Would you like to do this again?” she asked, the question coming out quickly.

Azriel stared at her. “Do what?”

“See each other in real life.”

“Yes,” Azriel blurted out. “I would really like that.”

She gave him the sweetest smile and he felt like he was looking at the sun.

“Great! Are you free this Friday?”

Azriel didn’t tell her that he would make sure to be free any night she wanted to spend time with him.

Instead, he just said, “Yes, I’m free.”

“Good. I’ll text you.”

And with that, Elain exited the restaurant. Azriel was staring at his bowl of cold noodles, not feeling very hungry anymore. She had asked him out.

Elain, the prettiest girl alive, had asked him out.

If he had been a comic book character, he was certain that there would be small, pink hearts flying around his head.

She texted him later that night.

Elain It was lovely running into you today :) But damn that ringtone of yours! I’ve been singing Barbie Girl all day, haha!

Azriel Thank you for interrupting my lunch! Don’t tell anyone this, but I haven’t been able to get that stupid song out of my head either. But don’t worry, I was able to get my hands on my friend’s phone this afternoon and return the favor.

Elain Oooh! Which song did you pick?

Azriel Jizz in my pants by the Lonely Island.

Elain You’re evil! I love it!

Azriel So, for Friday. Would you be up for drinks?

Azriel wanted to suggest dinner, but drinks felt safer. If she thought that he was dull or weird, it would be easier for her to leave.

Elain Yes! That would be great. There is this new place that I’ve been dying to go to. It’s called Rita’s.

Azriel Rita’s it is! Shall we say at 8?

Elain It's a date! I’m really looking forward to it :)

Azriel Me too!

Azriel felt giddy. He felt like a teenager that had just been asked out by his crush. Or at least, he thought that this was the same feeling. He hadn’t really been asked out in High School. Elain had probably been popular, but he had been the emo-guy in the corner, listening to music nobody had ever heard.

However, the more he thought about Friday, the more nervous he became. What if he couldn’t find something interesting to talk about? What if she found him boring?

And worst of all; what the hell should he wear?

[ivarisms]

A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Title: A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Summary: You and your work colleague have travelled to Norway to to write a piece for an online article about the history of Vikings, and your travels have led you to a town where the locals talk about an abandoned castle deep in the mountains where Ivar the Boneless still lives as a thousand-year-old vampire. You don’t believe such nonsense, but are curious to see what artifacts this mysterious castle holds within its walls.

Paring: Vampire!Ivar x Female OC

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, non-con aspects, NSFW for sexual content.

                         “Baby, you’re cruel to me but you see I love it when you make me bleed. I want a scar that looks just like you, till then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool. ” ---- Vampire Smile, Kyla La Grange

                                               CHAPTER ONE

The treacherous winding path that spiralled up into the deepest and most isolated parts of the mountains was endless, or so it seemed after hours of non-stop walking. You were exhausted, and to make things worse the first droplets of snow began to trickle down from the sky above. “You said we would reach this castle an hour ago, and yet I still see no sign of it.”

“Patience, sweet cheeks.” Your work partner and terrible tour-guide Lawrence teased, a wrinkled map in his gloved hands as he turned to grin at you. “Always complaining, it’s not always about the destination but about the journey too. I find hiking in these mountains therapeutic…”

You rolled your eyes at that one, there was nothing therapeutic about this and you really wished you would have said no to this adventure. You weren’t even convinced that there was a castle, especially one that harboured a thousand-year-old vampire inside. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You pressed on, frowning at the feel of wet inside your ‘waterproof’ boots. Great, you thought. All I need when hiking up a goddamn mountain. “I’m starting to think the locals swindled us here, I bet they’re all down in their local pub laughing about how stupid the latest tourists are in falling for this ridiculous ghost story.”

“It’s not a ghost story, it’s a vampire story – like Dracula.” Lawrence countered, a few steps ahead of you on the trail that became much steeper. “And yeah, it’s probably a crock of shit but hey, we’ll have the castle to ourselves and you know what that means.” Turning to waggle his brow at you, he winked and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, shelter – and hopefully some firewood.” You grumbled, not even entertaining his attempts at flirting with you. He had tried time and time again to get into your pants, but just couldn’t get the hint.

“I don’t think there’s many trees up this high for firewood, but you never know… might be able to find a couple of ‘em and make a stake out of a branch as a weapon.” He joked. “They said this Ivar is terrifying, I hope I get to kill him. Imagine that on the front of the newspaper, I can see it now. ‘Handsome muscly man kills a thousand-year-old vampire Viking with ease… or Viking vampire’ which one sounds better?”

“None of them.” You smirked. “If he’s a vampire and a Viking, you really think you stand a chance?”

“Hey, I got some moves – I can show you them if you like.” He teased.

“No thanks…”

Walking up the steepest part of the isolated trail, you winced and tugged at the hood of your thick yellow coat as harsh icy winds hurtled towards you. They were powerful, nearly knocking you from your feet as you struggled to maintain your balance.

“There it is.” Lawrence pointed in front of him, and you stumbled forward a few steps to join him to see what he was looking at.

“Oh, wow.” You whispered, seeing for the first time the huge black winding castle in the near distance. It was hidden between two mountain peaks, so no wonder it took so long to find. The locals weren’t lying about one thing, but there was no way in hell a vampire lived within its walls. “The snow is getting heavier, let’s go as quick as we can.”

“Yes, lady boss.” Lawrence scoffed, his tone laced with sarcasm as he led the way.

Half an hour of struggling through near enough knee-deep snow led you and your colleague to the castle grounds. The great heaving stone structure was more than impressive to gaze up at, though the many windows that were draped in darkness made you feel uneasy. Its black towers and stone battlements were still very much intact, withstanding the test of time and the test of such harsh elements in the isolated area of Norway. It had clearly been abandoned centuries before now, yet still radiated a millennium of history you would never get to experience. You wondered what it would have been like back then, when Vikings were in their prime of greatness. Terrifying, you assumed.

