#i even have alarms. i have so many. and i heard one alarm today at 12pm but like

[n0ct0urn1quet]

godi think not falling asleep until like 8-9am has made me just scatterbrained today . i made food earlir but forgot about it in the microwave so when i took it out i t was all cold n gross (i only reembered it because i heard mom in the kitchen and was like "oh im hungry. OH WAIT MY FOOD") and then just now i was making somthing else in the microwave bc my food earlir was Coold n Gross so i threw it away and i straight up made food, went back into my room, n a while goes by n my moms doin her thing n i hear her open the microwave n she comes into my room n shes like "did you just make something" and im like "what" n shes like "theres food in the microwave? i opened it cause i was gonna clean it but theres food in there" n i just completely forgot about it and that had also been sitting in there for like 20 minutes at least n then i jus had to throw it away n now im just sitting here like Well Now What Do I Eat because both things ive tried to make in the microwave were things i forgot about within seconds and i am juts so tired . i hear the microwave beep but if i dont get up and go get it then i will juts ocmpetly forget about it. pov i have no sense of object permamancy because the second i dont hear the microwave beep i instantly forget about my food and it sits in there and Gets Cold. God! sleep deprivation and adhd do not mix i think!

[glorismorningstar]

IMAGINE: YOU'RE LATE TO THE VEES' HEADQUARTERS ON EXTERMINATION DAY

"Four calls," VELVETTE said as she paced around the living room, running a hand through her hair as she tried to keep herself in check. She had given you a strict schedule to adhere to for today, and the worse has happened. You're late. "Four fucking calls and she hasn't picked up. Where the fuck is she?"

"Y/N's a big girl, Velvette. She's ten minutes late, it's not the end of the world." Vox thought he was doing good, but it only made her more agitated.

She turned on her heels to face Vox, hands firmly on her hips in an attempt to calm herself. "What the actual fuck are you saying? Do you know what time it is?! We have exactly one minute before the angels get here, and I swear to God that if she's not in here by then, I'll go out there and fetch her myself!"

"Before you make any rash decisions-" he couldn't even finish the sentence before the cries of terrified sinners and demons reached their ears. Velvette jogged to the clear window and smushed her face against the glass to look for you in the midst of the chaos.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" She gritted in frustration as she felt her breath shudder and stutter, eyes desperately scouring the streets for any sign of you.

Her phone rang and she scrambled to pick up the call, relieved to read your name on the screen. "Where the fuck are you?!"

"Velvette, I'm- ah!" You yelped as you dodged an angel, running through the crowd to blend in and hide. You could see the Headquarters from where you stood. "I'm almost there!"

"Tell me where you are right now!" She demanded, her thick accented voice didn't leave any room for argument or mirth in such a situation. If something were to happen to you, she didn't know what she'd do.

"I'm in the crowd!" You spoke loudly to make sure she heard you through the phone in the middle of all the chaos.

Velvette ran over to the stairs and walked down as fast as possible, hoping to find you and drag you to safety. You could hear her yelling for Vox to find you with his cameras and her frantic stomps down God knows how many flights of stairs.

"Y/N?" She called out, standing on her tip toes to spot you.

You could see her standing behind the glass door, panicky red eyes combing through the giant hoard of sinners running for their lives. She hung up the phone and walked into the crowd, looking for you.

Your heart almost stopped beating when your eyes caught the blue, pink and white flash of her hair. It was dangerous, what the hell was she doing? "Velvette!"

You squeezed through the stampeding sinners and took hold of her hand. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You should be inside!"

"So should you!" She retorted, leading you back to the building. The way she grasped your hand like a lifeline, posture so tense and eyes wide with alarm as she pulled you to the Headquarters made you feel that she loved you more than she let on.

She tripped on a pebble and dropped to the ground, which made you instinctively shield her from the exorcists with your body. Heaven would never murder one of the Vees and you knew, but with the way the sinner were stepping over you, you couldn't have her getting hurt, especially with how her small stature made her susceptible to trampling. She had also given you clothes that she designed herself with her signature style, yet another of her favourite ways of marking you as hers, so that the angels would see you're with her.

In a moment of bravery, you picked her tiny body up in your arms and rushed towards the door of the Headquarters.

Velvette gasped as you slammed the door open and shut it tightly, pressing your back flush against the cold glass with a sigh of relief. You dropped to your knees in exhaustion and she soon follows, hands flying to cup your cheeks. "Darling, are you alright? Did they get you? Are you hurt? Are yo-"

"My love," you interrupted her rambling, resting a hand on top of hers. "I'm okay. I promise."

