#he probably had more to do with him existing as the power half of the couple-

[the-barefoot-hatter]

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[meticulousmaker]

another random thing that stands out to me rewatching Steven Universe as an adult:

throughout the show there's this clear Vibe that Steven has inherited some big magical destiny, right? and it makes sense narratively: he's the son of Rose Quartz, leader of the rebellion, now being raised by her friends who were the last remaining survivors of an interstellar war. he's like a human child in most ways, except he has magical powers that start to become more obvious as he's getting older. no one like him has ever existed before. it's a big deal. raising him and figuring out how he's going to grow is its own unique challenge, because nobody knows what to expect. so of course there's this magical destiny vibe, given all that.

What's interesting to me, though, is that this magical destiny is in no way literally, physically present in the story, it's just something everyone kinda feels. Like, there's not some ancient prophecy about a half-gem, half-human savior. He's not the Chosen One in any literal sense, he just happens to give off Chosen One vibes. And I say that's interesting because it means that the fact he was kinda raised with this Chosen One vibe is completely a decision everyone around him made, for better or for worse. And the show is aware of this, because the weight of Rose's legacy and everyone's expectations of him is a constant theme, and as Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all grow and develop, they also realize the downsides of them putting those expectations on a child. Like, Steven spends his whole childhood being told about how great Rose was, and how because he's inherited her gem he will probably inherit her powers - and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Imagine how awful things could have been if Steven had no exposure to the Gems and no knowledge of what they were or how they worked, and then his powers started coming in? It was hard enough even when he was surrounded by the most qualified Gem Experts on Earth. But being primed for all of this "you're going to have your mother's magical powers" stuff put a heavy weight on his shoulders, and then the fact that nobody else quite knew how his abilities worked meant he was constantly faced with the adults in his life looking to him with concern because they didn't know what was happening with him. That's gotta leave an impression on a kid - and, well, throughout the show and especially in SU Future we definitely see that it does.

I like the way the show handles the pressure that's put on him, and the fact that everyone is just... trying their best in a completely unprecedented situation. Nobody knows what to do or how to raise this kid, and that inevitably causes problems but everyone is trying. And Steven can feel that everyone is trying without knowing what to do and he just wants to help and not be a burden and none of his caretakers have said that he's a burden but he can feel everyone's confusion and concern and the expectations he's not living up to and he cares so much, about everyone, about everything. He's in an extremely unique position that grants him opportunities to help that nobody else has, and he feels like he's failing everyone if he can't fulfill that, and in the end it never should have been his job to fix things but somebody had to try. Somebody had to try, and he was one of the only people with the ability to stop the Diamonds, stop the war, stop the lies, stop his world and everyone on it from being destroyed... and he was just a kid.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time. 

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them. 

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how. 

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living. 

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor. 

Mom and Dad don’t mean it. 

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew. 

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever. 

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers. 

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more. 

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him. 

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins. 

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost. 

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?” 

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?” 

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Platonic! Yandere Daemon as your father...

. Daemon is proud of his blood. The moment he heard of a child that bore striking resemblance to his features, he immediately set out to reclaim what was his. He cared little for the woman who he shared a bed with, you were his child. He cares little for your bastard heritage, as long as you were his, he wanted you.

. The moment he sets his cold steel eyes upon your little form, he grew entranced. So this is the little one he's heard so much about. he wastes no time scooping you up and tucking you under his arm, trudging back to his sneering red beast as you wail and kick. The sooner he gets you home, the better. Your fight almost amuses him, a feeling warming in his chest that he has another firey daughter to call his own. Baela and laena will love you.

. Now obviously Daemon is not a man of... Honour, so to speak. You already had a heavy inkling since he kidnapped you, but learning about his disastrous and odd relationships with other women, it only digs the hole of contempt deeper. The older you grow, the more you understand. The concepts clear, the ones that held no weight or comprehension to your young troubled mind holding clarity and meaning. It's safe to say whatever bond he yearns for is all but doomed attempts. Still, he pushes and pushes. He'll keep you pinned under his thumb for as long as he can, at any cost.

. It's a strong chance that he may not want you to have a dragon of your own. A dragon meant freedom. Power. Something he felt you had no need for, you have a whole castle of Dragonriders who will defend you to their last breath after all. Why need one? Besides, Ceraxes is right here. He'll probably encourage you to rely on Ceraxes or Syrax the most. If you want dragons, they are at your disposal. If you were to gain a dragon, he'd be disgruntled at best, passive aggressive at worst.

. He is not around often, due to his little side quests and whatnot. What keeps him fairly calm is knowing that you're in safe hands within the secure walls of dragonstone. Rhaenary adores you like her own, and you are often kept distracted with toys and books and dresses and dragons to your hearts content. As long as you stay within the castle, he doesn't mind you all too much.

He does however have passive aggressiveness towards his nephew, Aegon, with his ill treatment of you. At some point Daemon probably encourages you to wack the boy back, yes, with that heavy book right there... Probably followed by a snide little chuckle as Alicent can only silently hold her tongue in discontent.

. Ceraxes is just as transfixed with you. He's a nosy dragon around you, fixing you with wide eyed glares that seem to drink your existence in, imposing and domineering. However he sings and chirps in your presence, purring happily to see you. Daemon will try to take you on as many dragon rides with you as possible as a child, wanting to find something to do to spend time with you. Something mutual, despite the unequal power balance. You love dragons, and your princely father has a dragon. A beautiful dragon. A serpentine dragon of blood red scales and filled with song. Come now, sweetling. Don't you like ceraxes? He loves you. Dry your eyes and hurry along. Look, he's added an extra harness to the saddle just for you.

Now when you do agree to ride, albeit a little dishearteningly, Daemon is truly happy. His smile is slight and thin, but his eyes speak all. Ceraxes will purr in his shrill song, pressing himself low to the floor as your father lifts you up to sit upon the saddle. Daemon can ignore your pouting quite contently.

. Baela and rhaena are your fond half-sisters, who often feel like your only rocks amidst the storm you've been dragged into. They are protective and patient with you, and are usually the only ones to truly listen to your woes and pleas. There is little they can do, like taking you back home. Besides, they have their own motives. They hate to see you miserable, but you'll have a considerably better life in the castle. You'll always be fed and kept safe, you'll never have to sleep upon straw or wear rags again. They still remember the little grimy child that Daemon brought home, and they dread the thought of you living like that again. They are a little yandere too, but considerably more relaxed and gentle. They don't say no to having you join them on dragon rides or horseback riding away from DragonStone, but as long as you return with them, they'll be content.

"Consider, sister" baela will coo

"father will find you. Ceraxes undoubtedly has your scent" rhaena chimes in, stroking your cheek and thumbing away a tear.

"and we would miss you" baela whispers, sharing a look with her twin. They both equally bear the burden knowing that there is little escape for you, and they sympathise with your situation. However- ultimately, like dragons, they are filled with greed and fire. They enjoy having you at home with them. They like braiding and styling your hair, or reading you stories, or having you interact with their dragons. Morning and moondancer are lovely dragons, and are the least smothering. They'll croon and let you pet them, but they won't stare like Ceraxes or nudge you around like a worrisome mother like Syrax. It's a strong chance as well that you were there to comfort them as they grieved their mother, even if it had been a couple years after her passing. Grief is still stricken in their hearts, but you- the little tearful bastard child, held empathy for them. You had just lost your mother, so to speak, and knew what it was like not being able to see her again. To never hear her voice once more, or to feel the touch of her hands upon your brow or her lips against your forehead.

You had embraced them with all your childlike bashfulness and clumsiness, embracing them hard in your little arms as they sniffled into your shoulders. Your words, despite being ungraceful and poised, were heartfelt. Since then, they were glued to you. Often being stuck in-between them and holding their hands as they weaved throughout lords and ladies at banquets and balls, giggling with warm joy as you would try to keep up with them- a big smile on your face for once.

. Daemon will see your close bond with your half-sisters and use it to his advantage. He'll watch you all embrace and giggle and play, and watch fondly. Knowing that you at least had a reason to smile here now.

. It is settled in his mind. Rhaenyra will keep you smothered in pretty things and toys and books, your half-sisters will keep you smiling, and he will keep you safe in your cage.

. One saving grace from Daemon, however is that he won't give your hand away to any lord that comes tottering by. So? You think because she is a bastard it means she should just settle for whatever she can get? That's his princess you're talking about. Daemon is always sure of his view of marriage- it's for political power. But for you, due to your heritage and claim, there is no need to hand you over to a lord or prince. It's the only shred of freedom you'll be granted, and let's be honest, life as a targarian woman isn't pretty. The gods could ask for you, and he'll still deny them.

. Overall, he would be a pretty standoffish yet controlling yandere. He'll use the people around you to keep you trapped and within his control, and stand in with his intimidation and wit to keep things running the way he wants it. There is little chance of escaping with him as your father- he has eyes across the earth, the oceans, and the sky. But as long as you stay content within the stone walls of your prison, all will be well.

[ckret2]

Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:

Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!

But not everything about his dimension.

"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.

"Not natural ones."

"Awww!"

"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."

"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"

Bill didn't answer.

Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"

####

For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.

Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.

His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.

As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.

He stared back.

And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.

####

"Bill?"

"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"

"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.

Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"

"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"

"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"

"Superheroes don't kill people!"

"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"

"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.

Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."

"WHAT!"

"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"

"What color glitter did you wear?!"

"Usually gold."

"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"

"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"

"You're boring."

"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."

"What colors."

"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."

Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"

"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.

"What kind of music did you listen to?"

"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."

####

It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.

"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."

Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"

Bill sighed.

He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.

####

By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.

When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.

But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.

When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"

####

Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."

"Oh, I'm so ready!"

Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"

"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"

"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"

"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"

"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"

"Twelve! Decadoggins!"

"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"

"Random mutation!"

"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."

"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"

"With consequences including—?"

"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"

"Mortality."

"Lots of dead babies."

"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"

"Cancer!"

"Meaning circles are...?"

"Tumors!"

"And what do we do with tumors?"

"EXECUTE THEM!"

"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.

Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)

"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.

"Awww, again?!"

"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."

Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.

Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.

A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.

And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.

Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 

He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?

"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"

"Right," Mabel said.

"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."

"But it's actually a curve. From space."

"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?

Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"

"Right."

"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"

Mabel hesitated. "Right."

"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"

"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.

"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."

And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.

Bill said, "I lost you."

"But where does it go!"

Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."

"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"

"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."

"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"

"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."

Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.

"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."

Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.

"Those aren't straight lines, kid."

"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."

He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."

"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."

"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."

The scene made Ford ache.

Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.

It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.

In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.

Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.

Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.

Hatred tiredly crept back in.

"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"

"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.

"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.

Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."

Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."

"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.

Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."

"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."

"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."

She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"

"Right."

"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.

Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"

Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."

"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"

"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.

She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"

"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."

"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."

Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."

He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.

Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."

"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"

And Ford was immediately lost again.

"No," Bill said.

Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"

"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."

Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.

Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.

And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.

Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 

It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wanted something from him. 

On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?

It had made Ford want him dead even more.

This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.

The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:

Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?

"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"

Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"

Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"

"What does the fourth dimension look like?"

"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."

"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"

"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."

"How's that different."

Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."

"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"

Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"

Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)

[lizziesangel]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 7

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: +4.7k

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travelling

to be added to taglist

The sun filtered gently through the glass panes of the greenhouse, casting soft patterns of light across rows of exotic plants and herbs. Herbology class was well underway, and you were elbow-deep in soil and greenery alongside Lucas, who had somehow managed to turn a simple pruning task into an elaborate plan for early retirement.

“Added some lacewing flies and a bit of powdered root of asphodel to this,” he said, pointing to the strangely wriggling plant in front of him, a devil’s snare cutting, “We could probably start our own illicit potion business. Think about it—retirement by seventh year.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a cloth and shaking your head. “I’m not sure Professor Garlick would be too thrilled if we used her greenhouse as our secret lab.”

Lucas sighed, putting a hand over his heart with exaggerated disappointment. “Ah, the crushing weight of responsibility. We could’ve been legends, Y/n.”

“Legends for getting expelled, maybe,” you said with a smirk as you carefully pruned a particularly thorny stem.

Professor Garlick approached your table, smiling approvingly as she noticed your progress. “Very good, you two! Lucas, Y/n, keep up the excellent work. And do try not to let the devil’s snare strangle you,” she added with a wink.

Once she moved on, Lucas leaned closer to you, whispering, “Imagine the scandal—two young potioneers with enough galleons to buy a private island in the caribbean.”

“You’d probably find a way to ruin it,” you teased, nudging him as you moved to another plant. “And besides, there’s more to life than mischief, you know.”

Lucas gave you an exaggerated gasp, as if you’d said something offensive. “More to life than mischief? Sacrilege!” he shook his head, feigning disappointment. “How did I end up with a friend who has such… practical dreams?”

“Pure luck, Lucas,” you replied with a grin.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Fine, we’ll stick to legal Herbology pursuits—for now.”

As the hour went on, you and Lucas worked in comfortable silence, tending to the plants and whispering snatches of gossip about other students when Professor Garlick wasn’t in earshot.

After class, as you gathered your things, you noticed a few Slytherins nearby, casting glances your way. Lucas noticed too, and his expression shifted to something slightly annoyed.

“Why do they always look at us like that?” he muttered, tightening his grip on his bag. “You’d think they’re plotting our downfall or something.”

You shrugged, amused. “Maybe they’re intimidated by your incredible potion-business ideas.”

Lucas grinned. “Obviously. The Slytherins can sense power and ambition from a mile away. They’re jealous.”

The common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening, the fire crackling softly as you curled up in your favorite armchair with a book balanced on your lap. The faint chatter of students coming and going was a distant hum in the background, and for once, the usual chaos felt like a comforting lull.