Ivar the Boneless was known especially to be cruel and inhumane, the history books wrote him to be a tyrant and monster who killed all that apposed him. It was that wicked reputation that kept his memory alive a thousand years later, proven by how scared the local men and women were to even mention his name. You were intelligent enough to know that vampires didn’t exist, but if by chance they did, then you decided that Ivar would be the worst kind of vampire to bump into.

“Wanna go inside?” Lawrence broke through your train of thought and you looked at him as he pulled free his camera from the pocket of his padded blue jacket.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, deciding it was for the best to push fairy-tales aside and explore further.

Following Lawrence through the first set of steel gates, you were now in the courtyard. This area would have been used to make speeches to the people, used as entertainment and no doubt used for training how to fight. You could almost picture the Vikings now, swinging swords and axes at each other without a care in the world. Reaching into your own pocket to pull free your phone, you swiped at the screen.

No signal, low battery. Fantastic.

Your phone wouldn’t have enough power to last the night, but you had enough to snap a few pictures.

“I’m gonna explore the barracks, are you coming with or doing your own thing?” Lawrence asked.

“I’m…” You breathed, your eyes drawn towards the main doors that would no doubt lead into the very heart of the castle. “I’m going inside, I want to get a few photos before this thing dies on me.”

“Alright, I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Please take your time, you thought. “Okay.”

And with that you both went your separate ways.

 Pushing on the great wooden door that was stiff as a board, you clinched your jaw and rammed your weight into your shoulder with a grunt to try and budge it. One, two, three attempts before the frozen wood gave way. Shoving it open with a deep squeal that echoed loudly throughout the innards of the castle, you peered inside curiously. An icy breeze from within hit your face, and as you swept your gaze around the darkness you realised you were staring down into a great long hall that seemed to travel endlessly into the abyss.

Shrugging your backpack from your shoulders, you delved your hand inside and fiddled around until you grabbed hold of the flashlight you had brought along with you. Flicking the switch, a faint yellow glow lit the way as you moved forward. The old wooden floors creaked beneath the weight of your snow laden boots as you took your first few steps inside, allowing the heavy door to swing back shut with a loud thud. Wincing at the sound, you felt your heart thump nervously and felt a sudden pang of regret wash over you, almost as if you felt like you were trespassing. You can still leave.

“Stop overthinking.” You chastised yourself, knowing you were being irrational now. Ghosts did not exist and neither did vampires, it was all in your head.

Treading carefully, you made your way down the hall that had great long wooden tables lining each side with wax candles sat atop them, the table tops themselves had markings engraved within them and as you dragged your fingers along the symbols, you decided they were probably Old Norse. A language that had been dead for many years. Lifting your had, you rubbed at the thick layer of dust that had settled upon your fingertips. This place definitely hadn’t been touched in a long time, and for a moment you wondered if you and Lawrence were the first tourists to investigate in years. It seemed like it.

Unlocking your phone, you decided to take a few pictures of the beautiful furniture for your records before moving on. This would make for a good article on your blog – frozen in time, a look inside the world of Vikings. You wondered if you could steal something small and tuck it into your bag as a souvenir of sorts. Looking ahead, you noticed a stone fireplace in the centre at the back of the hall and as you strolled over towards it with your phone in hand to take another picture, something else caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning, you audibly gasped.

Two beautiful wooden thrones sat untouched at the furthest point of the great hall, sat atop a wooden platform. They looked over the entire hall, above the rest of the tables and you knew then that this was once where the King and Queen probably dined with their people.

“Wow.” You whispered, approaching the rare find. The floorboards creaked with each slow step and as you got closer, your eyes widened and twinkled in the dark as you absorbed the intricate detail of both beautiful chairs.

You walked up onto the platform and reached out to touch the main throne, the one you could only assume belonged to a line of great Kings starting with Ragnar Lothbrok. Dragging your fingers along the twisted branches and steel that bound them together, you smiled and took the opportunity to sit in the throne.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but you definitely felt like royalty as you leaned back and closed your eyes. Just for a moment you pretended it was a different time, that you were a Queen of a Viking army. Breathing in a slow breath, you opened your eyes again and gazed down the hallway you had walked up.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness as the flashlight rested in your lap, and as you blinked you were certain there was a shape of a figure standing by the main door you had entered through. Lawrence?

“You took your time, come see what I’ve found.” You called out, crossing one leg over the other casually with a coy smile. “I can’t be sure, but I think this throne once belonged to Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons. It’s beautiful…” You drummed your fingers against the arm rest.

No response. The silence was deafening, and you felt a deep fluttering within your belly as you snatched your flashlight and shone it down where the figure stood. But the light didn’t reach that far, and so you leaped from the throne anxiously.

“Lawrence?” You called nervously this time, your eyes narrowing as you kept them on the figure who stood in the shadows, unmoving. “This is not funny; I’m not playing your stupid games idiot.”

Once again there was nothing and you panicked, the stories that had been told to you from the locals playing in the forefront of your mind.

‘Ivar the Boneless died in battle, yes – but he was revived and cursed with immortality. The stories say his brother Hvitserk accompanied him back to the castle where he lives till this very day, surviving on the blood of those who dare enter his lair.’

‘Hvitserk too?’

‘Perhaps, though there have been no witnesses to survive that could tell us what they have seen. All we know is that those who travel up the mountains don’t travel back down, so in all probability they have been killed.’

“Ivar?” You breathed, the flashlight in your hand trembling.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The voice echoed through the hall and your breath caught in your throat, fear bleeding into every fibre of your being as you jumped from the throne platform and sprinted towards a side-door that led into the bowels of the castle. The last thing you wanted was to travel deeper inside, but you had no other choice. Gasping for breaths in the darkness, you tried to hold the flashlight steady and peered down at your phone in the other hand.

No signal.