She sighed and pulled you into her arms, burying her face in your neck. "Don't do that ever again. You scared the shit out of me."

You press a soft kiss to the top of her head, carding your fingers through her tricolour hair. The pads of your fingers rubbed on her scalp, trying to ground her to reality. "I'm sorry. I promise I won't be late next time."

She smiled and rested her forehead on yours, then planted a kiss on your lips out of relief. She had no idea what she would have done with herself if the exorcists had gotten to you first. She pushed such thoughts away and hugged you tightly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 1.9k

- Shorty - 

Clarisse la rue x fem!short!aphrodite!reader

Based on this request!!

summary: when past insecurities of your height come rising back up due to a pack of stupid kids, your girlfriend is there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: small scene of bullying, name calling (just a ton of bullying about being short), kinda oc clarisse i think idk. Kinda shitty cuz i have insane writers blockkkkkkk i honestly may re-write it soon cuz i kinda hate this. just my writing. the request is so cute thoughhhhh. kinda less of protective clarisse and more of soft clar im sorrrryyyyy. yeah i think ima re-write. sorry im ranting.

a/n: okayyyyy this took way to long. Im so sorry dear @cosmopretty!! I broke up with my bf of three years, a ton of stuff happened, but im finally back!! Thank you for requesting and im actually so sorry it took so long! <3

— – — – — – — – —

Being short in a world where height mattered was always an uphill battle for you. Literally. When was the last time you heard a Greek myth about a hero who was short and didn’t get stepped on by the monster they were trying to fight?

The second part didn’t affect you too much though. Not until you were a bit older. When you were just a kid, it was easier, as the only struggle you had was weird delusions of hidouses monsters nobody else could see and bullies that targeted your height.

When a satyr had shown up when you were young and told you that you were in great danger and had to come with him, you’d honestly thought about pulling the fire alarm so that you didn’t get kidnapped. One of the winged beasts only you see crashed through a window and launched at you though, so you’d reluctantly went with him.

That’s how you found yourself at camp half blood, where things like height didn’t matter as much to kids that were a satyrs hoove close to death at any given moment. You’d met kids like you, ones that made you feel less insecure about your height by the way they could easily take down the older kids in sword fights by using their height to their advantage. Then, you met Clarisse.

You’d honestly thought she would bully you, as she had a rep around here for doing that to anyone who dared look at her for too long, but she had seemed to take a liking to you.

She’d only flirted with you at any given chance, and then time flew by, and suddenly you were taking her out on a date after begging Chiron to let you guys go see a movie. You’d never left her side after that, and she never wanted you too.

“Baby.” Clarisse mumbles, keeping her grip on your waist tight when you try to get out of her bed. You’d been cuddling all morning despite her needing to go to training and finish the chores she didn’t do yesterday along with the ones she needs to do today, but she just doesn’t seem to be ready to get up.

You chuckle softly, brushing some hair out of her face which makes her smile a bit. She knows you have to get up and go back to your cabin, though her eyes never fail to make you agree to five more minutes of cuddle time.

So you lay back down, enjoying the peace of her cabin that never really comes unless her siblings are out like they are right now.

After a few minutes you get up despite her many complaints, throwing on her hoodie and brushing your hair in a mirror. Being an aphrodite kid, your looks are important to you, and you’d rather not go outside with bed hair.

Clarisse comes up behind you, chin resting on the top of your head and arms wrapped around your torso. “Hey shorty.” You giggle, leaning back into her before pushing her away when she begins to poke at your side in an attempt to annoy you. She loves your height, never missing a chance to remind you that she’s taller by using your head as a resting point, or towering over you when you talk to her. It makes her smile and it amuses you, so you let it happen.

The fact that it erases your insecurities, even if for just a few minutes, is just a bonus.

Finally you leave her cabin, rushing off to your own and quickly greeting your siblings before you begin getting ready, a permanent blush on your face with the memory of your girlfriend.

After getting ready and packing your bag, you leave your cabin, nodding towards Clarisse in greeting across the green. Today is Friday, which means capture the flag, which means Clarisse’s favorite day. She enjoys these blood fests, and though you do too, nobody- including you- is as crazy and rough about it as your girlfriend.

You and your siblings sit at your table in the dinner hall until Chiron calls out for your cabin, and though you all push eachother out of the way, you end up second to last in the line to get food. You sigh, rolling your eyes at the way Silena sticks her tongue out at you with a smug smile before you lean on the wall and wait for your turn.