You were only half-paying attention to the words on the page, your mind drifting to the slug club party later that evening. The dark purple dress you’d bought with Lucas hung neatly over your trunk upstairs, waiting for the moment you’d finally have to face the reality of being Tom Riddle’s date. It wasn’t exactly something you could forget, but for now, you tried to focus on your book.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the story, a familiar, weighty thud landed on the armrest of your chair. You looked up to find Shadow—your mysterious cat—perched beside you, his green eyes blinking at you like he’d been there all along.

“You,” you muttered, putting the book down and reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “You’ve been missing for days. Where have you been?”

Shadow didn’t answer, obviously, but he let out a soft purr and nuzzled against your hand as if to make up for his absence. You smiled, feeling a strange wave of relief at his return. Even with his habit of disappearing, shadow always seemed to reappear at the moments you needed him most.

“There you are!” Maeve’s cheerful voice rang out, and you looked up to see her, Alicia, and Lilith coming through the portrait hole. Lucas trailed behind them, holding a box of what looked suspiciously like contraband sweets from Honeydukes.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Maeve said, flopping onto the couch across from you. “Lucas said you were probably reading, but I thought you’d already started getting ready for the party.”

“Not yet,” you admitted, scratching shadow under his chin. “Trying to delay the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Alicia repeated, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down beside Maeve. “You’re going as Tom Riddle’s date. That’s not inevitable—it’s gossip gold.”

“Or terrifying,” Lilith added quietly, her brown curls bouncing as she sat cross-legged on the floor near the fire. “I mean, he’s… scary.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lucas said, waving his hand dismissively as he dropped the box of sweets onto the table. “If anyone can survive an evening with him, it’s Y/n. She’s practically unshakable.”

You gave him a dry look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’ll need it,” he replied, smirking as he popped a chocolate frog into his mouth. “But seriously, it’s just a party. Plus, you’ve got the best dress in the castle. Riddle will look like a second thought next to you.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” you said, rolling your eyes. “As long as I outshine the future dark lord, all is well.”

Your friends laughed, and for a moment, the tension you’d been carrying all week eased. Shadow hopped off the armrest, stretching lazily before curling up at your feet, his purring filling the space between your banter.

“So,” Alicia said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “Are we all meeting up after the party to dissect every awkward detail?”

“Obviously,” Maeve said, grinning back. “This is too good to miss.”

Lucas sighed dramatically. “You know, sometimes I think I’m the only normal one in this group.”

“Normal?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who suggested starting a black-market potion business during herbology.”

“She’s got you there,” Lilith murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Lucas huffed, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Fine. But if Riddle tries anything shady, I’m hexing him. Rules be damned.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, smiling despite the knot of nerves tightening in your chest.

Shadow let out a low, rumbling purr as if to say he agreed, and you scratched his ears again, feeling oddly comforted by his presence. No matter what happened tonight, at least you wouldn’t be facing it completely alone.

You stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, smoothing out the dark purple silk of your dress as you took a shaky breath. Tonight was the slug club party, and while part of you was excited for the evening ahead, while a heavier feeling lingered underneath—a strange mix of dread and curiosity about spending the night as Tom Riddle’s date.

“Okay, let’s see it! Give us a twirl” Alicia’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned, showing the full length of your dress to your friends. Alicia’s grinned, her green eyes lighting up as she clapped. “You look stunning, Y/n! Riddle’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You rolled your eyes but did as she asked, spinning in your dress. The fabric flowed around you, brushing your ankles, catching the soft glow of the room’s candlelight. It was simple, but elegant, and it felt… right. Yet there was still a knot of nerves coiling in your stomach.

Lilith, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, gave you an approving nod. “Seriously, you look incredible. And if he doesn’t appreciate it, well… he’s an idiot.”

“Or, you know,” Maeve said with a smirk, “He’s just Tom Riddle, and he doesn’t appreciate anything.”

“But, honestly, Y/n, you look amazing,” Maeve added, standing back to admire her friend.

You let out a laugh, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Thanks, guys. but… it feels weird, you know? like, I want to go and have fun, but with him?”

“I just…I don’t know. I kind of want to go, but… Riddle as my date? It’s… complicated.”

Alicia laughed, shaking her head. “You think? He practically just told you that you’re his date, didn’t even ask if you wanted to go with him. Sounds about right for him.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly give ‘polite,’” Lilith agreed, her brows knitting together. “But you don’t have to be around him all night, y’know? Stick with Lucas and his date. He’ll be there, and you can just make a night out of it.”

You sighed, playing with the hem of your dress. “That’s the plan, honestly. But… Riddle just has this way of… getting under my skin.”

Maeve snorted. “I mean, he’s intense. I can see how he’d get under anyone’s skin. But look, just… don’t let him intimidate you, yeah?”

Alicia leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And if he starts acting all dark and mysterious, just give him one of those looks you do. The one where you look unimpressed by everything.”

You laughed, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I think that’ll be my go-to tonight. I’ll probably need it.”

Lilith smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and a hint of pride. “We’re serious, though. You don’t owe him anything, okay? He’s your ‘date’ because he decided he is, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel pressured. It’s just one night.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mix of gratitude and reassurance. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Maeve hugged you quickly before stepping back. “You won’t have to find out. We’ve got your back—even if we’re not there. and if Riddle gives you trouble, just remember: you can handle yourself. No one messes with our girl.”

Alicia gave you a little nudge toward the door, grinning. “Go knock ‘em dead, Y/n. you’re going to have an amazing time—even if Riddle is… well, Riddle.”

You took a deep breath, smoothing out your dress one last time. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

As you left the room, your friends called out goodbyes and last-minute pieces of advice, and you felt a small surge of confidence. Yes, he was intense, and yes, he had a way of unsettling you in ways you couldn’t quite explain. But tonight, you had friends who had your back, even from afar.

The castle was alive with energy as you walked through the halls, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Lucas was by your side, his usual mischievous grin replaced with a faint look of concern. “Don’t worry, Y/n,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “If things get too weird with Riddle, you know I’ll be there to pull you out.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you replied, though the tightness in your chest told you there was no simple escape from whatever would unfold at the party. “But if things get too weird, I might just disappear into the punch bowl.”

Lucas laughed, but his gaze lingered on the door ahead. “If you need a distraction, I’ve got the best one in mind. I’ve already got some tricks up my sleeve for Slughorn.”

Before you could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows near the entrance to the party. You felt your heart skip a beat when you saw him—Tom Riddle, tall, imposing, his dark eyes catching the flickering light as he leaned casually against the stone wall. For a moment, everything seemed to slow, as if the world itself had taken a collective breath.

Riddles’s gaze flicked over to you the second you stepped into his line of sight, his lips curling into that infuriatingly smug smirk. He didn’t even spare Lucas a second glance.

“Ah, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an underlying sharpness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I see you’re finally ready for the evening.” his eyes never left yours as he spoke, completely ignoring Lucas standing beside you.

“You look... okay, Y/n.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, a frown tugging at his lips. “You could at least say hello, Riddle. It’s called manners.”

Riddle’s gaze flicked briefly to Lucas, but only for a moment, barely acknowledging his presence before returning to you. “Manners, Creevey?” he repeated, his tone bored, as if the concept didn’t interest him in the slightest. “You’ll excuse me if I have more... pressing matters to attend to.”

Before Lucas could respond, Riddle stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he reached out and took your arm, his grip firm and possessive. “Shall we?” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your breath caught in your throat as he began to lead you away from Lucas, his fingers warm against your skin, his touch sending an unexpected jolt through your chest. the tension in the air thickened as he pulled you further into the grand hallway, the buzz of the party growing louder.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Lucas called after you, his voice laced with an edge of irritation.

Riddle didn’t even look back. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to forget about your entertaining presence,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. The way he said it made you feel as though you were already stepping into a different world—one that was far removed from Lucas and your friends.

As the two of you approached the doors of the party, you felt a sudden surge of nerves, your heartbeat picking up its pace. It was as if the walls of the castle were closing in around you, the weight of Riddle’s gaze heavy on your back.

When you stepped into the grand ballroom, Slughorn was waiting near the entrance, his jovial expression lighting up as he spotted you. “Ah, here they are!” he boomed, his round face flushed with excitement. “The charming Y/n and our guest of honor, the ever-elusive Tom Riddle!”

Riddle’s lips curled into a tight, enigmatic smile as he bowed his head slightly. “Professor,” he said smoothly, his voice as calm and controlled as ever. “I’m honored to be here.”

You gave a tight smile, not sure whether to feel nervous or irritated by the way Riddle was behaving—calm, collected, but almost too detached for comfort. Slughorn beamed at you both, clearly enjoying the spectacle of the night.

As Slughorn led you further into the room, introducing you to a few other guests, you felt Riddle’s fingers gently tighten around your arm, pulling you just a little closer to him. “Don’t get too comfortable, Y/n,” he murmured lowly, his breath brushing against your ear. “I’ll be the one to decide how comfortable you get tonight.”

You shivered involuntarily, a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite identify flooding through you. You managed to keep your voice steady, though your pulse raced in your ears. “And if I don’t want to play by your rules?”

Riddle’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with an unreadable emotion. “You’ll learn to, eventually,” he said with a soft laugh, the sound sending an icy chill down your spine. “We all do. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could reply, Slughorn was back at your side, beaming at both of you with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Ah, the perfect pair! Tom, Y/n, you two are going to be the highlight of tonight, I can feel it!” he said, his voice booming above the music. “You’re like a shining star, Riddle,” he added, addressing Riddle with an exaggerated wink. “And Y/n, my dear, you’re simply glowing tonight. Glowing, I tell you!”

You gave a tight smile, feeling Riddle’s gaze still lingering on you as Slughorn chatted animatedly, clearly enjoying the attention. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something possessive, something dangerous—that sent an uncomfortable shiver through you. The feeling was unmistakable.

The room was buzzing with energy, the soft clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversations, and the elegant swirl of music filling the air. Slughorn, as usual, was floating between groups, effortlessly charming everyone around him. You, however, found yourself slipping away from the crowd, subtly scanning the room in search of someone.

Lucas had been acting unusually off tonight, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something more subdued. He’d mentioned earlier that someone had asked him to the Slug Club party, and ever since, he’d been on edge, occasionally glancing across the room as if he were searching for someone.

You couldn’t help but wonder who the mysterious person was. It had to be important if it was causing Lucas, the master of wit and sarcasm, to lose his usual calm. You caught sight of him standing near the punch bowl, chatting with Cressida and Maeve, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere—across the room.

You tried to focus on the scene, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being drawn into a curiosity you couldn’t fully explain. Trying to mask your distraction, you turned your attention back to the room, but your gaze involuntarily flicked toward Lucas again.

“This is getting a bit sad to look at, don’t you think?” Riddle’s voice was smooth, his tone oozing amusement as his sharp eyes locked on you. He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ve been watching you watch him. Curious about who he's looking for, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, trying to ignore the sudden prickle of unease as his words seeped into your mind.

“How about I save you the trouble?” Riddle continued, a slight smirk curling on his lips as he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and chilling. “His name’s Jace Fenwick. A sixth-year Hufflepuff. Somewhat popular, though a bit of a loner when it comes to socializing outside his little friend circle.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “How do you even know this?”

Riddle ignored your question, continuing with unsettling ease. “Fenwick doesn’t really have the best reputation. You see, his father’s a wizard who supports the ‘dark side’, though he’s kept it quiet—surprising, considering the family’s connections. He’s been known to flirt his way into getting what he wants, but never quite manages to hold anyone’s interest for long. He’s been eyeing Lucas for a while, though I suppose you could say the feeling is mutual. He’s the kind of person who likes to think of himself as a knight in shining armor, always trying to rescue the underdogs, but really, he’s just after the thrill of the chase.”

Your pulse quickened as you tried to absorb the torrent of information Riddle was throwing at you. “Why would you even know all of this?”

Riddle’s gaze darkened, his eyes glittering like polished stones in the dim light of the party. “I observe, L/n. It’s a habit of mine,” he said casually, almost too calmly. “You should really stop wasting your time wondering. It’s a little too obvious.”

You weren’t sure if his words were meant to unsettle you, or if he was simply indulging in his usual method of rattling people. Either way, it worked. You felt your heart beat a little faster, a strange mix of irritation and discomfort swirling in your chest.

“Did you even ask Lucas if he wanted you to interfere with his personal life?” you shot back, trying to keep your composure.

Riddle raised an eyebrow, his expression never faltering. “If I didn’t interfere, how would you ever know the truth about anyone, hmm? Especially a person like Lucas Creevey.” He paused, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper as he added, “It’s not exactly a secret that he’s not as invincible as he likes to believe.”

You swallowed thickly, biting back a retort. You didn’t need to hear more about Lucas’s life from him. The unsettling calm with which Riddle delivered his revelations made you uneasy. He wasn’t just reading people; he was dissecting them with ease, like a magician pulling apart the strings of a carefully crafted illusion.

“And here you are,” Riddle continued, his gaze never leaving you as if savoring every word. “All caught up in someone else’s drama. Does it bother you? To see the people you care about distracted by their own petty games? You’ve become rather… fixated on him, haven’t you?”

Your lips pressed together into a tight line. “I’m not fixated,” you said sharply, though your tone wavered slightly under his stare. “Just concerned.”

“Of course,” Riddle said, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Concerned. How noble.” He straightened up then, his posture almost regal as his eyes lingered on you. “Tell me, Y/n, are you always this… naive?”

“Do you see someone else in him?”

Yes. Harry.

You blinked, your mind spinning with the tension that had suddenly thickened between the two of you. His words, while meant to provoke, felt like something much darker, as if there were a deeper meaning lurking beneath them. You couldn't tell whether he was mocking you or simply enjoying the control he seemed to hold over the conversation.