1% battery life.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You hissed, not having a clue what door led to which room or if there was any other exit that you could escape from. You just ran forward with no sense of direction, and eventually came face to face with a staircase. You couldn’t go back now, what if he was right behind you?

The thought alone made you squeal as you scrambled up the stone steps, tripping over your boot at one point and dropping your useless phone that tumbled all the way back down to the bottom. You wouldn’t be going back for it now. Reaching the upper floors of the bitterly cold castle, your flickering flashlight was threatening to give up on you as you desperately searched for a hiding spot. Bolting to the end of the corridor, you ran into one of the rooms and as quietly as you could, closed the door behind you.

Backing up until your thighs hit the wooden frame of a bed in the centre of the room, you felt tears well in your eyes. You were terrified.

“Y/N, it was a joke!” Lawrence shouted out from outside in the corridor. “It’s me, I was only teasing.”

Anger. You saw red and felt humiliated as your colleague shoved the bedroom door open and grinned back at you, holding his camera in your face and your phone in his other hand. You couldn’t believe it.

“HA!” He laughed loudly when he saw the look on your face, pointing at you as he filmed your reaction. “You ran like a shot, Jesus…”

“Get out.” You growled, storming forward to shove his chest. “It’s not fucking funny, stop filming me.”

“Hey, c’mon – it’s hilarious!” He laughed. “Ivar?” Mocking the way you had called out the Viking’s name, he shook his head and bent forward to slap his knee with amusement. “I thought you didn’t believe in vampires!”

“I said get out!” Slapping the camera from his hands, you scowled up at him as it tumbled and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, what the fuck!” He glared back at you and snatched the front of your jacket, clinching his jaw as if he was debating on whether to hit you or not. But he decided against it, shoving you instead and watching you fall to the bed as he leaned down to pick up his prized possession. “It was a damn joke, get over yourself.”

“No, you’re trying to use me for your stupid videos and it’s not happening. Whatever footage you’ve got of me on there, delete it.” You warned him.

“Hell no, this is going up on my blog first thing when we get back to town. You’ll see how funny it is when you’ve calmed down. Pretty girl gets spooked by Ivar the Boneless, idiots on the internet eat that shit up.”

That was enough. Lunging forward, you snatched the camera from his grasp and turned around, throwing it as hard as you could against the stone wall opposite the bed. You watched as it smashed, bits of plastic bursting out into shards across the floor and instant regret flooded you.

Not about smashing it, because he deserved that to happen – but because you knew the fact he wouldn’t get views online from his snot-nosed followers would infuriate him.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the halls as he grabbed the back of your hood and yanked you back towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, that’s my life’s work you dumb bitch!”

Wincing as he flung you against the wall by the door, you kicked your boot at his shin and threw a punch that connected with his shoulder.

“Let me go!” You growled, struggling against him as he swung his arm back and swung it forward again, slapping you against the face. A sharp sting radiated through your cheek, and you closed your eyes and lifted your hands to defend yourself from the assault you thought was about to come your way.

But nothing happened.

Instead, you heard gargling.

Snapping your eyes open again, you felt your entire body weaken in terror as Lawrence stood in front of you grasping at his throat. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose as he stumbled back, staring back at you with fear and desperation. You were speechless, frozen stiff in place as he collapsed to his knees and bled out at your feet. Behind him had been standing a tall, broad man with the bluest eyes you think you had ever seen. His hand was coated in blood, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as he gazed back at you in the dark.

“I heard a struggle; it seems you needed some help from this boy.” He mumbled in a deep Nordic accent and stepped over Lawrence’s dying body, towering over you in the confined space. “Are you hurt?”

You stood perfectly still and parted your lips, trying to speak but the sounds of Lawrence’s gargled breaths distracted you. Never had you witnessed someone dying before and as much as you hated him, you felt sick and faint.

“You called my name earlier; it woke me from a deep sleep…” He continued, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk as he reached his clean hand up to stroke your reddened cheek that would soon bruise from the slap.

A breath hitched in your throat at how cold he was, the gentle stroke of his fingers sending a shiver to ripple up the length of your spine.

“You… you are Ivar the Boneless.” You whispered fearfully, glancing down to the floor to see blood pooling around your boots.

“Yes.” He affirmed. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Mm, and what are you and this…” He peered down at the body that had stopped struggling and sighed. “…moron doing creeping around my home, huh?”

“I’m sorry, we came here to see…”

“Go on.” Ivar pressed you impatiently.

“To see if you were real, to see if this place really existed.” You told him. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” You took a step forward and slid past him, your body grazing against his as you tried to head for the door but he grabbed your hand.

“Ah, ah.” He tutted, shaking his head of dark braids. “That is not how it works, you see – as soon as you stepped through that door you became mine.”

You felt your belly flutter and shrank into yourself as he took a step in towards you again, leaning forward to breathe in your hair.

“Yours?” You whispered in confusion.

“Yes, mine.” He told you. “Everything in this castle is my property, that now includes you and this sack of shit on my floor.” Pointing to Lawrence’s body, Ivar sucked in a breath. “Unfortunately, my anger got the best of me when it came to him, I should have kept him alive for his blood. I haven’t fed in a long time.”

He looked you over when he said that, his blue eyes darkening with a hunger that made you want to run. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to.” He explained and ran his hands up over your shoulders, pulling you against him and holding you tight. “But I am hungry, and your blood sings to me my sweet girl. This won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

“No, no!” You gasped, your struggling useless as he dragged his soft lips down the column of your neck. Licking his tongue out against the beating vein that called to him, a deep growl rose from his throat and he sank his teeth into you with a savage bite that made you scream. “Ivar, please!”

Your legs gave way but it didn’t matter, he was unnaturally strong – clutching you to him like a bear would with its prey. Warmth spilled down your collarbone and you whimpered as he drank you, low groans escaping him. Digging your fingernails into his black armour, your eyes rolled as you became weaker in his arms.

Thump. Thump.

Thump…… Thump.

Thump.