Once you’ve got your food, you walk back to your table, though you accidentally run into one of the older kids named Jackson. You try to apologize, but he cuts you off. “Watch where you're walking, hobbit.” You have to admit it makes you a bit upset, but you’ve heard worse, so you just mumble your apology and stumble off.

“Hey shorty! I’m talking to you!” He calls out, followed by some more people giggling as they step up behind you. It sounds gross when they say it, as you're more used to Clarisse calling you that. It doesn’t make you feel warm and flustered when they say it. It just makes you feel small.

You turn around to look at them with a frown of confusion, but it just turns into a plain old frown when you see the way he’s looking at you. The same way all your old bullies would look at you.

Where is Clarisse?

Her cabin still isn’t here, so you're left to just look at him with a scowl. He sees it, and his smug smile only grows.

“Something you wanna say elf? I think Santa needs you back at the factory now.” All his friends laugh, but it’s the worst insult ever, so you just tighten your grip on your tray and glare at him.

“I think you gotta go get back to the kid’s table before Chiron see’s you.” You don’t know why, as that insults as dumb as the others, but it strikes some type of nerve in you and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. It only eggs on Jackson, because he begins high fives his girlfriend Ashley and tells you to go cry about it like a baby.

“Nobody needs a short hero. You’ll be dead before your little girlfriend can save you.”

You basically cower off to your table, head hung low in shame and picking at your food. Your siblings look worried, especially when their attempts for conversation go completely ignored.

Is Jackson right? Is being short completely a disadvantage?

That night, all though your siblings drag you out of bed for a campfire, one set to celebrate another one of your girlfriends wins in capture the flag, you mostly keep to yourself. You sit on one of the logs, watching with sad eyes as everyone else dances around and cheers for Clarisse.

She's only focused on you though. She watches from across the fire as you wipe away tears, a frown stitched onto her face despite the praise coming from her friends and siblings.

Why are you crying?

Clarisse gets up, ignoring her siblings as she walks over to you and kneels down behind you, resting her chin on your head and her arms securely around your waist. You just squirm out of her grip, and she might even say the frown on your face only deepens.

“What's wrong shorty? Nobody gets to cry on my celebration campfire, especially not you.” She attempts a joke, giving you a small smile as she rubs your bag. You roll your eyes, looking at her with the most serious expression she's ever seen on your face.

“You know my name. My name isn't Shorty.”

Clarisse frowns, biting her bottom lip. You'd been this way when you first got to camp, after years of being bullied, but since then she'd reassured you that nobody cared how tall you are and she in fact loves your height.

But this….it makes it seem almost like you're going back to the olds way. Like you're being bullied again.

“Did someone say something?” She questions after a beat of silence, previous sadness replaced by anger as she scans the crowd like she’s just going to know who said something mean to you by reading their mind.

You shake your head, hiding your face in your hands but still not answering her. Finally you look up, eyes filled with a sadness she would kill to see go away before you nod towards where Jackson is cuddling with his girlfriend over on the lawn.

Clarisse immediately gets up in search of her spear, but you grab her wrist, gently tugging her to sit back down. “No. Please Clar. Don’t make it a big deal.” You basically beg, and her eyes slightly soften before they go back to pure rage.

“No. Nobody gets to be mean to you. Tell me what they said.”

You shake your head fast, hand clasped over your mouth. She tilts her head a bit and you once again shake your head no, knee’s bouncing in nervousness at the way she’s staring at you.

So you spill. You tell her everything they said, how mean they were, how bad it made you feel. And by the end of it, you and your sister have to hide her spear from her and convince her not to go kill Jackson and Ashley.

Clarisse takes a deep breath, cracking her knuckles before she sighs. She’s never been very good at comforting people, more so killing them, but here you are, her girlfriend, crying over something someone you barely even know said about you. She has to figure it out.

“I love the way I can put my chin on your head and hold you tight. Makes me feel like I can protect you even more.” She says quietly, clearing her throat and continuing when you look up with a sniffle. “and….I love that you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss me. It makes me smile. And I-I love when you somehow fit yourself into tiny little spaces. Make’s ambushes in fights a lot funnier when I see the look on the other person's face. And…I think you’re a great fighter. You can take me down ⅘ times when we fight, and I think you could protect me in battle better than anyone could. You’re a good demigod, your height just adds to that.”

By the end of it you can’t help but smile, slightly nudging her with a blush. She nods, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you close into her chest. She kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a second before she pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you shorty.”

— – — – — – — – —

Safe to say, by the next morning, news gets around that Jordan and Ashley are resting in the infirmary with matching broken noses and black eyes.