Before you could respond, he offered you one last lingering glance, his lips curling into that knowing smirk.

“Anyway, the party’s waiting. You should enjoy yourself tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t forget—I always know more than you think.”

With that, he turned on his heel, walking away as though he hadn’t just stripped away every ounce of comfort you'd felt about tonight.

As you watched him leave, you couldn’t help but feel unsettled, the fragments of his words replaying over and over in your mind. He knew too much. And, strangely, you couldn’t decide whether that terrified you even more… or intrigued you.

The party was winding down, the soft strains of music from the orchestra fading into a low hum, and the chatter of students gradually thinning as they gathered their coats and prepared to leave. You had spent most of the evening trying to keep your distance from Tom Riddle, still wrestling with the unsettling pull he had on you and the fear that he was, in fact, the very creature you had learned to despise—Voldemort.

But despite your best efforts, your gaze had often strayed toward him across the room, the way he carried himself with such eerie confidence, the way his dark eyes seemed to lock onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every time you tried to leave his orbit, he would reappear, always speaking in a way that left you breathless, or even more confused than before.

Now, as the party came to a close and the last guests began to file out, you tried to make your way to the door, hoping to slip away quietly and forget the unnerving conversation you’d had earlier. But just as you turned the corner of the corridor, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

Riddle stood there, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. His eyes glinted in a way that made your heart skip a beat, and you froze, instinctively taking a step back.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was smooth, almost too calm, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “I was. But it’s getting late, and I—”

“I’ve been studying you, Y/n.” Riddle’s words cut through your excuses, his tone suddenly serious, leaving you no room to avoid him. “You’re different. In a way that’s difficult to ignore.” His gaze flicked over you, the piercing, calculating intensity making you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you swallowed hard. “What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

“You’re not like the others,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “You’re not easy to read. You don't act like the others in your little group. There's something beneath the surface, something…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “…intriguing.”

Your breath hitched at his cryptic words, a mixture of confusion and wariness settling in your stomach. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Riddle,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he was looking at you made it difficult to concentrate.

“I think you do,” Riddle said softly, his voice almost a whisper, like a secret just between the two of you. “But you won’t admit it. Not yet.”

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Something in his voice, something about the way he was speaking, felt like a challenge—a game he was playing at your expense. But despite your growing unease, a strange part of you was compelled to hear him out.

“Stop playing games,” you said, trying to hide the uncertainty creeping into your tone. “What do you want from me?”

Tom took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t want anything,” he said, his voice low and tinged with something darker.

“At least, not yet.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could form the words, he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek with an almost unnerving gentleness. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as your body responded to his touch against your will.

“And what if,” he began, his voice now a mere breath, “I wanted to see what would happen if I took a little more than I should?”

Your stomach twisted, and you could barely process his words before he closed the space between you, his lips crashing against yours in an unexpected, forceful kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your thoughts scattered, leaving you dizzy and breathless as you stood frozen for a moment, your body in complete shock. His lips were soft yet demanding, pulling you into a kiss that was far too consuming for your mind to catch up with. The weight of his presence—his power—pressed down on you, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to melt into it, unable to tear away.

But as soon as it had started, he pulled back, his eyes dark with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His fingers lingered on your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw as if he were memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch.

You blinked, still reeling, your mind in a whirlwind. Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling unevenly, and you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. But as your heart hammered in your ears, you realized one thing clearly—nothing had felt the way you thought it would. You had expected revulsion, disgust, fear. Instead, something different stirred inside you, something both thrilling and terrifying.

“You really are a puzzle, Y/n,” Riddle said, his voice now softer, more deliberate. “I think I’m starting to like the challenge.”

Your mind raced, trying to process his words, the kiss, and the way your body still felt the lingering effects of his touch. But then it all came rushing back—he was Voldemort. The person you were supposed to hate. The monster who had caused so much pain and suffering.

And yet, you couldn’t deny the fact that he’d kissed you.

But you didn’t have time to think about it. The hallway seemed to close in around you, and you found yourself taking a hesitant step back, your thoughts a jumbled mess. The weight of the moment hung in the air, thick with tension and unanswered questions.

“You’ll understand in time,” Riddle said, his voice almost teasing as he took a final, lingering glance at you. “I promise you, Y/n—this is far from over.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, confused, and aching in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

The world around you felt too heavy as you tried to collect yourself, but one thing was certain—everything had just changed between you and Tom Riddle.

i am SO SORRY it took so long to update 😓😓- go to taglist request to be added, otherwise you will NOT be added

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[faux-ecrivain]

Yan babysitter

(Fourth official post)

(This one is a bit shorter than my other posts)

“Don’t worry I’ll take good care of them!” He placates your parents as they leave, waving them off and slamming the door shut when your parents have gone far enough.

He turns to you, with a rather fierce glare and shoos you off to your room. 

Yan babysitter that wants nothing to do with you, that only took the job because he needs the money. 

Yan babysitter who thinks you’re too old for a babysitter, but he doesn’t care, your parents are rich and that’s all he needs to know.

Yan babysitter who did not anticipate you to be such an irresponsible nuisance. (What’s with the weird cultists that keep knocking on the door and where’s that strange whispering coming from??)

Yan babysitter who quickly discovers that maybe this job was more than he bargained for, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive of his job.

Yan babysitter who, somehow, ended up trapped in another dimension and is trying to escape. (Turns out cultists don’t take too kindly to the door being slammed in their face)

Yan babysitter who is sure he’s going to die here in this strange dimension.

Yan Babysitter who regrets ever taking this job and swears that if he ever gets out he’s never coming to this house again.

Yan babysitter who faces the horrors of this other dimension, each monster warping his mind and easing him into insanity.

Yan babysitter who’s so close to escaping, but then he gets trapped by some weird otherworldly creature.

Yan babysitter whose life flashes before his eyes as the creature nears.

He closes his eyes and can only hope that this won’t be dragged out, he can feel the creature approach, and he can do nothing but curl up into a ball and beg for mercy.

However, death doesn’t come, no, just when the creature unhinged its jaw and prepares to (quite literally) devour Yan babysitter, he’s saved.

Yan babysitter who’s stunned whenever you rescue him and when he tries to express his gratitude you dismiss his gratitude. (This happened a lot, you tell him, you even suggest that it was your parents intention to sacrifice him.)

Yan babysitter, who from then on, is absolutely obsessed with you (he treats you like a deity, swearing that he’ll serve you forever.)

You brush him off, as you are used to saving irresponsible babysitters from the jaws of doom, then your try to ignore his constant rambling about you being a deity. (Because you aren’t, you’re just a normal person with magic powers) Yet, no matter how much you ignore him his ramblings don’t (Maybe you should’ve left him in that other dimension)

He takes your indifference as a sign of shyness, his mind warped by the brief time he spent in that other dimension. (Seriously, he’s going to need major therapy when he leaves this house) He decides to dedicate his life to protecting you or at the very least repay you for saving his life.

Which then leads to him following you around, intervening in everything you do and then isolating you from those he deems a threat. (Mostly your friends)

Somehow, in less than two weeks, he has threatened half of your neighborhood and caused almost all your friends to go missing. 

At this point, it occurs to you that maybe Yan babysitter is a danger to your lifestyle and you should probably get rid of him. Which marks the beginning of your attempts to erase him from existence, however this doesn’t sway him, and he somehow believes that the person targeting him is actually aiming for you.

So, now, you’ve got an overprotective babysitter watching your every move and probably hiding in your walls. (Maybe you should have let him rot in the other dimension, less trouble and you wouldn’t have had to explain to your parents why the demon in your basement is still hungry)

Yan babysitter who promises to always protect you and to be by your side forever. (He’s such a nuisance)

(Sorry for the short post, I was somewhat distracted by the tv when I was writing this.)

(Regardless, enjoy this post and feel free to comment)

[crimsoncandy04]

What if... Scaramouche cucking Kabukimono

(meanwhile in a parallel universe)

You never thought in a million years that it would be possible for someone to actually defeat The Traveler. But it finally happened.

And Scaramouche had finally completed his life's ambition and become the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.

But it STILL wasn't good enough for him. Something inside of him still burned with an unquenchable thirst for vengeance. Yet he didn't understand why.

Had he not achieved everything he set out to do?

Why was he still so... unsatisfied?

And then he remembered you one night.

You who had fought so bravely until you had been dealt a near fetal blow that had caused you to become comatose and unaware of the deaths of your old friends. You who had been clever in your attacks and almost just as underhanded as him sometimes.

Scaramouche could respect it.

A little.

Your martial prowess was often overshadowed by your disgusting and burdensome sensitivity.

You didn't want to hurt people.

Not if you didn't have to anyway.

It was your weakness and eventual downfall. Because after hearing Scaramouche's own life story and sympathizing with him, you were hesitant in finishing him off like you should have.

And he had seized the opportunity.

Emotions were a scourge on the face of humanity. Making them irrational. Making them weak.

You were no exception it seemed.

At least he, in all his wisdom and glory could understand this and overcome it.

Even if it was hard sometimes.

Scaramouche continued to imagine you, scared, confused, mournful, angry, and utterly alone in your cell beneath the sanctuary. He wanted to laugh at your circumstance or at least belittle you in his mind, but that same burning and nagging feeling ended up preventing him from doing so.

What was wrong with him?

Did he perhaps... feel bad for you?

Why?

You and that pesky traveler had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day you met.

So why, now that he had won. Had locked you away until you were healthy enough to be tried by law, did he continuously have dreams about your teary face? The deep sorrow that probably plagued your heart after learning that your friends were gone?

Why did Scaramouche... feel like he was experiencing some kind of deja vu whenever he pictured you all alone with no one to turn to?

It was that original sin of his wasn't it?

The very same feeling of empathy that had besmirched his very being since the day of his creation.

Why wouldn't it die?

It needed to.

But alas...the spirit of his former self lived on inside of Scaramouche's mind like a parasite.

And he hated how YOU triggered it.

It took a few weeks for Scaramouche to finally come up with a plan to solve both of his problems.

First was to extract the essence of his former consciousness and self via an abyssal reach that only a god could ever hope to accomplish. It had exhausted him in doing so.

But the results were better than ideal.

Secondly, use the knowledge of the world at his disposal as well as what he could remember about himself and his own inner workings to create another vessel for the extracted consciousness.

And lastly, order some attendants to retrieve you from your prison cell below and bring you to him somewhat sedated and pumped full of some new drug that had been created by the fatui for torture purposes.

Once Scaramouche laid eyes on the perfect physical replica/clone of Kabukimono as well as a half conscious and drooling you on the floor, he knew that he would leave this room with there being no more doubt in the world,

That Scaramouche was truly the most powerful being in existence.

***Time Skip***

You sit awkwardly as the machine beneath you brought you to orgasm for the 6th time in a row. The giant purple dildo thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy quickly, assaulting your g spot repeatedly whether you liked it or not.

All the while, the monster who had you injected with powerful aphrodisiacs and sedatives was just watching the sybian destroy your cunt with a sick delight in his eyes. You wanted to yell at him through your ball gag but instead you just continued to moan loudly as you felt yourself piss again. Even then the machine didn't stop.

Scaramouche laughed coldly as he grew bored of you and soon turned to face his former self who he had bound in a similar fashion to you just a few feet away. Kabukimono's arms were pulled tightly behind his back. Secured to his ankles, forcing his legs apart.

Scaramouche couldn't stand the pitiful and obvious longing in those eyes. Especially when he heard you scream or cry through your gag. Kabukimono's eyes would widen even more. Torn between wanting to help you, and also wanting to take you.

It was no mistake. Scaramouche knew this because even if he DID find you detestable at best, as far as human women went, you had quite a soft and sensual body that just BEGGED for someone to ravage it.

Scaramouche had considered setting it up many times in the past. Making it to where his subordinates distracted your annoying companions while he had his way with your pretty body secretly.

But he has fought those needless and lowly desires instead.

However seeing the lust in the eyes of Kabukimono, made him realize that perhaps, this attraction to you was something that he couldn't fight. Something that even his most inexperienced form was feeling whether he understood what it meant yet or not.

And if this was true, then Scaramouche would conquer these feelings too. He'd keep you as a fuck doll for himself and at the same time, show this annoying and pesky version of himself that HE was stronger.

And HE was in charge here.

Scaramouche walked over and after casting Kabukimono a withering look, he began to press his sandal against Kabukimono's shaft. Forcing his hardened cock to be uncomfortably crushed against the ground underneath Scaramouche's foot.

Kabukimono whimpered as tears began to leak from his eyes and his nipples hardened. He was aroused from the pain and Scaramouche couldn't help but feel nothing but disgust towards him for it.

"you want the girl huh?"

Kabukimono nodded quickly. His own gag stifled his voice as he groaned slightly at the sensation of Scaramouche putting more of his weight down on his dick.

"Too bad. You seriously think I would let YOU have her before ME? That I'd let you fuck her with this useless cock of yours that gets off from being crushed?"

Scaramouche chuckled wickedly. Seeing Kabukimono blush a little as he heard you cry out again. His eyes fixated on the dildo as it stretched you apart and kept you in such a lewd position with your juices coating the floor beneath you for all to see.

Scaramouche couldn't stand it.

He crouched down and grabbed hold of Kabukimono's cock. Roughly stroking it then to the pace of the toy penetrating you in front of him.

"you wish that was your cock fucking her right? Tearing her apart and making her cum?" Scaramouche taunted. Continuing to pull several soft moans from his former self as he continued to pump his own cock.

"Do you even know HOW to use this pathetic thing yet? I doubt it. That machine isn't even real and it's better than this thing between your legs."