Your heartbeat slowed and you huffed out a weak breath when he suddenly pulled his head back, snarling out an animalistic growl. His white teeth and long fangs were coated in blood, a trickle of it spilling down his chiselled chin as you sank against his chest.

“Fuck.” He groaned, eyes almost translucent they were that blue as he gazed down at your pretty face. “Good girl. Come, let’s get you settled.”

Lifting you up into his arms with ease, Ivar carried you from the room in what seemed like a blur as your eyes rolled shut.

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered.

“Not yet.” He told you, his voice a low seductive growl. “I’m going to drink you and I’m going to fuck you and then I’m going to make you like me and the rest of my family who live in the shadows.”

The rest? You thought, slipping into unconsciousness as Ivar the Vampire stole you away deep into the confines of his castle.

 Starting awake, you sat up in the darkness and reached your hands out to feel soft silk sheets surrounding you. Looking around and down at yourself, you frowned as you noticed your boots, winter trousers and jacket had been removed, replaced with a white cotton dress that barely covered your thighs.

“You are beautiful, y/n.” Ivar mumbled from the shadows, approaching you slowly as you crawled up towards the headboard and away from him.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around the large room that had been lit with candles. “What did you do to me?”

Turning your gaze back onto him, you felt something flutter deep within you as he stood shirtless. Viking tribal tattoos littered his strong defined chest, and as you dragged your eyes lower you noted his defined abs.

“These are my private quarters, the part of the castle you didn’t get the chance to intrude on.” He raised a brow at you, a dangerous glint within his eye. “But now, here you are with me. I fully intend on creating a bond with you, one where you will be my progeny and I your master.”

You felt your stomach leap as he crawled up onto the bed after you, his piercing eyes never leaving your face as he reached out and grabbed your ankles. Yanking you down the mattress, he smirked sadistically as you yelped in surprise.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course, I am.” You whispered, though it was not only fear that you felt as you looked into his eyes but a strange lust. Something was terribly wrong with you to be attracted to this creature but he was so beautiful, almost god-like that it seemed impossible not to.

“It’s good to be afraid, fear makes you more aware of what’s happening.” He leaned forward and kissed your thigh, his cool lips lingering against your skin. “I want you to know that I have waited for you for a long time, and now that I have you, I cannot let you go.”

He spread your thighs then and nuzzled his nose between them, eliciting a gasp from your throat and forcing you to arch your back. Reaching down to twist your fingers into his dark braids, your legs trembled as he breathed in your scent.

“Oh.” You sank your teeth into your bottom lip when he finally pressed a kiss against your mound, a jolt of pleasure radiating through you at the feeling.

You wondered if this was all a dream, a terrifyingly beautiful dream that you soon would wake from. Using his palms to pin you down, Ivar lapped at your tender wet cunt until he had you crying out his name.

You came.

Then you came again. Hard.

Feeling spasms ripple through your entire body, you moaned and spread your legs further as he dragged himself up and over you. Strong arms settled at either side of your head and he dipped his hips between your thighs, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your soaked centre making you buck your hips in response.

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked, grabbing your throat and grazing his thumb against the bite mark he had left in your throat. “Will you give yourself to me completely, my love?”

You felt compelled to say “Yes.”

It was if he was inside your head, making you say and feel these things for him and yet you gladly accepted your fate.

“Good girl.” He growled and thrust inside of you in one hard stroke, splitting you open with a delicious burn that forced a cry from your lips.

You snatched your arms around his broad defined shoulders, digging your nails into his smooth skin as he began an unrelenting rhythm. You moaned and screamed and shuddered beneath him as he fucked you deep, his controlled movements driving you insane with lust.

“Ivar!” You cried as his girth stretched you painfully, the feeling of being unbelievably full of him almost too much. But he held you down, you weren’t getting away from him as he possessed you. “Oh my god!”

He grunted, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest as he took what belonged to him. Pressing kisses against your collarbone and then down to your breasts, your eyes rolled as he sucked one nipple into his mouth and then the other, paying them equal attention.

Your grip on his braids tightened and he licked a trail up your chest, kissing up your throat and chin until his lips found yours. The Viking vampire’s mouth was soft as he licked his tongue into your mouth when you gasped from one particularly deep thrust of his hips, and you could taste a mix of him and you that made you moan into him.

Sliding one calloused hand down to grab your knee, he lifted your leg and forced it up to rest over his shoulder. Arching against him, you whined at the change of position that dug deeper still and brushed against that spongey piece of heaven tucked up inside of you.

“Ah!” You whimpered, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“That’s it, y/n.” He growled lowly, smirking against your mouth as he stared into the depths of your eyes. Knocking his forehead against yours gently, he watched you as he fucked you hard. Skin smacked against skin, the wet sounds of him taking you filling the room and you stiffened.

Hissing, Ivar snatched a handful of your hair and tugged your head to one side as you came around him. Your pussy spasmed, clutching onto his cock tightly, milking him for everything he had and as he was on the verge of his own release he knew it was time.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he sank his fangs into the artery he had torn open earlier and began to drink. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with so much arousal that you weren’t aware of his deadly love bite. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing just a little as he drank your hot blood down in large greedy gulps.

Soon, you realised that something was wrong. You felt it. Whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain now, you pushed at his arms to try and get him to stop but he didn’t plan on it. He drank you deeply, the addicting taste of your life blood filling the void within him.

“Ivar…” You moaned, frowning in discomfort.

He used his free hand to stroke your face gently as if he were reassuring you all would be okay. Blood spilled into the sheets of the mattress and into your hair in a pool and your heart began to stutter, its strong beat fading.

You gasped for a breath and just before you fell into a fatal sleep, Ivar pulled back with a sputtered growl and sank his fangs into his wrist, tearing open his own flesh before pressing the bleeding wound to your lips.

“Drink!” He demanded of you, and with weak gulps you did.

As his cold blood spilled down your throat, he howled out and came inside you in a deep thrust. He grunted and growled at the pleasure of you.