— – — – — – — – —

[ckret2]

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

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

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

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

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

####

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

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

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

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan patted his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

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

"Is that a promise?"

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

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

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

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

####

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

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

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

####

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

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

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

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

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

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

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

"Wait, really?"

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

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

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

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

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

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

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

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

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

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

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford? No. Did he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned into the kiss.

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

The door opened. "Um?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

And then he ate the paper.

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

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

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill liked that idea a lot.

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

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

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

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

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

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

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

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello!"

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

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

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

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

"Probably."

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know you don't really hate me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford stared at Bill.

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

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill didn't reply.

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

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

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

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

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

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

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

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

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

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

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

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

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

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

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

Stan flipped on the lights.

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

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

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

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

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

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

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

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

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

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

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

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

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

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

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

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

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

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

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

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

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

If he could ever contact them again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

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

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

He wanted to be awed again.

####

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

[rightshoeonleftfoot]

From Afar

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x afab! reader

Summary: You had a bad day and you're head over heels for a Lieutenant that's not even yours. He never even seems to look at you, let alone speak to you. Little do you know, he's been watching you.

Warnings: Stalking (innocent stalking hehe), mutual pining, possessive! Simon Riley, power imbalance.

Words: 1.7k

Part 1 - Part 2

This is not proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes!! Constructive criticism is 100% welcome :)

I wanna make this a series eventually so let me know if you're interested! I wrote this at work lol

Average. That's what you were. An average soldier. You weren't even a bad soldier, you just weren't outstanding. You simply didn't stand out even though you desperately wanted to. You wanted to stand out to him. To the one man you'd been longing for ever since you saw him walk past you in the hallway when you were on your way to training.

A tall, broad man whose gaze would scare anyone away. He seemed cold, distant, someone you could never get along with. A man with many secrets, someone who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his life for his Taskforce. Lieutenant Riley. He never formally introduced himself but you'd heard. You'd heard all the rumours and chatter that surrounded him and you almost felt guilty.

He'd lead training every once in a while, when your superiors were away on important missions. You'd always do your damn best during those times, you wanted his attention, you wanted his praise. Yet, he'd never even so much as glance at you. It left you empty, disappointed and jealous. Jealous of your superior, Sergeant Davidson who'd openly flirt with him in front of everyone, especially in front of you. It's like she had something against you specifically, she'd often make you drop and give her 20 if you did anything that displeased her.

Today had been a shitty day. You'd slept through your alarm and ended up late to an early training session. Your Sergeant made an example out of you, making you run laps and do extra push ups. You were tired and hungry as you'd also missed breakfast, your stomach growling loudly as you were exercising. She had no pity, it was your fault after all. "You shouldn't have been late." She told you. "Don't fuck with the rules." She berated you as you held a plank. She had her foot on your back, occasionally adding weight on you to make you shake and give in to the weight she'd put on you. It was a humiliating morning to say the least, yet your day somehow got worse.

He hated the way she treated you. He hated the way your Sergeant got a power trip every time you did the smallest thing wrong. He wanted to rip her off you, tell her off for treating a Private like an animal. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for you. Hell, he had never even spoken to you once. He would just chalk it up to him being tired and not sleeping through the night. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from looking at you.

At lunch, you were starving and the mess hall was full. Not having eaten since 8 am and you were in desperate need for food. You'd finally picked up your tray and the food looked mediocre at best but you were too hungry to care. You were looking for a place to sit but the mess hall was packed. You skillfully navigated through the crowd of famished soldiers until you found a place. You quickly walked over to it, but it seemed someone had had the same idea as you. In a loud crash, your food fell to the floor, face first because of course it did. Your stomach growled once more as you looked down at the splattered food on the floor. The soldier who had bumped into you quickly apologized, his food untouched apart from the splatter of sauce that had ended on your uniform. Instead of helping you, he bolted off to eat. As you cleaned up your food, you knew your lunch would consist of nothing but vending machine snacks.

He watched. He saw you get bumped into by the careless little soldier. He saw you mutter and swear as you looked down at your food on the floor, completely defeated. "Fuck me, fuck this stupid fucking day." You'd mutter. He saw the way you quietly stared down at your food before picking up the dirty dishes and cleaning up the mess you'd made. He saw the way the soldier left you to your own devices and wanted so badly to berate him for not helping you. But he couldn't. So he watched.

You had a bit of free time after eating your snacks so you went to get changed and take the shower you didn't have time to take. You picked up your clean uniform and headed off to the communal showers, getting ready to wash off the food and sweat off you from this morning. You stripped and eagerly got in the shower. A sudden gasp came out of you. The water was cold. Very fucking cold. It wouldn't warm up even as you waited, your hand in the water. So you took a quick, cold shower.