Kabukimono's back arched a little as artificial semen suddenly squirted from his dick. Coating Scaramouche's hand. Scaramouche narrowed his eyes in disgust as he tried to shake the stuff off.

"pathetic. You actually ejaculated from that? Oh how pitiful I truly was." Scaramouche got to his feet and turned back to you. Your head had slumped back a little and tears leaked out from underneath your blindfold as another orgasm was ripped from your body. He watched you gasp and tremble as you remained helpless in your bondage. A sadistic gleam filling his indigo eyes as another idea suddenly came to him.

He knelt down again and reached out to tease your swollen clit a little as he spoke.

"get used to it doll. I could make it hurt worse. However, if you behave during the next game I have planned for you, I'll make you feel better than anyone else ever could ~" Scaramouche purred. His touch makes you squeal as you try to fight back another climax but fail miserably.

"so fragile. So many ways I could make you crumble and break. I wonder if...I could somehow make this part even more sensitive."

You feel him pinch your pleasure nub between your legs and you struggle to not pass out. What was this bastard planning next for you and his other self?

[azulhood]

Danny was never a human.

While not exactly.

He kid of was, and kind of wasn't.

And that's not including the half-dead thing.

So during the start of Jack and Maddie's ghost hunting careers they experimented with the magic side of the world.

Then they stumbled across the ways to make something not living, alive.

And they thought 'well, this kind of involves our research, right?' Cos turning something that never lived but gets life most be some type of ghost stuff.

So they hunt down ways to make their experiment happen, from ancient texts to modern how to guides.

They checked it all.

Once their research was done, they made the body how the instructions say, with a few adjustments.

The only problem they had was that all of the recipes involved magic of some kind and neither Jack or Maddie had magic (they tested it multiple times)

So it was clear they had to get magic somehow.

And they did by stealing a magicians DNA, which was on him because he should know how dangerous it was to just leave DNA around, to be fair he probably wasn't expecting mad scientists to knock him out and take a blood sample.

And so it was added to the mixture of clay, their own blood,and the tiniest bit of ectoplasm moulded into a humanoid shape.

And finally it was the hard part.

Bringing it to life.

They took a page out of Victor Frankenstein's book and waited for a lighting storm, or in their case, a modified defibrillator.

The electricity acted as a spark to kick-start the process.

The blood formed the organs, skin, hair, and etc.

The ectoplasm breathed life into the golem, a bit too much.

Because once it was over they had a bouncing baby boy with the bluest eyes ever.

After running every test imaginable with each test confirming that the kid was human, they decided 'whelp, Jazz has a little brother now' and promptly forgot about it.

There was more exciting research to do after all.

When Danny's accident death happened it was only due to the magicians magic/ messed up luck powers and the ectoplasm in him that he survived.

Years go by and then Danny found out from reading their old notes.

His parents brushed it off saying that, yes, he was human and they loved him no matter what.

But Danny was a bit shook.

Finding out that he only existed not because his parents wanted him, but because they wanted to see if they could create.

Was he actually human? He was made out of clay for frick's sake!

And Danny handle this bombshell with grace and- he ran.

He ran as far as he could as fast as he could.

And so alone in a strange city and not willing to go back, he decided to seek out the magician who was technically his third parent.

What's the worst that could happen?

So off he went to find John Constantine.

[jiminiecrickets]

MILK & TWO SUGARS. KTH / M!READER

summary. despite being your subordinate, taehyung relishes in his power over you.

wc. 4.9k

tags. boss/assistant au, dom top!reader, bottom!tae, tae films himself to tease you, oral (r. receiving), office/desk sex, unprotected sex, officemates-with-benefits (sort of)

[ requested ]

the train carriage rocks and rumbles, steel and electricity burning beneath your feet. you hover beside the moving join between carriages, counting down the number of stops until it reaches yours. aside from the not-so-inconspicuous journalist snapping pictures of you across the carriage, it has been a fairly smooth ride.

he's wearing a cap, staring down at the flip-out screen of his dslr, pointed just right in your direction. he's far enough away that the photos probably don't seem that creepy – not i-pretended-to-bump-into-you-for-this-picture creepy, at least – and he's not holding the camera low enough to angle your crotch as the focal point, which is more than you can say for some other journalists. sure, you may have had a wild youth, but you were square now – just a guy in a suit on his phone with a messenger bag strapped across your chest. the most interesting thing about you was the fact that a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers stuck out one end of your bag.

for all the other commuters knew, you were heading home to kiss your wife and your two-and-a-half kids. you would like to keep it that way, isolating yourself with earbuds playing a rotation of your favourite songs.

on your phone, your insanely efficient and ridiculously beautiful personal assistant has just stopped using capital letters and proper punctuation.

seriously where are you? your coffee's going cold :(

you huff. you told him to wait a while longer before grabbing it since you needed to stop by the florist, but he had always been strict about your schedule. if it wasn't on the document, it didn't exist.

a couple more stops to go, you reply, glancing out the windows to ensure you're not getting his hopes up. nine minutes.

can't you get here any faster?

no, taehyung. it's always going to be nine minutes.

despite his profile picture only being his initials – KT, matching at least four other people in your phone – he manages to inject a whole lot of personality into his next message.

then don't walk, desk jockey. what can i do to make you gallop? the bubble of three dots pops up. perhaps i can tempt you over with a carrot?

please stop it with the horse metaphors.

but you're the only one i wanna ride <3

you nearly choke on your saliva, hastily pressing your phone screen to your chest for privacy. you steel your nerves when your phone vibrates again, chasing away the heat crawling rapidly up your neck. you take a deep breath and glance down.

a video. you tap the play button and the window expands to take up your screen.

the first thing you notice is that taehyung's not wearing any pants. he's wearing everything but pants, and you even see a flash of his playful smirk as he tightens his tie when he glances down. he smooths it down, down his stomach, and leans back in a chair.

your chair.

holy shit. he's in your office.

he tucks one foot up onto the edge of your desk, polished pointed shoe pivoting as he makes himself comfortable. he rests on the point of his elbow, cradling his jaw with long slim fingers.

he wraps his slender fingers around his cock, revealing it from beneath the bottom of his crisp white dress shirt. only the bottom sliver of his face is visible, soft and shapely pink lips playing at innocence, tucked teasingly between his front teeth.

your music doesn't provide a buffer anymore. on instinct, you darken your screen and slam the mute button, thumb working at the phone's volume button in excess.

but, because you have terrible vices, you slowly edge the volume back up until his soft, breathy moans rattle in your skull like a marble inside a can of spray paint.

"hey, boss," he whispers, fingers rolling over his reddened tip, cock dark pink and shining in his grip. he plays at formality, straightening his jacket lapel with his free hand. his hand drops down to cup his bare thigh, golden and soft, and slides gently over his skin, back and forth – caressing himself the same way you do. he exhales softly, back arching. the chair's leather shifts audibly. "come grab your coffee, already. aren't you thirsty? i sure am."

dropping his leg, he pushes his shirt up around his chest, and lifts his phone above him with a sound between a hum and a moan. taehyung twists in your black leather chair, its tall slim shape highlighting the way he angles his hips to accentuate his waist and hips and the way his soft thighs fill up the seat of the chair.

you close your eyes for a steadying breath, shifting on the spot as the train pulls up to your station. thank goodness you had the epiphany to wear a dark suit today. it'd be a particularly awkward gossip piece for that journalist – yes, still there – if you'd worn something lighter.

"i'll be waiting, big boy," he coos directly into your ears, the breathiness in his voice and the flush to his cheeks letting you know just how long he's been in your chair.

he's going to be the death of you.

you weave your way through the station, hurrying down the stairs with your phone in a death grip, screen off. it pings when the pedestrian crossing lights turn green and your mouth goes dry at the sight of another video, described only by date and file type. you struggle to swallow.

on his knees, lovely round ass presented to the camera, taehyung pumps three fingers in and out of his slick hole, the shine of lube dripping down his thigh. his moans are quick and muffled by the palm over his mouth, his cheeks glowing pink with desire, and his hips jerk as he pulls his knees close together. his cock presses firmly along the seam of the back of his thighs.

hissing softly, he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop, lubricated until the knuckle. he glides his fingertips around his hole, showing himself off with a soft giggle, and rocks back on them until his cock twitches. it leaks as he fucks himself with them.

"ah...! get down here, already – my fingers aren't as thick as yours, baby. m-maybe i could still come on them, though," he moans slyly, the quick slick sound of his pumping fingers jolting shivers down your spine. "gonna fucking come on myself, come on your desk – every time you enter this office, you're gonna remember the way i made you feel." 

he moans with a toss of his head as his hand quickens. his leaking cock pulses and he bounces slightly on his fingers, that little bit of friction from his cock bumping his thighs almost enough.

"what is it... that you said?" he grins back at the camera, dark eyes smoky and devious. "only angels have bodies like mine? well... white was always heaven's colour."

his lips part as his dark brow furrows, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his hips tremble. his cock explodes with cum, spurting out in thick white ropes that splatter the backs of his thighs like the sweetest glaze. he spreads his jerking, trembling thighs, and his release slowly pools on the black leather between his knees. he pants softly, wordless.

in the silence of your earbuds, your head rings with the anticipation of your pounding heart, nearly sprinting the half-block down to the skyscraper with your last name printed on it. you push through the large glass doors carelessly – they're shatterproof, and they'll survive you shouldering your way through them.

on your phone, taehyung lets out a soft exhale that sinks claws into your brain. glossy white beads drip from the edge of your chair between his unblemished legs, and if that's not a scene of the divine, then you don't know what is.

shit. hastily, you pass the receptionists and slip into an empty elevator someone left behind. swiping your card, you punch the button for the highest floor, and survive the agonising seconds up, dumping your earbuds and phone unceremoniously into your bag.

the elevator dings, and you're shoving yourself through the tiniest gap the moment it appears with a problem in your pants and a problem at your desk.

lazily, taehyung grins, pink tongue swiping over his lips. one hand strokes his pretty cock under the desk, the motion of his arm perfectly clear.

"hey there, big boy," he purrs. "finally here for your coffee, right?"

you grunt noncommittedly, extracting the bouquet of flowers from your bag before dumping the bag on the loveseat by the elevator. you place it in a white vase and wiggle it back into place on the cute pigeonhole shelf.

you turn back to him, and he's standing now, leaning forward over your desk with that same silky smile. "done with playing uncaring? come over here, make me sorry. i've broken your rules, haven't i, boss?"

"you're a real piece of work," you growl, stalking towards him and yanking him away from your desk to survey the damage. time to put in a request for a new chair. you return your gaze to taehyung, who just smiles demurely at you and strokes the bulge in your trousers.

"a piece of art, don't you like telling me?" he teases, nudging your cock with his knuckles. his smile widens as your breath skips like a record player. he pushes you towards the end of your oak desk. "you liked my presents, did you?"

"presents? that was torture," you rumble, placing your hand on top of his head and fisting a handful of his hair. you tug firmly backwards and his eyes roll back briefly as he moans, hands faltering for just a moment as he fiddles with your fly – you smirk at the sight.

his lashes flutter as he regains control, pupils dilating as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. "but you liked them, right, sir?" he asks softly, almost nervously. he fishes your cock out and his breath hitches, his lower lip tugged between his teeth as he stares up at it.

"is the sky blue, dove?" you ask, softening your voice just for him. he melts like chocolate, pressing himself sweetly into you, and you let go of his hair to card it back from his large dark eyes, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "but i won't say it didn't surprise me. i was on the train."

"your fault when you have a perfectly good car in the garage, sir," he says with a hum, and he kisses the base of your cock. he lifts your hand back to his hair and you guide his head towards the head of your shaft. with a soft moan, he's all yours again to eat and enjoy, those dark brown eyes almost gold in the late afternoon sun.

"i'll let that sass slide because you're usually such a sweet boy," you say softly, humming as he drags his warm tongue over the ridge of your tip. "good. suck."

he loves the way you talk to him with that voice – a voice like chocolate, sweet and thick and dark. he bobs his head, stroking what he can't fit, and he moans when you hit the back of his throat, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. he works at your cock, tongue lapping at the veins, tracing them to your tip and back, and closes his lips around your shaft, gradually getting all of it down his throat.

he clasps your thighs, letting himself enjoy the heft and heat of your cock filling his throat, and his eyes slide closed, the tip of his nose brushing your pelvis. you exhale softly and pat his hair to watch it bounce back into place, tugging the loose beach curls between two fingers and letting them spring back. it's incredibly soft and silky for someone who's dyed his entire head honey blond for at least as long as he's been working for you.

you cup his cheek as he bobs his head, warm tight throat swallowing your cock, constantly squeezing and fluttering, and your hand shifts to his chin, fingers pressed against the bend of his throat where it meets his jaw. gliding your fingers lower, you can feel your cock sliding against the walls of his throat. when he pulls back until just the heavy tip rests on his tongue, you feel with reverence the way he swallows it down, following the movement of the tip of your cock with each finger it passes.

below, you watch in amusement as he jerks himself off, motions quick and shallow but involving the motion of his whole arm from the shoulder. he moans as he swallows your cock, and your head falls back as your cock throbs from the tight vibrations.