“That’s it.” He hissed, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth as you slurped at him until you fell asleep.

Your head rolled back against the mattress and you were dead to the world, the human version of yourself dying with laboured breaths as Ivar’s blood worked its way through your body keeping you from slipping away completely.

Pulling out of you, he slid an arm under your neck and lifted your frail frame up into his embrace. The sheets were stained red, it looked like a murder scene and he supposed it was for he had killed you and birthed you a new life that soon would come to be.

“There we go, my sweet girl.” He whispered, kissing the side of your face as he stood from the bed and carried you from the bedroom. “No more pain.”

Strolling through the castle, he smirked a bloody smile when he caught sight of his brothers Hvitserk and Ubbe exiting a room down the corridor.

“We heard everything, you know.” Hvitserk eyed the girl in his brother’s arms curiously, a hunger darkening in his features at the sight of you.

“She’s beautiful.” Ubbe murmured.

“I wanted you to hear.” Ivar muttered arrogantly, kissing the corner of your lips as he said so. “She will soon be one of us, I still need to bury her and by tomorrow she will rise.”

“I want one.” Hvitserk grumbled.

“Me too.” Ubbe glanced at his brother and then back to Ivar. “I think we need to venture into town and find more girls, take them back here and turn them.”

“I think that would be good.” Ivar nodded. “Now, I need one of you to bury us.”

“I’ll do it.” Hvitserk volunteered.

“I’ll watch.” Ubbe smirked.

Heading down the staircase with you safely tucked into his arms, Ivar moved with a blur that no ordinary human would be able to see and took you out into the snowy courtyard.

Setting you down on the snow, he dug a grave big enough for two and set you down inside before he turned to glare at his brothers who watched on curiously.

“Okay…” He nodded and lowered himself down to join you, spooning you from behind and tucking his face into your hair.

Hvitserk grabbed a shovel and scooped a large amount of snow and piled it inside the grave. It wasn’t long before the both of you were buried six feet below the earth.

Soon you would rise with your master by your side, forever bonded by blood and death.

tag list:  @punkrocknpearls  @youbloodymadgenius @strayrockette @tgrrose @ISTORKYOU @ivarhoegh @adrille88 @jadelynlace @readsalot73​

[the-slasher-files]

Hii, i saw your requests are open so I guess I could try asking,

Can I ask how would Michael and Jason (and the other slashers if you'd like) react finding out that it's their S/O's birthday. Like they noticed how much food they prepared but s/o didn't mention the occasion because it's not that big of a deal to them but still celebrates it in a way.

Hey, thanks for the request! I love this idea and it was really fun to write.. also added more slashers so I hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS REACT TO THEIR S/O BIRTHDAY

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, BILLY and STU

JASON VOORHEES

How he finds out: when you left your wallet face open with your drivers license out.. boy was curious

Ever since living out at the camp you just kind of forgot about your birthday, it never really mattered, you were happy just as is with what you had

but he plans it for weeks, Jason can’t give you much in the day to day and he just wants to spoil you and give you the best day after years of looking after him

Waking up in the morning you smelt fresh coffee and sweets, which was more than unusual in the cabin

Rolling over to look at the nightstand you found your favorite mug steaming with hot coffee and Jason had put in your preferred creamer, just the way you liked it. Beside the mug was a small little note sloppily marked with drawn hearts and the words “I love you”

Jason melted your heart on a daily biases but this... it made your heart feel like it oozed right out of your ribcage

Propping yourself up to sip the coffee there was a sudden crash in the kitchen making you jump out of bed... was there an intruder?? was Jason in danger??... grabbing the heavy machete that was resting against the nightstand you faltered to the kitchen, hair dishevelled, barefoot, only wearing one of Jason’s ripped oversized shirts

oh... OH.. it’s just Jason cooking??? flour was everywhere, about 10 different bowls were scattered along the counter, the bacon was smoking and the pancakes? were burnt

Turning around owl-eyed, with flour on his mask and tattered clothes, Jason gives his biggest grin and signs “happy birthday!!”

Once you help him with breakfast he will be glued to your side all day.. more than usual.. Jason wants to give you back rubs, hugs and kisses as much as he can

His gift to you is a bracelet his mom had worn, it is the most meaningful gift Jason could ever give, and it’s beautiful

In the evening he will take you to a new trail you had never been on, old camp lanterns to light your way through the woods and into a large meadow. A large blanket covers the damp grass and there is a small basket with all your fav snacks

A picnic to watch the sunset and stargaze... perfect

MICHAEL MYERS

How he finds out: Michael knows everything about you, he had watched you for a solid year before you even knew, but it will take him a long time to get comfortable and trusting with you so it will probably be like the 5th year together before he really does something for you

Now Michael is not affectionate and caring is just not in his nature so your birthday is going to be interesting... to the average human it will seem like it is a shit birthday but knowing Michael the way you do it is the best birthday he can give you

All these years together he had done nothing on your birthday so you expected it to just be another day, but nope

Waking up to the smell of fresh tea or coffee (which ever you prefer) a steaming cup was on the nightstand

Michael was still in bed with you which was unusual but it was even stranger when he was running his large hands all over you.. gently

There will most likely be some morning sex but he is oddly gentle, making your pleasure a priority over his own

Michael will allow you to touch him for however long you want and where you want without protest, but ONLY today so take advantage

Going to the living room you will see a present you had been eyeing for yourself for a while now. It could either be a really nice blanket to clothes to cookware to a laptop. Michael is observant about everything so he will notice the tabs in your phone or that time you walked by a clothing store and almost screamed at how nice the shirt was in the window

of course he stole it and there might be a tiny amount of blood on it but who cares lol

That is honestly about the extent Michael will go with you and that’s more than enough for you

BO SINCLAIR

How he finds out: Bo isn’t exactly a gentleman with a lot of things so he really doesn’t mind just asking how old you are or when your birthday is