The shower had left you tense and unsatisfied. A fitting continuation for your awful day. Next came hand to hand combat training. This was led by Ghost, so it lifted your spirits up a little. You walked into the gym early, not wanting to repeat this morning's mistake. Ghost was already there and you saluted him. In what felt like the first time since you'd met, he spared a glance at you. His gaze was cold, his brown eyes felt like they were staring in your soul. It seemed like he was studying you as the glance turned into more of a look, his eyes wandering ever so slightly to your face before he spoke.

"At ease." His voice was deep, deeper than you'd remembered. You felt happy. He had addressed you. It was almost cathartic, hearing him speak directly to you. You almost wantwd him to say more but to your disappointment, he looked away from you and resumed his conversation with your Sergeant. She was laughing and smiling, clearly flirting with him but he wasn't paying her any mind. You found yourself a partner and surprisingly enough, training went without much of a hitch. Both Ghost and Sergeant Davidson were watching over and your Sergeant was being much nicer with Ghost watching over her shoulder.

That was until the Sergeant used you as an example. Ghost looked at her disapprovingly but you didn't notice. She'd tell you to defend yourself but every time would take you down with ease. It left you humiliated and defeated. She finally got off you, clearly proud of herself for whatever reason. Your sparring partner helped you up and muttered something. "That fuckin' bitch." You were happy someone was on your side yet you felt disappointed. Ghost had just stood there, watching. He didn't do anything.

He saw, his mind in turmoil. On one hand, he could stop your Sergeant from taking you down more and cut the training short. On the other hand, he could let her keep going. She was showing a good technique but she wouldn't even give you the chance to try it on her. So he just stood there, conflicted. He wasn't doing anything.

You left training as soon as you could. You were beyond pissed and annoyed at today. You rushed to the mess hall to eat something and for once, everything was going well. You were approached by a soldier. A poor little soldier who was just as oblivious of Ghost as you were. He flirted with you and made you laugh. It was the first time today you'd felt truly at ease. He was making you laugh and over all, the conversation was just nice. You ended up shutting the conversation down early but sharing your contact information with him, a new friend couldn't hurt after all.

Your laugh. Your fucking laugh. Music to Ghost's ears. Music he never even thought he'd like, a soft melody that soothed whatever emotion he was feeling at the time. But that laugh wasn't for him. It was for this other private, this bastard, who dared to approach you while you were eating. He continued watching as you gave the man your contact information and he seethed. He didn't want to be jealous, but he was. He watched you leave to go to the shooting range for your nightly routine and as soon as you were out of sight, he walked to the soldier. The soldier froze when he saw Ghost. Ghost put his hand out, gesturing for the soldier to hand over what you'd given him. The soldier obliged and handed him the paper and Ghost proceeded to chew him out. He was ashamed of what he was doing and couldn't believe he felt the need to chew out an irrelevant soldier for hitting on you. He'd let his jealousy get the better of him.

The range was empty at this hour. Well, not fully but enough for the gun shots to be few and far between, startling you every time one went off. Going to the range after dinner was a part of your routine. There was a sort of pleasure in shooting targets to let loose of your emotions, it was therapeutic. The recoil of the gun as it went off in your hands, whether it was a p226 or an M4A4. You'd shoot for a while, never really looked at the time. But you'd often shoot until you felt the recoil of the gun in your hand without shooting, a familiar feeling.

Then came the cleaning. Cleaning your guns was your favourite part. It was slow and required patience, something you enjoyed. You'd take apart your guns with great care, feeling every nook and cranny as you did so. You'd clean them, taking the time to remove the dirt and grease which had lodged itself in all the cracks and crevices of the pistol. You liked it when they looked brand new. You'd connect your headphones to your phone and would listen to music, wanting to relax and take the edge off as you did a task most thought was tedious. Putting the guns back together was like a puzzle. A puzzle you'd done so much you could do it with your eyes closed. The way everything fit together perfectly, the way each piece clicked together with a soft, metallic sound. It was like a lullaby, soothing you to sleep. A welcome sound as it meant you'd go to bed soon.

Your ritual was over and you felt weary, your eyes closing on their own. With that, your day ended. In your shitty little barrack bed, still oblivious to your shadow. You fell asleep weirdly content with the day you had. Your alarm was set and you were confident you'd be ready for whatever awaited you tomorrow.