"fuck, taehyung, good boy," you groan, listening to him choke and gag on it as if he couldn't get enough. saliva coats your dick, and it drips down his chin. his parted lips allow him to moan and when he closes his lips around it, he redefines the word 'suck'.

his cheeks hollow, his eyes roll back, and he's so warm and wet around you that your control snaps and you yank his head forward, burying your cock deep in him. he whimpers so perfectly when he feels your cum sliding down his throat, swallowing rapidly. his lashes flutter as he pushes himself deeper and his lips press against your base, making you grunt sharply, fingers tightening in his hair.

even when your grip loosens, your uneven breaths steadying, taehyung keeps you in his mouth, feeling his own hot cum drip down his twitching cock. he doesn't stroke himself, doesn't pull away – just contents himself during the aftermath of his high with keeping his mouth full, blinking slowly like a cat at the hazy middle-distance.

you have to slide him off your cock and he protests, whimpering softly as his nails dig into your thigh. you wrap a hand around yourself, pumping it slowly, and taehyung stares on yearningly, licking his lips subconsciously when a bead of cum slides down your tip.

"do i need to look at what you've done," you ask, though your voice remains steady at the end like a statement. "pretty thing, we are in my office. that means no messes."

"doesn't feel as good as when you're in me," he rasps, leaning up and kissing the base of your cock. "please, baby? promise i'll clean up later."

"you can't always get your way through flattery," you chuckle as he stands, tilting and falling against you as if he belongs there, wrapped in your arms. one hand travels further down and cups his ass, squeezing the supple warmth of it. he moans airily.

"it's worked so far," he whispers. "go sit down, big boy. gonna ride you like you deserve."

"what, you're going to tease this gorgeous little ass and i'm not allowed to have a taste?" you tease, and taehyung grins, pressing chest-to-chest with you. "you're a cruel man."

he smiles, still panting softly, and presses his lips to the line of your jaw. "maybe later," he murmurs. "will you clean me up and take care of me afterwards?"

"depends on my mood, pretty," you hum, guided over to your seat and watching as he sets himself atop your lap. you squeeze his thighs, sitting up against his back.

"you're a chivalrous man, boss. you wouldn't force me to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg," he chuckles, placing his ass over your cock and grinding against it. he grips the armrest and turns his head over his shoulder to kiss you, the other hand coming up to grip your hair. "mm – fuck me already. wanna feel your cock fill me up like a whore – been waiting for ages to get you alone for this."

"you could always call me outside of work, you know?"

"but where's the fun in that?" he teases, and sinks down on your cock with a breathy relieved moan that makes you shiver.

holy fuck. he's so damn warm, so wet. for a moment your thoughts fizzle out into pleasant static shooting down your spine and out to your fingers and toes. just being with him, close to him, enveloped by his faint blue cologne, makes heaven an afterthought.

when you come to and open your eyes – despite not remembering closing them – you are met with taehyung's soft smoky gaze, his warm palm cupping your cheek. he smiles, breathless, as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing your foreheads together. "you're handsome when you come."

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you frown slightly, shifting your hands higher on his thighs. no, you are most certainly still hard. "wishful thinking, much?"

"no, that was better than watching you come." he nuzzles into your cheek and jaw, then presses your foreheads together again with a soft roll of his hips. the action has you gasping and he slots his mouth against yours, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to slip his tongue between your teeth.

knowing he, your quiet, pretty little secretary, is the one to bring you down from your pedestal, fills him with insurmountable pride. smugness, too – a healthy dose of it. after all, the media made you into the country's most eligible bachelor, and still here you were, leaning into his touch like a soft college boyfriend. you've spent every waking moment since you turned eighteen having columnists nipping at your heels and biting into your clothes, your friends, your love life, and anything else they can twist into drama or some moral fault with you. he knows how high your walls are because of it and the fact that you decided to give him a chance, to let him help you, despite looking like every one of the scandalmongers who've ever hurt you, makes him proud.

you'd never truly lost that pureness about you, that faith in people's goodness that most lose the first time they're betrayed by those they love. that is a very hard thing to do when so many close to you have had some dark immortal want to leech out of you.

taehyung's getting ahead of himself. he can start thinking such things when you start calling him your boyfriend.

"i missed you," he whispers, breath hitching as the ridge of your cockhead catches on his rim. he reaches behind himself, guiding himself onto your dick, and his fingernails dig into your shoulder as he throws his head back with a breathless moan.

"yeah?" you murmur, because you can't ever stay upset at taehyung. "it's only been a few hours. fuck. mm – couldn't have known. maybe you should've sent me a few more videos of yourself."

he tries to gasp in offence, but it comes out too breathy, too pleased. he bounces on your lap with his creamy thighs bracketing yours. "pig. why do you want videos when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"so i can remember you on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms."

he scoffs, chuckling softly as he circles his hips, making you groan and tighten your grip on him. he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. "give me a promotion, big boy. then your nights won't have to be so lonely."

"you and your silver tongue," you murmur, placing your hands on the curve of his ass, the tiny dip of flesh at the base of his spine. he arches into your touch with a soft sigh, clenching around you and enveloping you in his velvety heat.

"mhm. you know what my tongue can do," he teases, content to fill himself up with you and do nothing else for the rest of the day. he could sit here, pretty as a princess, for the rest of his life and he'd have no qualms about it.

you, however, have different ideas.

you hook your arms under his thighs and rise to your feet, swiping pens and papers clear of your desk and onto the floor with a clatter – he laughs – and you set him down on your desk, kissing his jaw and neck. you nip at his earlobe and he growls in warning playfully, yanking your hair to bring your throat closer to him. he sucks a hickey onto the sensitive skin, the sting giving way to pleasure far too easily.

he spreads his knees and leans back, grabbing your cock with one hand and bracing against the desk with the other, and slips you back inside him with a long moan of bliss. "y-you're so big..."

"don't stroke my ego," you chuckle, stroking his soft, smooth hips and thighs as you thrust hilt-deep into him, easier now that he's adjusted. "god knows it's big enough as it is."

"of course i have to. you're the – the top man." his breath hitches as your cock glides against his swollen prostate, dragging against it roughly with how tightly he's stretched around you. he swears he can follow the line of the veins when it rides against his gummy walls with a harsh thrust. "oh, fuck! baby!"

"that feel good, hm?" you murmur into his ear, the sweet decadence of it rolling over his brain like waves over the shore.

"yes," he moans, eyes rolling back as you press into him, a single shift of the angle of your hips enough to make his back arch and his mouth fall open. "yes, yes! ah, f-fuck, right there – right there, harder, don't stop..."

you know his body like the back of your hand. gripping his thighs until they dimple under your fingertips, you pull out until just the tip rests against his hole. with a snap of your hips, you bury yourself deep in his warmth, making him jerk and cry out. his cock spurts prematurely and he gnaws on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut to will down his budding high. his nails dig into your shoulders.

"i told you," he pants, glistening eyes raising to meet yours. "harder."

what your secretary wants, he gets.

your cock slams directly into his prostate and he gasps, whimpering softly as you set a quick, hungry pace. still unsatisfied, you push your mouth against his, tongue dipping between his lips to taste his coffee.

milk, two sugars.

he always had a sweet tooth.

his damp hair sticks to his temples, the perfect salon waves bouncing rapidly with each smack of your hips against his ass. he moans into your mouth as his cock jerks, swollen and heavy against his slim stomach. it bounces with each powerful thrust and he cries out, the sweet sound echoing in your office for anyone to hear.

he whines softly, a softer sound than he'd ever let anyone else hear. he claws at your shoulders and sides, panting against your lips and submitting to your demanding kisses with messy clouded lust. the slap of skin on skin only arouses him further and he grabs your tie in a white-knuckled grip, tugging your mouth down against his the moment it parts for air.

"close," he whimpers into the kiss, and his eyes flutter back into his skull as your cock punches the breath out of his lungs, fucking him faster, harder, deeper. he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, as you sweep his hair out of his eyes, combing it back gently with your fingers.

you tug. he comes.

his velvety searing heat swallows you whole, animal in its hunger, and he digs his heels into your lower back, forcing your cock deeper in him until you have no choice but to follow him over the precipice, crashing over it like blue waves over white rock. his pleasure is engulfing, almost stifling despite his tenderness. he curls into your grasp, panting and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and his hot, shuddering breath stirs against the fine skin of your collarbone.

when your hips slow to give him a moment of respite – surely he'd want one, you thought, barely able to eke out a gasp of your name – he instead takes the chance to chastise you.

"couldn't you have... finished... any faster?" he huffs, his chest heaving as he gulps down air between words. "you've a meeting in five minutes."

with your thoughts still lingering on the image of taehyung's bliss and the clandestine knowledge that he'd made a mess on your desk, you take a moment to respond. when you do, you're incredulous.

"wait, are you trying to keep me on schedule? now?"

"it's... it's office hours. i still have to do my job." he rolls his eyes, as if you aren't balls-deep inside of him. you remind him with a few shallow, gentle thrusts – he sucks in a shaky breath and tips his head back with a shake to let his bangs fall more comfortably over his forehead. "lord knows you're not the one keeping an eye on your timetable."

"we can talk about that later, and just reschedule that damn meeting. they'll wait for me." you press your lips to the dip just beneath his ear and he hums, lazily content. then, as if remembering that he has to play bad cop and not laze in the comfort of your touch, his eyes flutter open and his mouth thins into a straight line.

"you're making a bad habit out of this," he argues. there he is – your fiery assistant. if you looked at him now, you'd never know he'd just been making dirty videos with sultry smiles.

"the best kind of habit," you murmur, shifting your hips. his breath hitches and his grip tightens involuntarily on your shoulder, making you smirk. "don't worry, taehyung. i'll give you the rest of the day off. you need one – at least today because of me."

his frown deepens at your cheeky comment, even though his cheeks flush. "i don't take days off."

"you always say that, but what are you doing right now? working hard or hardly working?" you tease, sliding your hands up his thighs and hips.

"it's – different," he manages to gasp out, clicking his tongue when your nails drag over the veins of his messy cock. "stop that. you have a meeting, remember?"

you draw your hand back. "i was working when you sent me those videos. i seem to recall you were, too. this feels unfair."

"unfair?" he repeats. "you liked them. you always like them." he pauses. "don't you?"

"i'm not sure the other people on the train appreciate your beauty as much as i do." you kiss him and he hums, accepting your tongue into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. "don't stop sending your videos."

"is that an order, big boy?" he whispers.

"yes, it is," you reply, and he smiles, brief and sweet. you pull out of him gently, rubbing the join between his hip and thigh soothingly as he moans softly through bitten lips. "now, you have an email to write. that meeting won't postpone itself."

he huffs, allowing you to help him down from your desk. he turns around, leaning over it to grab his laptop from the corner, and you press yourself into his back and ass, teasing your cock against his hole. the coffee he grabbed for you sits cold on the edge of your desk next to the pen holder.

"tell me what the email says," you murmur into his neck, caressing his stomach with one hand and teasing his nipples with the other.

taehyung's breath shudders as he nods, opening up the calendar and shifting the meeting to three days later. moving it a few hours means you look sloppy with your time management, and so does one day. three days looks like a choice – like you have better things to do with your time. these men don't have anyone else to go to, so they'll wait for you no matter what.

"your conference with mr ln has been moved to thursday, august twenty-first. please see attached—" he closes his eyes as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. "p-please see attached a link to your updated appointment."

you shrug, peppering kisses over the freckles of his neck and shoulder. "good enough. send it."

he clicks send and closes his laptop, pushing it away as you lift him into your arms. he gasps and wraps his limbs around you, holding tight as you move him to the couch on the other side of the room. you hover over him as he pants softly, staring up at you with dark eyes and plump red lips.

"by the way, i've received message that your suit's been delivered to your home," you say with a soft smile. "you're going to outshine everyone at that stupid awards ceremony."

"you say that as if you won't like seeing me in it. you can fuck me in it in the car afterwards. you bought it, after all." his eyes glint dangerously. "maybe i'll wear a surprise under it – to celebrate your successes, of course."

you grin, filthy and boyish, and taehyung's heart flutters. "you've just made me very excited for that day. come grab coffee with me after work – we can test how much space i have in my backseat."

[earlycuntsets]

english translation:

pg 1. "VISIONS

MUSIC FROM PASSION

www.visions.de

Gerard Way

and the fight against one's own image"

pg 2.

"Double attempt

my chemical rumanre

It is the story of an album that never became one and a band that is fighting against its external image: My Chemical Romance reinvent themselves as a pop art band, as futuristic Mad Maxes with funky laser guns in a universe of quotes, cross-references and broken meta levels. The end result is Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys - a record that would not exist in this form if My Chemical Romance had not failed at the first attempt.

TEXT: JAN SCHWARZKAMP

PHOTOS: SEBASTIAN ARTZ"

pg 3. " A new My Chem song with rough edges was Black Dragon Fighting Society, a hardcore hit in the Misfits style that suited the band perfectly. That's right: "was" and "stood". Because that too is now buried in the archives. "Some people will probably hate me for saying something like that, but: The song is more punk than punk. Nobody expected us of all people to record a song like that. The song was deliberately not meant to be longer than a minute and a half, because only the best songs are that short, if you think of Minor Threat alone." At this point, Gerard has no idea that he is about to make a new start and that Black Dragon Fighting Society will not survive. But there is something that will point the way for the future. A comic. "I'm currently working on a project called The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, which will be completely different to anything you've ever seen from me before. It will be my first adult comic, extremely violent. Imagine it as a sci-fi lo-fi punk odyssey, full of references to the Ramones and with a lot of laser-creaking." The stuff you can knit an album out of, as we will see.

SECOND ATTEMPT

End of September 2010, ten months later. A trailer for the new My Chem album has been circulating online for three days. Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys is what it is called. The trailer shows the four protagonists: Gerard, Mikey and the two guitarists Frank Iero and Ray Toro. No sign of black parade uniforms, but My Chemical Romance now look like four Tank Girls, reinforced by a sissy rollerboy. There is also action à la Mad Max vs. Power Rangers, a bit of 70s road movie flair in the style of Vanishing Point and the crude, grainy look of grindhouse cinema. The band's reinvention is complete. The light-shy moth has turned into a bright butterfly that fires laser beams.