Most likely Bo will forget when it is the first 2 years but the 3rd year.. oh baby he’s got it now... with the help of Vincent reminding him

Birthdays have never been big for the Sinclair brothers, especially for Bo, he literally has no idea what to do

One of the only ways Bo knows love is through fast pleasure... aka waking up to him eating you out. Like Michael, he will put your pleasure first today and is going to be gentle with you, so enjoy it

Be careful because he might want to spend your whole birthday in bed if you don’t stop him

Your presents will probably be some lingerie he bought you (which is basically his present) and a night out on the town, going to your favorite restaurant and taking you where ever you want

Even in the truck he will let you pick the music which is honestly a miracle

Bo will try to bite his tongue as much as possible and try to be the best gentlemen he can be until you get home ;)

Going home to Ambrose he takes a different road, up a hill that’s long and twisted, Bo just smiles when you ask where you’re going, man is saying nothing for once and it might freak you out

Getting to the destination, it’s a small walk in the woods until there is a large clearing and a small lake to your right, this is where he used to go swimming as a kid and this is sometimes where Bo will disappear to on bad days

He will lead you to the dock and will lay you down, watching the stars and hearing the splashing of the water mix in with the Louisiana nature... It is pure bliss

Bo cannot help himself and will initiate a heavy make-out session

This is the way of showing you he loves you

VINCENT SINCLAIR  

How he finds out: Baby boy is far more observant than his brother thank god, so he will probably check your drivers license if you left your wallet out

Vincent will honestly plan something for weeks if he can

Usually he is a night owl but today Vincent will get up nice and early cooking your favorite breakfast, well at least trying, honestly he can make fantastic omelets

Waking up you will see a small tray of food at the edge of the bed, an omelet, bacon, a glass of juice and some small bouquet of native Louisiana flowers he had picked

Along with a little note card saying “happy birthday” probably with some little doodles on the sides making it fancy

Waking into the room Vincent will have either your coffee or tea, handing it to you with a gentle kiss

It will probably be just a slow, gentle, quiet morning with wandering hands, little kisses and soft words

Today he will let you do whatever the hell you want and will try desperately to get Bo to leave you alone for the day

If you want to go for a walk he’ll go with, if you want to stay inside all day in your sweats watching movies that’s perfect.. whatever you want

Towards the evening Bo will come home with your favorite foods, since Vincent hates leaving town. Dinner will be candle lit with soft music in the background. Vince will try to dress nice and in something that isn’t covered in wax

After dinner he will take you to the theater, watching the old movies you grew up on, even though half of the time you are only paying attention to the tongue down your throat  

For some reason my head kept saying slow dancing in the rain, so I guess when you are coming home it starts to rain and you guys slow dance in the streetlight

Once home he has 2 boxes for you, lovely wrapped. In one box it is your very own knife with a carved handle of your favorite animal to match his blades. In the next box is something you had been looking at getting for a long time, a new pair of boots he watched you look for online

BILLY AND STU

How they find out: Honestly they’re probably just going to ask you

Stu is probably going to be the more outgoing one and screaming happy birthday to you when you first wake up, Billy would just let you sleep in and drink his coffee beside you, running his hands on you and gently whispering happy birthday to you instead

Stu would make you a big breakfast and even try to make you a cake but something would be so off lol.. he tried

Billy just takes a store bought one from the fridge that he had saved just in case this happened

yes, they want cake for breakfast

Whatever you want to do that day they will make it happen, honestly it’s going to be fun regardless with them

An arcade or bowling or crashing some little kids laser tag party is probably going to be it for your afternoon. Winning silly arcade prizes, stu will get you a stupid whoopie cushion and Billy will probably win a little stuffed bear for you

Driving home Billy will let you play your music and he will just drive around the city, just signing your hearts out and laughing and just making memories, watching the nightlife and city lights

Ending up at the City viewpoint, seeing all the lights in the dark never looked so pretty with your boys, it might even leave Stu speechless

Whenever you are ready to come home a horror movie is defiantly on the list, whatever one you want and they will order pizza

Honestly Stu will probably pass out on the couch from the long hilarious day and Billy will quietly drag you to the bedroom.. really getting to show how much he loves you ;)  

[yuiyuuji]

My (i guess not) final thoughts on... Foundation

(i know no one will give a fuck about my opinion or will read this but i need to get this out of my system) Boy oh boy. Where do I even start? Never have I watched a show where one half is a masterpiece and the other half is ugly, boring, so predictable and made me furious. I have a history with our dear David S. Goyer. He often has great ideas, great visions but sometimes, more often than not, he is simply not capable in bringing those ideas into being. That is the opinion I have; you don’t have to think the same as I do. Don’t attack me for that. Thank you. The building of the Foundation / Terminus / Revenge and all that boring stuff. Anyways. One of the greatest flaws lies in the most important part. The whole building of the foundation. I am so thankful they had Jared Harris in this story. My heart broke every time when he came back, and they took him away from me again. The problem is that none of the other characters are able to carry the story, to make it interesting. They are dull, boring, predictable, and badly written. Very badly written. And with this, the actors are also bad. A good actor can only work with what he gets but, in my opinion, none of the actors who play a big part in the Foundation / Terminus / revenge arc are any good. Except Dr. Seldon / Jared Harris and they take him away from us. There is not one single character I could built a connection with. Their motives are stereotypical. All the characters are stereotypes. They were seen hundreds of times before. Apart from the bad acting, the story was predictable and boring. The visuals were ugly and more than once I just wanted to skip ahead and not waste my time on this crap anymore. Also. The end with Gaal and Sal? I am so sorry, but this was the most obvious part for me? I am surprised they even made a secret out of it. It made me so furious. Okay, enough of my rambling. Can I say anything good about any of this? No. I can’t. And I am sorry, but it needs to be said: ALL OF THE WOMEN ARE SO UNLIKABLE. Gaal, Sal, Phara, all the others we come across in the parts mentioned above make sick and I despise them. The whole thing with Brother Dawn. Here we start with my conflicted feelings. Although I understand the relevance of what happened with Dawn, I couldn’t care less. I didn’t like him and Azura war terrible. The whole story also suffered from bad writing and poor acting. They made a better job than the ones in the arcs mentioned above but it was just not good enough. Azura and Dawn as characters were unlikable in my eyes. Apart from that, fact is that the story was way too long to get us to the big twist and the plot point in all of this, their story was just like a stupid young adult romance book / story, and I despised it. It was cheasy, cheap and terribly executed. I didn’t feel sorry for Dawn or for Azura. I just hope we will never see that character ever again.