The range was big. Lots of places to hide, lots of places to watch. He followed you, his footsteps quiet, completely unheard by you. He enjoyed watching you shoot. It had become his routine as well. He'd watch you, correct your stance in his head without ever approaching you, then he'd watch you clean your guns. It calmed him. It soothed his mind and made him strangely happy to see someone who took such great care in cleaning their guns. He always wondered what you listened to. What had your foot tapping the beat, what had you softly smile when you cranked up the volume. He'd figure it out one day, just not tonight.

[nina-renmen]

Yandere Pickle x Black reader pt.2

Reader is described as a female as well as taller than the average woman. Mentions of reader having braids

Part 1. Part 3

Pickle growled at the small man, Tokugawa looked up at Pickle. An annoyed glint in his eye. “ Maybe he’s attracted to her.” Tokugawa reasoned. The doctor beside him only shook his head. “ He has to be more than just attracted to the young woman.” He started, “ He was attracted to that reporter, physical attraction…that’s all it was. But with y/n there seems to be something else, maybe emotional?”

Pickle growled even louder, the primitive man had gone to sleep. His arms circled around you as if you were a teddy bear. He’d only rested his eyes for a few minutes, maybe an hour? However long it was the man woke up to find you gone. Only faint traces of your scent clinging to his body.

But now that scent was gone, the only thing left was his memory of your face. It’s been two days since he’d last seen you. The only other person visiting him was that strange man with the braid that challenged him.

Pickle grew anxious, did you leave him? Where were you?! Pickle opened his mouth letting out a loud roar as he yelled in frustration. “ Is he throwing a…Tantrum?” Tokugawa deadpanned. “ Yes…yes I believe so. It seems y/n’s absence is stressful on him.”

Tokugawa sighed fishing his phone from his pocket, “ I’ll give her a call.”

Y/n groaned as her alarm rang, her scalp felt tight to the point where it was almost uncomfortable. Ignoring the feeling y/n turned around and turned off the alarm on her phone. She didn’t have to work today at the dojo since it was Saturday. Y/n smiled to herself as she unplugged her phone before turning back around and nestling further into her blanket.

Just as y/n finally got comfortable her phone rang. ‘Tokugawa? What does he want?’ Y/n mentally groaned as she answered the call. The more the conversation went on the more y/n realized that she would not be spending her Saturday sleeping all day.

“ This better be good, I haven’t gotten a decent amount of sleep all week.” Y/n groaned as she walked through the same entrance as she did two days ago. Pickles yells could be heard but once your voice reached his ears he stopped, his yells silencing. Turning around he met your unamused figure. Y/n crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto one leg, she was very, very unamused.

“ Really?” She asked looking up at him. Pickles eyes widened. His golden orbs sparkling with life as he looked down at her. But when y/n hadn’t shown her teeth back he frowned. Bending down, the primitive man was now on his knees so he could get a better look at you. Tilting his head to the side, confusion ran through him. Were you upset? Why? You did look tired.

Pickle looked up and noticed your hair. A new smell coming from it. Small accessories implanted inside making his face noticeably show curiosity. Lifting up his hand, he reached out to grab one of your many braids. But the harsh contact against his skin made him feel his hand back. A whine erupting from him.

“ No! You’ve been a very bad boy.” Y/n scolded, placing a hand on her hip. “ Why did I get a call from Tokugawa saying you were throwing a Tantrum? That is not acceptable behavior!” Y/n reprimanded the much larger man.

Pickle only let out a whine in response, his face morphing into a frown. Once y/n was finished she took one more look at him. Did she feel bad? No, she could be sleeping right now. But did she think his puppy eyes were absolutely adorable? Yes, yes she did.

Y/n raised a hand, her hand coming down lightly onto of Pickles head. “ All I’m saying is that you can’t act like that.” She said softly, her hands raking through his hair. The sad expression seemed to disappear immediately as Pickle tilted his head to the side like a cat, leaning into her touch. His chest rumbled, a purr emitting from him.

“ Hey!” Y/n called out, tilting her head up to the top of the stadium. Tokugawa and the doctor sat there amazed by how calm Pickle was. “ Why is he…like this anyway? I thought he was aggressive?”

The two men didn’t have a concrete answer. They could only make out guesses as to why Pickle was like this. Only pickle knew why he truely craved for your attention, your touch and your scent. But it was a shame he would never tell anyone.

[flamingo-writes]

ok but hear me out, artist f reader having pregnancy craving and hobie is taking care of her, that would be so adorable 😭💖 really love your posts, xoxo

No listen, I’m with you in this. Part of his badass punk nature is looking after his own, like the way he looks after Gwen, and how he helped Miles after 20 minutes of meeting him. I’m sure he’d be hella attentive of his s/o especially if his s/o is pregnant. Let’s go!