My Chemical Romance - minus Frank, who is looking after his newborn twins - have been answering journalists' questions since the early hours of the morning. The most luxurious place to do this is the legendary Sunset Marquis rock star hangout in West Hollywood. Let's start where we left off the recording device ten months ago: with the comic, which has now become an album. "Yes, the comic is about exactly the same topics that are also found on the album," confirms Gerard. "The nice thing about the album is that there is no overarching story, it has no concept whatsoever." Gerard, now with red hair and a healthier complexion, is sitting on a couch again, this time without a cigarette. Ray and Mikey support him. Or not. Because if anyone has anything to say here, it's only Gerard.

No concept, then. But soon a comic and finally the corresponding album. On the record we meet the DJ called Dr. Death Defying

From black and long to blonde and short to black and the parade moved on. The new costumes are colorful, the record is not as grim as the last ones. "The new record is the most important thing. The last video we had I had this color palette of red.[makeup]"

FACE

With make-up and goth outfits, Gerard looked for a while like the illegitimate son of Robert Smith and Tim Burton, with his hair tied back. In that respect, My Chemical Romance only had themselves to blame for being perceived by some as a dark puppet show. At least you have to give them credit for being early on in this. "We did what we did, regardless of what others thought of it. When the whole thing became popular, we stopped it because we were simply done with the style. After all, our aim with The Black Parade was not to put on a cabaret show, but rather an expansive, theatrical death rock show."

HANDS

Gerard doesn't play an instrument, even though he's a guitarist. He takes care of the lyrics and conceptual ideas. Armed with a notebook, sketchpad and laptop, he works on his comics mainly on tour. "That works best. I sit in front of my computer and write scripts. I get the most done on the road because I have a lot of free time. And then there are the nights. So what do I do after a show? I write until two in the morning."

FEET

At concerts, Gerard walks a few hundred meters. No instrument ties him to one place. He is one of my absolute favorite front men," says brother Mikey. He is General Patton, that is his role. He is also so intelligent and eloquent. Having a brother in the band makes a lot of things easier. We would hang out together even if we didn't play in a band together."

HAIR

long. And now: red. The gloom has gone, the black look is sunny, the music - brighter. "The lyrics of the new songs on The Black Parade are so dark that I wrote them. The opposite." One change that the band turned to was that of teenagers. They were already fed up with black and white."

COMPLEXION

You can't tell from the photo, but the California sun is rubbing off on Way's new home. Gerard looks like he's just come back from a beach holiday. "I'm quite happy about that. There's no reason for me to stay pale," he says. Brother Mikey adds: "29 years of pale skin is enough."

T-SHIRT

"It has no political meaning. The American flag is used all the time anyway." In the interview, Way is wearing Chucks with the Stars Spangled Banner. We'll probably have to ask ourselves that question more often in the near future. The record is clearly not political, and neither is the look. We're just using it - a flag is like a tribal, you mark your territory with it. Our corporate identity, the symbol with the spider, is also such a powerful, universally applicable symbol."

PANTS & JACKET

The look changed: Gerard and the band won't be appearing on stage in simple denim outfits any time soon. "We wore marching band uniforms for three or four years," says Mikey. When we came back from the Black Parade tour, we had to redefine our lives and deconstruct ourselves. We wanted to drop everything and see what was left. Killjoys is the result of that - as if we were rebelling against The Black Parade, taking a stand against our own last album. A trailer shows the band as colorful end-time punks with laser pistols and Pontiac Trans Ams. Fans are already sending us photos, inventing color concepts for their Killjoy gangs and making their own weapons." "Sure, there have been things like that before," says Gerard, but what band offers that today? It's like a new Star Wars movie coming out. Nobody knows exactly who this Darth Maul is yet, but people are already dressing up like him. "Last time, our fans designed their own uniforms. This Killjoys thing is a bit more personal because it leaves more room for interpretation. The kids aren't dressing up like us anymore, they're creating their own characters."

pg 4. "Dr. Death. He delivers the intro, reads a traffic report and hosts the spectacle. There is a trailer for the record and now also a music video for the single Na Na Na, which is about our heroes and their new alter egos Party Poison (Gerard), Kid Cobra (Mikey), Fun Ghoul (Frank) and Jet Star (Ray). That's not a concept? "Well, yes, it is. But what it is supposed to be above all is a big pop art experiment. As it progresses, the fans and we will add more and more to the story. For the comic itself, my co-author and I already have precise ideas about what will happen. But we could also still question everything. If we shoot scenes in the desert, for example, they will dictate what the comic will look like." Aha. Let's wait and see instead of going into too much detail. Otherwise we'll get tangled up like in the confusing universe of Coheed And Cambria.

When we met last year, there were seven songs to listen to, none of which made it onto the album, or at most in a heavily modified form. What happened?

"When we met, we were mixing. Ray was at home with family things. Frank and I were trying to make the album sound the way we wanted it to. But it didn't work. Since I'm only the lyricist, I couldn't explain in musical terms what sounded wrong to me. Anyway, we had to approach it from scratch and talk to our producer Rob Cavallo about how we could do it. I had a song called Na Na Na that I had written in the desert. While we were still working on the old recordings, I said: let's record this song. We went into the studio and within one night the thing was done. That's when we realized that we had to rebuild the entire album from scratch, including the songs that we had already finished."

Last time you said that the new album would be a reaction to how you are perceived as a band. What is the situation now?

"It can't be about what anyone thinks of what you do. It's about doing it for yourself. That would be the worst thing: making music for the people who

not like you just so they like you. Should I be a bit tougher? Or more punk somehow? Will you like me then? Nah, not with me. That was also my biggest beef with the last recordings. They were good, but not outstanding. And if I had any complaints about them, it was the feeling that I had accommodated other people's views too much. We wanted to assert ourselves as a rock band. We only managed that with Killjoys."

The days of The Black Parade, the big gestures and all the pomp, definitely seem to be over. Looking back, did you lay it on too thick?

"Yes and no. It was an extremely ambitious album. I wouldn't say it was too hard-working, because we didn't try too hard. But we put a lot of work into it. We had to use a certain arrogance for the album. A lot of people thought at the time that we were a flash in the pan. We had released a hit album and were now going to go under with the emo hype. So we exaggerated everything, a defiant reaction. Even though it wasn't fun at times, we were constantly laughing because we felt kind of stupid doing it. With Killjoys we may not have laughed as much - but we had more fun."

THE WATCHMEN

The last sign of life from the band before Killjoys was the Bob Dylan cover Desolation Row on the soundtrack to the graphic novel adaptation The Watchmen. The video for the song was directed by Zach Snyder. "For free," Gerard marvels to this day. "Zach was so in love with his own film that he was still re-shooting scenes even though he had already finished it. This included the video for our song, which was obviously very important to him. He wanted to know what I thought about it. I told him that our cover version should sound like the Jim Carroll song People Who Died - like a big, loud 'Fuck you!', the film is one too." Snyder chose My Chem because he knew that Gerard is a comic book author and that his The Umbrella Academy, like The Watchmen, won an Eisner Award.

GRANT MORRISON

Morrison plays the bald villain in the Killjoys trailer. He's a comic book writer like me and my personal hero. We've been friends since The Black Parade. Greg is one of the most respected artists in the comics world, alongside Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman. He wrote his own character from the trailer and designed the costume himself.

COMICS FOR YOU

The second part of The Umbrella Academy, called Dallas, has just been published in German translation by Cross Cult Verlag and has already won Gerard and illustrator Gabriel Bá the Eisner Award. We are giving away three copies of the hardback piece of bloody pop culture. Write an email with the subject "Dallas" to verlosung@visions.de. The deadline for entries is November 19th.

11/2010 visions magazine

[ripplestitchskein]

I find the general idea of Stolitz being “toxic” to be fucking hilarious. It’s thrown around so easily like it should be accepted that they fit this definition and….they really, really don’t lol. Like they have a pretty chill and common miscommunication and personal issues interfering with wants and desires conflict. Like I cannot stress how fucking chill it is. They don’t actively hurt one another intentionally, neither are trying to murder the other directly or indirectly, they are not on opposing sides of a larger external conflict save for inherent world class dynamics, they don’t manipulate each other or work against each other, etc. They say hurtful things and argue and are oblivious to the other’s issues but like, in a fairly normal neurodivergence and historical trauma driven way.

They do begin with a mutually agreed upon transactional sexual dynamic, which is often the crux of these “Stolitz is soooo toxic” arguments to the point the really intense anti’s cry SA. A transactional sexual dynamic Blitz was so okay with when it is no longer agreeable to the other party, and they communicate that and change the parameters in a way that gives him full autonomy, he spends half an episode trying to return to that dynamic. Much trauma. Very coerced. 🙄

There is a power imbalance but it only exists in the sense that one person is societally more powerful by nature of his birth and ignorant to it by nature of his upbringing. Stolas does not force Blitz into said transactional sex dynamic by exerting his power or influence so it’s largely irrelevant save for how it impacts Blitz’s personal self worth issues and it is never from a place of malicious intent. Which is what matters in media? Character intent and decisions are literally the crux of the narrative?? Stolas figures out it’s a problem for the type of relationship he really wants to have and corrects it and even goes above and beyond to ensure that Blitz will suffer no fall out from his choice if he decides to not pursue their romantic relationship further. Like, toxic WHOMST? Just, don’t talk to me about toxic until they get hot and bothered about how well the other tried to actively murder them. We have had zero poisonings or major betrayals in this ship and ya’ll throwing around toxic like words have no meaning.

“But he called Blitz his impish little plaything! He thinks of Blitz as a toy! As a sub-species!” Or maybe, just maaaaybe the sexually inexperienced character who is making shit up as he goes along based on his canonically identified incorrect perceptions of what the other wants/likes as well as ignorance of his own power and position thought he was just being sexy and cute? Just maybe? Like can we apply a smidgeon of deductive reasoning based on the sum rather than the parts? As a treat.

It just speaks to what I have observed as probable immaturity/lack of life experience driving a lot of the criticism or straight up vitriol regarding the show’s major conflicts. A very black and white application of moral purity that deems anything not rainbows and sunshine as toxic and where the ultimate goal is some nebulous and frankly hella ableist concept of “healthy”.

A similar thing plays out with regards to Octavia and the classification of Stolas as a “bad parent” because he is pursuing a relationship and has issues of his own to deal with on top of parenting. Heaven forbid a closeted gay man raised in isolation going through some late in life awakenings is not perfectly navigating an ill defined relationship and a divorce and raising a child on top of his myriad of mental health issues. What gets me the most is she’s not even a young child, she’s 17 possibly even 18 at this point in the timeline but the way people act he abandoned an infant at a flophouse to get his rocks off with someone who fears he will smite them down with his incredible Goetian might and if they refuse they’ll be living out of a gutter eating dirt because they wouldn’t perform sexually for him. Instead of the in-universe reality where the most egregious thing Stolas has done is fail to consider his daughters perspective and how this impacts her, made some inappropriate sexual comments really early on in front of her when he was still excited, and forgot, during a major life upheaval, a promise to watch a meteor shower he made to her like a decade ago. He didn’t even forget the promise itself, he just forgot what day it was. Like I forget shit I promised my kids last week much less when they were like 5.

Like there is such a huge disconnect between actual toxic behavior portrayals in media with regards to relationships and parenting, or hell toxic relationships and parents in real life, and what is going on in Helluva Boss. This is ignoring the fact that the actual universe of the show, which is what should be the metric when examining character dynamics not reality, has established real toxicity in both relationships and behavior, and has shown us time and time again how that toxicity contrasts with our characters and their relationships, be it Stolitz or Fizzmodeous or Moxxie/Millie or the parenting dynamics of Blitz & Loona and Stolas & Octavia. We have examples of toxic relationships, and we have examples of toxic parents in this world and we’ve been shown that the relationships of the main characters is in opposition to them.

But even if you were to take the, imo incorrect, position of applying real world considerations to fictional worlds it still doesn’t track as toxic.

Do you realize how many sexual transactions and power imbalances occur in relationships everyday as just a matter of course?

Like “I’ll wear that outfit you like if you do this for me?” Normal, Transactional. Accepted straight couple in a sitcom premise. I would wager “I’ll preform this sex act if you do X” is said in one way or another without anyone batting an eye a hundred times a day. And that’s ignoring the implication that transactional sex is inherently problematic. It isn’t, it’s the coercive aspect that is an issue and even then we get real handwavey about it in reality when the situation isn’t explicitly coercive.

“I’m a police officer/government agent/politician/media influencer/sole household income earner that has the ability to fuck up your entire life/reputation/financial stability just by nature of my job and how well we are getting along” is perfectly fine and normal. No one would suggest that a police office or government agent can only be involved with someone of equal systemic or social power in reality. Do my partner and I have a toxic power imbalance because I am the sole working person in our household and they are a stay at home parent and I hold all the financial power? No, that’s fucking silly.

Not to be all “sweet summer children I grew up in the trenches of toxic” about it but it’s the most baffling part of this fandom that a pretty low key conflict and relationship dynamic, where neither party is actively trying to hurt the other and has approached the entire thing from a place of earnest confusion and ignorance and is working through it in a pretty normal way is classified as “toxic”. Get back to me when they are poisoning each other, have killed several of each other’s loved ones and there is necromancy involved.

[tossawary]

You know, given all of the cloning and other evil experiments that Palpatine apparently had going on, it's a little remarkable in hindsight that he never targeted Shmi Skywalker personally.

Like, this woman apparently reproduced asexually and gave birth to one of the most powerful Force-sensitives of all time; I don't generally characterize Sith Lords as having great scientific curiosity or a sense of wonder for the universe (or bothering to remember "little" people exist most of the time), because their whole deal kind of precludes that, but it seems reasonable that one might conclude that there's potential power in investigating this.