The Cleon arc and Empire. Now give me that good stuff. I don’t think I need to establish why I think that the whole drama with the genetic dynasty, the clones and my dear Brother Day is the best thing the show has to offer. Apart from the acting, the story, and the conflict within it is perfect. Lee Pace is the perfect actor to play Day, I instantly fell in love with him. He is the only character which went through the process of character development. Real development. The only one who was confronted with existential questions and fears. And it is brilliantly executed. All the actors within the Cleon arc are fantastic. Believable. There were moments where they would take away my breath because of how wonderful the acting was. Apart from the fact that the story is interesting, it’s the wonderful acting from all the people who are involved that make this are shine. It feels like all the love from the creators went into the whole Cleon / Empire stuff. I have nothing bad to say about any of it. Only praise. I wouldn’t mind a whole show only about Cleon / the Brothers. Would me more interesting than the other things going on in Foundation.

Other Stuff and a few personal things. So to get this straight out of the way. I like Demerzel but I am certain she is the one who messed up the DNA for the other clones and I guess Day should get rid of her and maybe that is what will happen (: I also think the reason why she killed Dawn was in part because Day made her kill Zephyr Halima. So what made me love Day so much? Apart from the fact that I adore Lee Pace with all my heart … it’s the questions and fears he is confronted with and how he deals with it. Or is unable to deal with it. He fears the change. He discovered that he is nothing more than a soulless vessel. Less than a robot. What is he of not human? Only the echo of a man long gone. Only ideas. Only his will unable to be different, to make his own choices. Or is he in the end able to chance the Empire? I think the fact that they are all corrupted could be a massive chance. To make things better. So built a legacy for himself. To be the first out of so many. Somehow it feels deeply personal form me. Aren’t we all questioning ourselves what footprint we will leave when we are gone? How will people think and talk about us? What legacy we will leave behind? What does it matter? Do we matter or are we only an echo ourselves, unable to chance anything? Destined to wither away, to be forgotten? Day didn’t have any vision in the mother’s womb. Does it affect him? Certainly. But how will it chance him? Will he accept the possibility of chance and overcome his fear, or will he fight against it and go down with the Empire? I could go on and on for hours. All of this is great stuff for discussion so if you wanna talk about it, I am all here for you. For now, I will bring this to an end. I hope they will chance a few things for season two. I hope they will listen to the fans. And I hope they will make it better. Because, as I said in the post before, I want them to make it better.

And let’s be honest, we need more Lee in it. Way. More. Lee. I won’t bother you any further. Have an amazing day. Take care of yourself. Stay safe. Thank you for reading.

  Yours truly

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Alex + Julie "You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better."

you sent me this prompt a million years ago i'm sorry it took me so long to answer it. warning for friendship breakup angst. there's no carrie redemption arc in this fic but there IS alexjulie friendship.

with love on their throats | g | 1.7k | alex&julie, past julie&carrie

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Julie doesn’t mean to ignore the boys all afternoon, but Carrie’s birthday was hard last year and so far, this year doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.

She has the foresight to turn her phone off, at least, this year. She can’t handle the social media posts from everyone else at their school. They’re probably in Carrie’s pool, in her kitchen, in her living room. Probably throwing around the throw cushions that Julie’s mom taught her and Carrie to sew covers for when they were ten. Maybe even smashing the glasses Julie used to drink Trevor’s homemade iced tea out of when she would come to visit before Carrie got home from sport in the evenings. The idea of seeing these familiar spaces still just… out there, existing, rather than stuck in the past along with her and Carrie’s friendship, makes Julie nauseous.

Plus, there’s the added bonus of not being able to text Carrie something reckless she might regret.

So her phone’s switched off. Her dad knows not to bother her today anyway, since he had a front-row seat to whole Carrie mess when it happened. He just shot her a sympathetic glance over breakfast and hasn’t spoken to her at all. Carlos is at a friend’s house, and wouldn’t bother her even if he were home.

It’s just the ghosts Julie is avoiding, locked her bedroom door, perched on her window seat with her headphones on, watching YouTube on her laptop.

Which means it scares her half to death when Alex waves a hand in front of her face.

She yanks her headphones off and curses, sharp and a little louder than she means to, and Alex jumps back like he’s been burned. “Julie! Uh, hi, hey. Sorry to scare you.”

“Why didn’t you knock?!” she demands, still breathless. “It’s you, you know better! Boundaries!”

At least Alex has the decency to look shamefaced. “I know, listen, it’s just -- we were worried about you! And we did knock, a lot, actually, but I don’t think you could hear us? So I said we should give you space but Luke and Reg started psyching each other out, and Luke’s never been able to handle space the same way since the Caleb Covington Kidnapping Incident--”

Which, okay, yeah, that’s fair enough. Julie still shudders at the memory of the Caleb Covington Kidnapping Incident.

“-- so then I got nominated because, well, Reg worried you might be getting changed or something, and that makes me the obvious choice, not that I wanted to be the obvious choice, just that -- okay, I’m doing a bad job, what I mean is --”

Finally, she decides to put him out of his misery. “Alex, stop. It’s fine.”

Relieved, he lets out a breath and leans on his knees, looking up at her with pretty, apologetic eyes. “Still. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to frighten you, we just… got worried. And wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve been in here all day.”

Julie nods and looks back at her laptop, where the YouTube video is still playing, and pauses it.