Chocolate Banana Bread — Hobie x Reader

You never really discussed children. Living together, staying life long partners was out of the question. It was just a given. Children were never part of the conversation. Not because you didn’t want them, but because it never turned up.

And when you found out you were pregnant, the both of you panicked a little bit. And you weren’t sure on what to do next. And the more time it went by, the more comfortable and even excited you got with the idea of becoming parents.

Hobie was already a very supportive boyfriend, but the moment you found out about the pregnancy he became even more protective and attentive. Even when you thought it was impossible. Especially when it came to your cravings.

However, his spider sense worked almost like telepathy. Every time he came home from doing his spidey duties, or just running errands, he always brought you something. And somehow it always seemed to be exactly what you craved.

Most of your days looked the same. Working in art pieces in the morning, a couple of commissions, a couple of personal projects. You went to the art gallery you helped run and helped around with whatever was needed. Lunch break. Some more time at the gallery, mostly showing people around. And then back home. And an hour or so later, Hobie returned.

However, on one of your free days, halfway through your pregnancy, you were starting to get restless. You spent the morning not doing much, watering your plants, cleaning your brushes, organising all the paint you had, even gathering all of Hobie’s sketches and pieces of scrap paper he used for his collages and random materials for installations.

This day in particular you weren’t sure what you were craving. But you wanted to eat something very particular, but you couldn’t pin point exactly what. Chocolate maybe? Bread? You could do some chocolate bread, but there was something else missing. Raisins? No. That was weird. But pregnant women got weird cravings wasn’t it? Banana? You don’t remember being this crazy over bananas but many of the things that had changed, you attributed them to the pregnancy.

Chocolate banana bread.

As you looked around the kitchen, you grew frustrated with the fact that you had very few cocoa powder. Enough flour. And no bananas. In any other moment, you could easily grab your wallet and keys and go buy what you needed. But not today. Today the raging hormones got the better of you and you felt incredibly overwhelmed with everything. The lack of ingredients. The effort of grabbing your things. Walking to the store. On your free day! This isn’t how you wished to spend your free day! Bubbling like soda, your emotions soon erupted from your eyes in desperate tears as you tried to make sense of your own emotions.

“Home, sweet’eart!” You heard Hobie’s voice echoing, coming from the room. “Marco!”

“Polo!” You replied between sobs.

Upon hearing your shaky voice, Hobie rushed out of the bedroom, alarmed. As he saw you, he got up to you and called your name softly.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gently cupped your cheeks in his large hands. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, baby, what happened?”

“I wanted to make chocolate banana bread and we only’ve got flour…” You sobbed softly, your eyes wide and teary.

Hobie chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. “Hey, it’s a’ight, let’s make banana bread, luv…” He said as he pulled away and swung his backpack off his shoulder and opened it. “Take a peek,”

You cleaned your tears and looked at him puzzled before looking inside. Your eyes widened, and the plethora of hormones and emotions made your eyes teary once more as you started crying again. Hobie giggled softly.

“Hobie! You brought what we needed for the banana bread!” You sobbed.

“Hey, it was a hunch. These spider senses are pretty spot on, aren’t they?” He chuckled as you nodded and cleaned your face with the back of your hand. “Come on, luv…” He said, kissing your forehead. “You can stop crying…”

“I’m just very happy, Hobes…” You cried softly.

“I know, babe…” He chuckled cupping one of your cheeks, “I think it’s cute, actually” he purred before jerking his head, “c’mon, let’s get bakin’, although, I don’t want my banana bread all salty from tears…” He teased, making you laugh.

“Let me go wash my face…” You whispered as he clicked his tongue and winked.

“Sure, I’ll get started in everything else,”

[bloodylullaby]

Pairing: Noah x Reader

Word Count: 1886

MasterList

Author's Note: A continuation of If You're There ALSO - Let me know how you like this; I've been battling whether to keep doing cute things like this (I don't see as many cute things) or try to branch out to other things.

It’s finally happened. Noah finally realized that he was extremely burnt out and running on fumes, which led him to cancel his highly anticipated European tour. You had seen this coming for months but couldn’t convince him to take time for himself due to his relentless work ethic and a one-track mind. Despite your best efforts, his hard-working drive kept him pushing forward until he could no longer ignore the exhaustion.