If Anakin was friendly with Palpatine for the latter half of his childhood, it seems like it could have been relatively easy for Palpatine to learn things like 1) Anakin's midichlorian count (which he can use to tell Anakin that everyone else is just jealous of his power) and 2) Shmi's situation on Tatooine (which he can use to foster resentment between Anakin and the Jedi Order for not helping Shmi too). Just get Anakin a little frustrated and he'll probably start talking! Palpatine could make some concerned offer to send someone to check on Anakin's mother - it is the least that Naboo can do for the family that helped to save them, the Chancellor might say, but he would prefer that such favoritism remain a secret between them - and then Sidious would have Watto's exact address no problem.

And it's not like it would be hard to kidnap Shmi. Palpatine (as Sidious?) could pick some random bounty hunter and order them to go buy her, because this amount of money is presumably pocket change to him, and if Watto resists selling her off to a stranger, the bounty hunter can claim that they've come on behalf of her son. And if that doesn't work or if Shmi is already with the Lars family, there's always violence. Palpatine can just lie to Anakin and say that his agent discovered Shmi was targeted by enemies of the Jedi Order. Oh, what a shame they didn't protect her!

I don't know what would happen from here. Sidious could potentially contract the Kaminoans as a private, anonymous citizen to research Shmi and see if she'll be useful to him at all; the Kaminoans seem to be in the business of designer babies for specific clients (Jango + my vague memories of some "Clone Wars" comic). Which means that Shmi could be unhappily, awkwardly hanging around Kamino, probably still enslaved, when Jango Fett and the clones business is going on. For years, potentially.

Ideally for the Sith, the Kaminoans would be keeping Shmi in an entirely separate facility most of the time, away from the army intended for the Jedi and the Republic. But Jango might be sent around the planet on errands or something and the Kaminoans might need to use very specific equipment at some points, and I am a fan of grand plans being ruined by chance encounters or workplace logistics, so I think it would be fun if Shmi met Jango or Boba. Maybe Palpatine assumed that the Kaminoans had already disposed of Shmi or were keeping her on ice, due to a badly worded email or something else mundane, because the Kaminoan forgot the right Basic word (it's not their first language!!! or a translator malfunctioned or something) during their space phone call.

There's lots of Canon Divergence directions for this, like more serious angst or drama or thriller horror being imprisoned by a Sith Lord (somewhere besides Kamino) or discovering what's being done to the clones. Shmi could end up being rescued by Jedi and helping uncover Sidious. Or she could have a different tragic ending.

(This whole post regarding Shmi and cloning is partially inspired by that one post pointing out that Rey looks a lot like Shmi, and given the strange circumstances of Anakin's birth, any attempt to clone Anakin might have created a clone of Shmi instead. I still think a "Rey as Anakin's clone" is a fun sequel trilogy AU.)

I'm leaning towards fix-it and comedies of errors ideas because the prequels are tragic enough for me. Currently, I'm thinking about Shmi eventually ending up as part of young Boba Fett's gang somehow, because it's amusing to me that he was somehow a recurring antagonistic figure on that TCW show despite being a child. The other bounty hunters are like, "Kid, did you... bring your mom on this mission...?" And Boba Fett is like, "No!!! She's my ship mechanic!!! But if you touch her, just so you know, I will fucking kill you."

I think that both Anakin and Boba would fucking hate being adoptive brothers in any way, shape, or form. And the idea of Luke and Leia someday having an "Uncle Boba Fett" is also very funny to me.

(EDIT: I'm currently dubious regarding a Jango/Shmi ship because Jango does participate in the creation and enslavement of the clone army. Like, it's the Kaminoans who do it, they hold most of the blame and they would have gotten someone else if Jango hadn't done it, but Jango is very much there and at the very least complicit in a horrifying series of crimes against millions of people. Depending on how you characterize Shmi Skywalker, an enslaved woman, I don't really think she'd be cool with that. She let her child go off to become a Jedi because she thought it would be a much better life for him, while Jango sold his own "children" off into war for money. So, I'm currently thinking that Shmi might like the innocent child Boba, but she might honestly dislike Jango quite a lot.)

[hopeless-avo]

AU | SY Transmigrates as Someone Else | WQW Edition

ヾ⁠(⁠*⁠’⁠Ｏ⁠’⁠*⁠)⁠/~

In this world, when attempting to transfer SY into SQQ, the system glitches.

This glitch happens as the ‘SQQ villain’ role is still occupied, meaning SQQ would have still been present in his body, probably being able to counteract/treat the Qi deviation when it started, as he had some magical herb or another that he had on him due to his previous occurrences and history of bad deviations, so he survives.

SY is just there in the system’s waiting room, watching this screen and text glitch out.

He questions this malfunctioning system on wtf it wants him to do /who he would have become, cause come on, obviously he was gonna be isekai’ed and has suspicions on where he would be going as of what he was going off about and the voices he heard before he expired.

He chooses to shelve his panic and grief for later when he has time to process and mourn once he removes himself from whatever the fuck this situation is, cause like duh, he is dead he’ll never see his family againohmygod-

Anyways, he finds out that he would have been placed in SQQ’s body and nope what the hell do you want me to die?!?! and tries to see if he could be anyone else, ‘cause like come on, it’s PIDW!

He wants to at least be able to see all the cool flora and fauna if he has no choice of what world he will be living in, and although living as a woman may mean he gets to live longer, there is the threat of the heavenly pillar and the sudden transition of living as a man to a woman would be just too jarring.

So! After the system sorta relents at seeing that this guy is giving it another way to operate as well as saving its ass from being taken to see its higher-ups, it gives a list of potential other people that he can become that sorta has similar power and potential to affect the plot as being SQQ would have granted, although never as much given SQQ’s natural predisposition.

SY gets given the choice of LQG, QQQ, The Old Palace Master, Gongyi Xiao, and a few others.

Given his desire of wanting to live a relatively alive existence, he forgoes the more plot-present characters, such as Gongyi Xiao and The Old Palace Master, as well as LQG (cause he does not want to get shanked by SQQ, please and thank you), and due to previous arguments and reasons, he forgoes QQQ.

He looks over the remaining names and sees WQW, a character that doesn’t actually appear or get mentioned much in PIDW, is known to be the peak lord of the sword-forging peak, has massive muscles and has literally, like, one line when LBH got sent over and picked up Zheng Yang.

Additionally, the guy owns that sword that can tell if someone is possessed, so he would only have to stay away from the thing if the system doesn’t ensure that he can’t be ousted as such.

With this, SY as WQW would be living his best life as this guy bc he can fly on his sword all day and stay away from the plot while planning his escape when Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sets alight!

So with his choice made, SY, now WQW, wakes up half-disorientated, his forearms aching and the sounds of crying children and concerned/panicked teenagers.

After he gets dragged to Qian Cao Peak, the still-glitching system gives him the rundown of the situation of how he entered his new body; apparently Original!WQW got caught up in trying to stop a disciple from experimenting with volatile sword materials and the forge blew up as he tried to do damage control after he got everyone out, gaining a head injury and leaving him with plausible temporary amnesia, in addition to a sort of broken/glitched OOC lock that gradually corrupts over time till it's gone due to the vague understanding of the guy.

SY|WQW [we’ll just call him WQW from now on] realised that he was placed in PIDW a few months before the disciple choosing where LBH officially enters the sect, gets picked, and then is abused by SQQ [future him problem!!!] and although he doesn’t want LBH to face all those injustices, the system will not let him take purposeful actions to change certain plot points in the face of system punishment.

After he is fully released from Qian Cao Peak, he is expected by both the sect and mandated by the system to attend the disciple choosing.

While watching the poor children climb the massive staircase and start digging their hole to the best of their ability in an attempt to become a part of the prestigious sect and change the course of their life which they would most likely wish they didn’t join when LBH sets this place on fire…and sees what he thinks is a smol fluffy girl who has the determination and a spark in her eye attempting to dig a massive hole meticulously to catch the eye of a peak lord.

He runs through each wife in LBH’s harem to see if he can match this cute jie-jie with, and can’t seem to match her.

Looking around, he takes note that the other peak lords are overlooking her, seemingly disinterested or glancing her over with slight disgust at her thoroughly worn-through but obviously meticulously cleaned-up/washed clothing.

His eyeing had caught the eye of a little girl, most likely NYY who stood next to who he could only assume to be SQQ. She asks SQQ something about having a new martial sibling, which draws the attention of both SQQ and LQG to the girl.

Obviously having changed something as now NYY is eyeing this girl instead of her future demon harem husband system don’t punish me, as well as placing this jie-jie in the lane of SQQ, who is eyeing her with an unnamed but obviously not good look cause this cute girl is in front of a lecherous man as well as in the sight of LQG who wow has such a womanly visage I'd have thought that he would be more gruff who is set to die off in a few years and is peak lord of a boyish and brutish peak which he doesn't think that such a pretty jie-jie should be on, there is only one thing he can do!

So, at the end of the day, he ends up picking this smol bean before these ppl can get their hands on her, as obviously she wasn’t accepted in the original PIDW and if she had lived would have most likely ended up as a harem member, cause no way would such a cute bean not grow up and not catch the eye of LBH!

Obviously he won't let her suffer such a fate or leave her in the hands of SQQ. This causes some of his martial siblings to side-eye him, as he has a history of choosing more well-built candidates and not skinny dirty runts that look like death-warmed-over.

This smol jie-jie has sparkles in her eyes as she gets called over by one of WQW’s runners, which light up more the closer she gets to her new to-be-Shuzin!!! HIM!

WQW feels proud of his choice and decides that that is enough of tempting fate and the system, so he turns to leave, promising himself to ensure this little jie-jie lives her best life away from the plot [and LBG and his harem] on his peak!

…not seeing the system glitching and erroring to hell and back, not able to punish him as it was not a purposeful choice and raging in its system space at the hell that its higher-ups would put it through.

All because SY|WQW didn’t take note of the child’s outerwear. :)

[lexosaurus]

Gym 101

In which Valerie forces Danny to go workout with her

[ao3]

Characters: Danny & Valerie Warnings: None Wc: 2,230

****

"You're not engaging your core, Danny. What do I keep telling you?" Valerie sighed and put down her weight. "You're going to fuck up your knees if you don't slow down and do this right."

"And I keep telling you I don't even know what that means!" Danny snapped, not for the first time this week and probably not the last.

When he told Valerie that he, Danny Fenton, was also Danny Phantom, Danny had been expecting Valerie to be so mad at him that she never wanted to speak to him again.

And, well, she had been that mad at him. Very mad, in fact. So pissed, that for a minute, Danny was worried she was going to blast him off her roof.

He hadn't stuck around long after that.

And while he was beginning to make himself comfortable in the campground called, "Valerie's Cold Shoulder," he barely had two days to settle in before she had seemingly decided that enough was enough. 

Just before homeroom began, she strode to him in the hall, pulled him to the side—literally, she yanked him around the corner by his shirt sleeve—and demanded they start hitting the gym together.

"Because," Valerie had explained at his whining, and not patiently either, "I get that you have ghost powers, but your human half is such a twig. Seriously, Danny, do you know how much you're holding yourself back right now? If you actually tried strength training, I bet you'd level up pretty hardcore in ghost fights. Who knows? You might be able to train your reflexes to dodge one of Skulker's blasts from time to time."

And well, that bruise to both Danny's ghostly ego and his human teenage boy ego had been all he needed to agree to start working out with none other than his former rival turned ally, Valerie Gray.

"Stand up straight," Valerie ordered, pulling him back to his present world of pain.

He had no idea how Jazz and his mom liked doing this stuff. At the current moment, he was pretty sure the person who invented the concept of lifting weights was a giant masochist because there was simply no way in hell anyone throughout history would have ever said, "You know what sounds like the most fun thing ever? Let's take heavy objects, lift them, do a little movement, and then put them back down in the same spot we lifted them from!"

But apparently, he was the weirdo for not understanding why there was a dedicated fanbase of people who put a metal bar on their back, put some weights on the sides of the bar, squatted into a crouch, and then stood back up.

And repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

And again. Ten times, resting, and then ten more times.

Danny weakly stood, gripping the bar behind his shoulders like it was the only thing tethering his will to live to this plane of existence, and glared at Valerie through sweaty bangs. "Okay, standing. What next?"

"We godda fix your core."

"Be my guest," Danny said. He wasn't even sure if Valerie could fix something he'd never had to begin with, but if she truly wanted to, then...whatever. He'd lost by coming here, anyway.

Valerie scrutinized him as if he was some sort of science project that wasn't quite working out how she'd hoped. Which, thinking about it for a moment, he figured that was probably exactly what he was to Valerie. 

Then, without warning, she put her hand on his stomach.

Now, Phantom was largely considered a very suave and cool hero. Well, maybe Sam and Tucker would disagree, and sure there was a whole TikTok tag dedicated to videos of him falling into random objects, but still. There were enough random people around who would agree that Phantom was at least somewhat socially sufficient.

But Fenton on the other hand was very much not. He was an awkward, goofy teen. He wasn't popular, and he didn't exactly have a lot of girls fawning over him at every turn.

Which was why Valerie, his former girlfriend who maybe he still had some deeply buried feelings for, touching him so casually was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his brain.

"...got it?" Valerie was saying.

Certainly, she had said something.

Something that Danny was supposed to be listening to.

Oh, shit. 

"Uh..." Danny tried to re-circuit his brain.

"Here, follow my lead. Okay? Breathe," she said. "Good. Now, tighten your abs."

Danny tried his best to follow.