She hasn't looked back over at Alex when he says, cautious, "Are you okay?"

When she replies, “Yeah,” it isn’t because she wants to lie to him, necessarily. It’s more because she doesn’t know how to untangle her feelings enough to lay them out in front of him. More because it’s hard to explain why she still misses someone who she knows hurt her, who she knows should have known better.

It’s hard to explain why she feels guilt, and grief, over something she chose to let go.

The window seat dips when he sits down next to her, fingers twisted together in his lap, shoulders rolled forward. He’s offering her the tiniest, encouraging smile in the form of a little quirk at the corner of his mouth. Julie loves him so much that it softens the heartache, just for a moment.

But then it returns. Just as strong. Just as unreasonable. Just as painful.

“It’s Carrie’s birthday,” she tells him, without even knowing why she says it.

“Oh,” he replies, which seems fair. She doesn’t know what she’d say in his position. He chews his lip, a crease forming in his brow. “You guys used to be friends, right?”

God, can she talk about this out loud? It’s easier to joke with Flynn, to make fun of the situation, because Flynn saw it all play out, held Julie when she cried, stopped being friends with Carrie in solidarity. Explaining the situation from start to finish, to someone new, just feels impossible.

So instead she says, “Do you ever miss someone you know you can’t have back? Or not that you can’t. But you know you shouldn’t. You know that you can’t get them back, or you’d have to give up too much for it and it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Because sure, if Julie was really committed, she’s sure she could grovel her way back into Carrie’s inner circle. But as much as she misses her, she’s not prepared to do it.

Alex nods, understanding. “Yeah,” he says plainly. “Yeah, I do. Tons of people.”

Julie’s surprised, but she supposes she shouldn’t be. The boys talk about Alex’s family the way Julie’s mom used to talk about ghosts -- never directly, otherwise they’d hear her and be summoned -- and after the whole thing with Trevor, well. It makes sense.

“Can I get it to stop?” Julie asks. “I had to turn off my phone before I did something stupid like text her. What would I even say? Why would I want to say anything?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. He leans over so their shoulders bump together, and she leans her head on him. “It’s okay to miss her, you know. You guys had good things in your friendship -- I mean, I guess, right? That’s why you miss it?”

Julie nods, closing her eyes. There are so many good memories she doesn’t even know where to start. Running in the park. Sitting at the piano together. Fashion shows for their dads and Julie’s mom in the living room of the Wilsons’ huge house. Sleepovers with Flynn full of bickering and giggling and pillow fights. Birthday parties, their whole lives.

“But that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a good reason for stepping away,” Alex says.

That’s true, too. Julie’s pretty sure they didn’t have that good stuff for a while before their friendship ended, in reality. Carrie was becoming… snappish. Self-absorbed. All she wanted to do was boss the other girls in dance class around, and she didn’t ask to hear Julie’s songs anymore. Julie knew that being a good friend meant weathering the good with the bad, but she gave Carrie what felt like a million chances, and she wasn’t getting anything back. When she’d tried to bring it up to Carrie, things had… exploded.

She explains as much to Alex, in fits and spurts, and finishes with, “She just… blew up at me, she told me she’d been sick of me for ages and asked why I hadn’t noticed. Like I was just supposed to realise that we weren’t friends anymore without her telling me.” Sucking in a shaky breath, she manages, “And then my mom…”

“Oh, Julie,” Alex murmurs softly into her hair. She’s trying not to cry, she really is, but it feels all bubbly at the surface of her chest, and the way he puts an arm around her and squeezes tight shows that he can tell.

“I know it’s silly,” she chokes, “but it feels like we broke up, or something, even though we were just friends. It hurts so much just thinking about her.”

“It’s not silly,” he assures her, and wraps his other arm around her, too, so he’s hugging her close to him with her head against his chest. “There’s nothing less important about friends, and a friendship ending can really suck. Especially how she did it.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and doesn’t draw attention to the few tears making their way down her cheeks. They sit like that for a moment, then Alex says quietly, “You’re a wonderful friend. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve so much better.”

Sniffling, Julie rubs her sleeve across her eyes, wiping away the tears. The thought dawns on her like the sunrise after a long, sleepless night. “I have so much better,” she realises out loud. “I have Flynn. And Dad and Carlos. And you and Luke and Reggie.”

“We are pretty fantastic,” Alex agrees, faux-smug, but his eyes are still cautious, and affectionate. “But it’s okay to be upset anyway.”

“I know,” she says. And she does. “But I think I’m almost done being upset. For now, at least. Maybe we could run through a few songs?”

“I’m sure the boys would love that,” Alex tells her, smiling, and he goes to stand up but she holds on tighter, so he won’t leave the hug.

He just feels so steady, and comforting, and she’ll never really get over being able to actually hold them. “Can we just. Stay here for a moment, first?”

Easing himself back down, Alex grins and pulls her closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Of course,” Alex says. “We can take as long as you need. Just us, or the others, too?”

She pauses. “The others, too.”

Alex closes his eyes, and Julie knows he’s reaching out to the others, through their one leftover remnant of their time in the afterlife, tugging at their leads until they come to find him. A moment later, Reggie and Luke both pop into presence in the middle of her room, puppy-eyed with worry and hope.

“Julie?” asks Reggie quietly, fiddling with his fingers.

“You good?” Luke asks, on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah,” she tells them. “Just needed a hug.”

Within moments, they’re all around her and Alex, Reggie’s arm around her waist, Luke’s leg somehow, inexplicably, over her lap. Alex makes an insulted noise, but he’s so relaxed, Julie knows he must not mean it. When she presses her ear to his collarbone, Julie can hear his heartbeat, solid and alive, miraculous. Her friend’s heartbeat. Her friends, all around her.

Things are still bittersweet, and it’s still Carrie’s birthday, but Julie is still surrounded by love, enveloped in it, living in it. She can be sad for what’s gone, and be grateful for what she has, at the same time.