"No, see, you're sucking in. Tightening your abs doesn't mean sucking in. It's like, okay, think of it this way. Try hardening your abs into a brick wall. Like, squeeze them together. Now—yeah, like that. Now, can you try adding your side and lower back into that brick wall too?"

"Try adding what?"

The corners of Valerie's lip twitched up. "The sides of your stomach? You have abs there too. And there are muscles in your lower back. That's all part of your core too. Remember what I said about your core's job to keep your body stable? Those muscles are all important for that."

"Valerie, I think you're really overestimating how in shape I am. I didn't even know there was more than one ab muscle, much less that there were abs on the sides of my body."

"Well, you have them, ghost boy."

"Doesn't help much if I can't feel them."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Well, just try your best."

"Yes, Ma'am." Danny did his best to follow her lead while also struggling to ignore the fact that her hand was still on his stomach. 

He was so glad Tucker wasn't here to see his face. He could only hope that Valerie had come to the conclusion that the redness he could feel burning from his cheeks was proof that he was way more out of shape than she thought he was. That was still pretty embarrassing, and likely not even all wrong, but he would take it over the truth.

"Okay, now reset your shoulders. Stop hunching so much," she said.

"But the bar feels weird," Danny defended.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get used to it. Stop looking down so much. You want your spine to be straight."

"I know." 

Half of what Valerie had been telling him for the past week was to straighten his spine. He couldn't help it if his back was a visual representation of his many years of late-night gaming. 

"Okay, now squat down." She leaned forward, and her dark eyes were just inches from his own. "No—look at me the whole time. Don't drop your eyes to your feet."

Oh, his face was burning burning now.

He slowly lowered his body, focusing on staying balanced as best as he could. Having a bar on his back was still a new sensation, and Valerie was refusing to let him load any weight onto it. Apparently, everyone started from an empty bar until they got the hang of the motion. Danny wasn't sure if that was something Valerie was just saying to be nice to him, or if that was actually true. 

He did try asking, and she just got offended that he would dare think so low of her that she would lie about something gym-related, and then she told him to stop screwing around and focus on the exercise.

So, it was fifty-fifty at this point.

"Keep going down," Valerie instructed, stepping back and thankfully removing her hand from him in the process.

Seriously, that had been the longest several seconds of his entire life and half-life combined.

"But I thought you weren't supposed to go past ninety degrees or something?" Danny asked from his invisible chair-like position in his squat.

"No, that's a lie. I think they just tell that to people who have butt-wink or bad mobility or something."

"The hell is butt-wink? See, now I just think you're making stuff up."

"I'm not! It's actually something you're doing right now." Valerie pointed at him in the mirror. "See how your pelvis is tucking in and curving your lower back? That's butt-wink." She moved to stand next to him and lowered down in a squat. "See my lower back? It's straight. This is how you want to be."

Danny wasn't aware that working out would just give him more things to be self-conscious about. He tried to straighten his lower back, but it was almost impossible to do so without feeling like he was going to fall on his ass. "Okay, then how do I fix that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a doctor, so I'm sure it could be caused by a few different things. But the most common one I've heard is that butt wink happens when your core is shit. But it could also just as likely be an ankle and hip flexibility issue too."

Danny rolled his eyes. "As we've established, my core is shit. And I'm not flexible at all. "

"Yeah, I know," Valerie lamented. "I can't believe you've been fighting as Phantom for all these years and you haven't gone to the gym even once. Isn't Sam really into working out or something? Why didn't you ask to be her gym buddy?"

"Because I value my life." Danny paused. "My half-life, whatever. Tucker worked out with her once to prepare for the President's fitness test they did freshmen year, and I didn't stop hearing about it for months. She's ruthless."

"You know what, I believe that."

"Yup," Danny grunted, lowering to do another squat.

Two down, about five million more to go.

People actually enjoyed lifting weights? They came to the gym willingly? As in, of their own volition?

They seriously sweated and lifted heavy objects in a room surrounded by a bunch of equally sweaty, smelly strangers who were lifting other objects? 

And they thought it was fun?

That seemed absurd.

Valerie scrunched her nose at him.

"What?" Danny asked, his voice teetering past the line between speaking normally and whining, but he was far too exhausted to care. "Why are you looking at me like that? What am I doing wrong now?"

"No, it's just—" Valerie tilted her head. "Try widening your stance more. And maybe try pointing your toes out a little bit. That should help with your form. I mean, ideally, your ankle mobility would be better, but given it's pretty shit right now, this might be the best fix."

"God, I'm hopeless. Just give me the word and I'll leave."

"Oh, stop. You're not hopeless. You just need to stretch more. And train more."

Danny shuffled his feet and bent down into another squat. Having a wider stand did make the squat feel easier, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "No, I am definitely hopeless. It'll be a blow to my ego, but I think I can emotionally recover if I leave the gym right now."

Valerie punched his arm, though it had no real power to it. She'd long since stopped legitimately trying to hurt him. 

Nevertheless, he would have sooner let Skulker capture him than pass up an opportunity to verbally torment Valerie. "Wow, I can't believe my ally is trying to beat me up and murder me in public. Especially while I'm trying to better myself in the gym."

"Oh, shut up." Although she tried to look angry, Danny could see the corners of her lips quirk into a smile. "Alright, your form is looking a lot better. It's still not perfect, but it's way better than when we started."

"Thank god."

"Maybe in a few weeks we can start adding plates."

A few weeks?

He must have let his internal expression show, because she once again snapped with, "It's normal for people to only squat the bar when they first start. It's way more important to get proper form than to lift heavy. You see that guy over there?"

She nodded across the room at a man doing chest presses. He was using weights that Danny could only dream of, pumping them up and down with a confidence that Danny was sure rivaled even Dash.

So the man looked alright to Danny, but apparently, that was the wrong conclusion to come to, if Valerie's critical eye was any judge.

"See how his elbows are basically straight out from his body? And see how he's not extending his arms all the way when he presses? He's rushing through the exercise. It's bad form, and while it may feel cool to lift heavy, bulky weights, if you can't even do the exercise properly, you just end up looking like a fool." She turned back to him. "Remember, you're in a gym. That means you're surrounded by people who have been doing this shit for years. Trust me when I say you're not going to impress anyone by rushing through the exercises to try to look cool."

"Aye-aye, captain."

It wasn't like he was going to impress anyone with the way he was wobbling while attempting to squat the naked bar, anyway.

"Alright, that's enough of a rest, I think. This time, let's actually do eight reps."

"Literal torture."

"Keep the whining up, and I might just call my blaster out."

Danny could see it in her eyes that she wasn't joking.

And so, he began.

****

[read more of my fics here]

[xjulixred45x]

Rin Okumura x Half Angel! Reader

Request from @birdgirl98

Hi! How’s your weekend going? Could I request Blue Exorcist Rin relationship headcanons with a female half angel half human reader? Please and thank you!

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: Minor Manga Spoilers, some discrimination, Reader is Half angel, Fluff.

Rin was quite shocked when he first met you.

more than anything because he confused you with another Nephelim, due to the...strange aura you had.

Rin even felt threatened by you, by your presence. Maybe bc You were somewhat Holy.

probably his instincts as a son of satan tried to "protect" him from you in a certain way.

but at the same time very intrigued.

apart from the fact that, in general, you were never mean to him, in the least. In fact, quite the opposite. not only with him, but with everyone in the class, no matter how rude they were(ahem hem IZUMO ahem hem), you were always so... bright and friendly.

You honestly already knew that he was the son of Satan even before he said it because of all the demonic power he and the sword gave off, but you didn't want to expose it because you knew how horrible it was to be a victim of that.

While you were growing up there were people who found out about your "holy ancestry" and tried to take advantage of it in multiple ways. if it weren't for your mother.

You got used to having a certain distance from people, although you never stopped being friendly with others.

Apart from the fact that you were also strong, it could be seen with the naked eye. It was that that made him (and most of them) think that you were also the daughter of some demon.

It didn't help that Mephisto constantly tried to get close to you to make "inside" jokes that no one understood.

but in general Rin didn't dare to talk to you, he just felt intimidated at first.

you had to take the first step in this. when you two were assigned a job together.

precisely because you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable after making conversation, asking him about work, things like that.

and Rin began to gain more confidence to address you more naturally later.

Little by little the "intimidating" atmosphere around you dissipated and he was able to start a conversation with you as he normally would with his colleagues.

You realized that he was doing poorly in most subjects, so you started to give him a hand in that.

sometimes with little notes, indirectly telling him the answer, evolving in afternoons of study with him. which led to you getting to know each other better.

It was around that time that Rin decided to ask about your parents. His curiosity was already reaching its limit.

and you decided to be honest with him, after all, who would understand better about mismatched parents if it weren't the SON OF SATAN?

and you told him that you were not a daughter of a demon. quite the opposite. but of an ANGEL.

Your mother had fallen in love with a celestial being but said being practically did not participate much in your life until you developed your powers, that was when the Vatican intervened and, similar to Rin, Mephisto intervened on your behalf.

Now, that made your intimidating aura make A LOT more sense to Rin!

for a moment at least.

Then he was very confused.

and he started asking you a lot of questions about your father and things like that because, well, he KNEW about demons and they even studied about them, but angels?? It is something completely NEW for him and he hardly knows that they also exist.

His questions aren't exactly invasive, but more on the side of innocent curiosity like "does that mean there's a heaven? (I guess I won't be able to go there because-you know) there's a GOD? Does your father work with him??" "Are the angels just as ugly as the ones they show in the Bible?(how did your mother like that then? ew)" etc.

It's even kind of cute to see, how Satan's son seems so intrigued by the "heavenly world" even if it is its total opposite.

Apart from the fact that not even YOU know the answer to more than half of those questions. but at the same time you finally have someone who doesn't seem bothered by this information...quite the opposite.

I firmly believe that Rin would be much closer to you now, because they are the only ones who fully understand each other's situation of having a questionable father but on different levels.

Rin also understands that you don't want to tell your classmates, whether for personal reasons or simply not wanting to tell them so as not to scare or intimidate them with the idea of angels.

Although even so, Rin will always remind you that he is on your side and that your companions will always ALWAYS see you as one of the group, regardless of your species.

Now, if that generates a conflict similar to the one it caused when he revealed himself as the son of Satan, he has your back and tries to get everyone to make peace, because 1- you didn't have to say it if you didn't want to and 2- it's something very staff who have hurt you before. They should be a little more empathetic.

If everyone learned from their experience with Rin and accepts you at first, he will be calmer and even proud of the progress they have made as a group.

everyone together tries to make theories about heaven and things like that 🤣

probably being the only daughter of an angel, similar to Rin, they put you in special training, but maybe instead of with Shura, with Yukio. so you both end up spending a lot more time together.

If you have wings, Rin DEMANDS to touch them! Of course, he won't do it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but if you give him permission...oh boy he's rubbing his face in the feathers as if it were a pillow.

If you show your wings to the other classmates they will be quite shocked, but also intrigued (I can see Shiemi putting accessories on your feathers or brushing them 🥰 )

If we talk about advanced relationship terms, Rin is a physical contact guy, he really likes to hug you, give smooches, hold hands, anything is good for him as long as they are making physical contact.

Although in general spending time with you is good for him when he is stressed, it is like it recharges his battery.

If you like manga or something like that, HE'S YOUR BOY! I can definitely see him doing the unthinkable with you: lending you one of his Mangas.

He is also an expert at making you laugh, but he is a fan of doing it at the LEAST opportune moments, like for example, you are having a lesson with Yukio and out of nowhere you look to the side and turn to Rin with his chopsticks in his nose :/

He's also, canonically, very good at cooking, so depending on whether you're good at cooking or not, it could be another way for you to spend time together!

If you're like me and cook anything randomly, you and Rin can probably have a cute couple moment while making Bentos🥰

If you want to learn to cook, he teaches you! Go from being Gordon Ramsey in Master Chef to being Gordon Rasmey in Kids Chefs with you. super patient and loving.

(totally ruthless if it were anyone else. by anyone else I mean Yukio).

He is also quite protective of you.

For example, even if he saved your life and his, he knows better than to trust Mephisto too much, so if he sees him trying to pull one of those "inside jokes" I mentioned above, Rin gets defensive.

Also in general in exercises you tend to put your safety above the main objective😅 even if he know that they are not lethal exercises, it does not mean that you cannot get hurt easily(like the one of the Ep1).

Although it doesn't mean he doesn't trust your abilities! If you show that you have good skills in exorcising, he is the first to encourage you to improve. It makes him calmer knowing that you can defend yourself (or better yet, stop him if he gets out of control).

Rin is also sometimes afraid to be a little more open emotionally, after everything he has been through, he believes he handles everything well. But if you encouraged him to talk about what bothers him, I think he would honestly burst into tears.

You two understand each other on a very high spiritual level. If Satan wants to mess with YOUR boyfriend he will have to deal with you first. You can't stand the demon.

If your father comes out of the blue to "try to reconcile" or WORSE, wants to hurt you for being a half-blood, he will have to face the fury of the literal spawn of SATAN. Rin is not very nice to your father, very angelic and all, but having the father figure that he had, he definitely sees your father as unworthy of the title of Father.

(unless obviously you have a good relationship with your father currently despite everything. In that case Rin wishes things were that easy for him)

although I can definitely see him filling out nicely with your mother! He himself never met his and from what he learned more about her and Satan... he would really have liked to have someone like you had.

It may even become a habit to go to your mother's house from time to time, to get a taste of the life he wants in the future.

Overall, Rin completely accepts your angelic nature just like you completely accepted his demonic nature. He likes to think that you two are two sides of the same coin, for this reason, he supports you unconditionally and will be your accomplice no matter what.

He loves you very very much regardless of whether you are half angel, demon or just a normal human.

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