Even though Noah is finally home, you haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks and have barely heard from him, which is unusual and increasingly concerning. You start to worry more and more, as you have never seen him in such a state before. His silence and isolation are alarming, making you realize just how serious his condition might be. With all the times Noah has gone out of his way to help you out of a rut, you know deep down that it's time to return the favor and be there for him. Today, you decide that you are going to go over to his house and show him so much love and support that he has no choice but to get better. You are determined to help him through this challenging period with your unwavering presence and care.

You pack two giant tote bags of things you know he enjoys, hoping to lift his spirits. One of the bags is stuffed with his favorite sweets, treats, and drinks, from gourmet chocolates and artisanal cookies to his preferred craft soda brand. You even include a few savory snacks that he always raves about. The other bag is filled with items that hold personal significance, things of yours that you know will help him feel more comfortable and connected. Among these is the stuffed animal he won for you at a carnival last summer, a cherished memento of happier times. You spray your signature scent on it, ensuring it carries the comforting fragrance that reminds him of you. Additionally, you include a cozy blanket you've often shared on movie nights and a couple of your favorite books he has shown interest in. You hope these familiar items will create a sense of warmth and closeness, even in your physical absence.

On your way to his house, you stop by the store and pick up a video game that he’s been wanting but has always been too busy to grab and play. Once you secure it, you continue to his house, hoping this small gesture will brighten his day. When you walk up to the house, you are greeted by Nicholas with a warm smile. He steps aside and lets you in, welcoming you with a friendly, reassuring nod. As you go to Noah’s room, you exchange greetings with the others in the house, receiving sympathetic looks and encouraging words. The familiar surroundings and friendly faces bolster your resolve as you approach Noah’s door, ready to offer him the comfort and support he desperately needs.

With a gentle knock, you enter his room and are greeted by a messy space, clothes strewn about, and empty bottles scattered on the floor. Closing the door behind you, you step further into the room, spotting Noah lying in bed, his hair gently poking out from the cocoon he has rolled himself into. You carefully set everything down by his gaming chair, ensuring not to make too much noise. Quietly, you walk over to his bed and gently sit on the edge next to him, trying not to cause too much of a stir as the bed dips under your weight. You rake your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness under your touch, and he begins to stir slightly, a faint sign of awareness.

“Baby?” he murmurs slowly, sleep evident in his voice. You gently hum in response and watch as he slowly turns toward you. Your heart breaks a little when you see his face—heavy bags under his eyes and a look of brokenness that makes you want to cry. But you hold it together, giving him a small smile that he tries to return. Without warning, he pulls you down so that you are lying beside him, placing his head on your sternum and wrapping his arms tightly around your torso. You feel his grip, desperate and seeking comfort, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, hoping to provide the solace he needs.

As you hear sniffling, your shirt starts to feel damp. You rub little circles on his back and let him cry, offering silent comfort. His body trembles with each sob, and you can feel the weight of his sorrow pressing against you. “Why am I like this?” he asks, his voice cracking with pain and confusion. Your heart shatters at his words, the anguish in his question tearing at your soul. You hold him tighter, wishing you could somehow absorb his hurt and make it disappear.

"It's okay, baby," you whisper, your voice soothing and steady. "Everyone goes through tough times. It's not your fault." You continue to rub his back, the repetitive motion a small but comforting gesture. His grip on you tightens as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. "You're not alone," you murmur, kissing the top of his head. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He cries harder, the dam of his emotions entirely breaking, and you can feel the full force of his despair. You just hold him, knowing that sometimes words aren't enough, and the best thing you can do is be there, offering your unwavering support and love. "We'll get through this together," you promise, your voice filled with conviction. "One step at a time."

As time passed, his sobs lessened, gradually becoming soft sniffles. You continued to hold him, your fingers gently caressing his back, until he finally calmed down. Once he was done crying, he lifted his head and looked at you with red, tear-stained eyes. “I love you to the moon and back,” he murmured, his voice tender and filled with emotion.

You leaned down and gently kissed him, pouring all your love and reassurance into that moment. "I love you more than anything," you whispered back, your words a heartfelt promise. He nestled back into your arms, and you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, both finding solace in the shared silence.

“What’s in the bags?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, causing you to giggle.

"I brought you some surprises," you say with a smile. You gently extricate yourself from his embrace and reach over to the bags you had placed by his gaming chair. "One of these is full of your favorite sweets, treats, and drinks," you explain, pulling out a bag of his favorite candies and a bottle of his preferred soda. "I know how much you love these."

He watches with a faint smile as you continue. "And in this bag," you say, lifting the second tote, "are some things to make you feel more comfortable." You pull out the stuffed animal he won for you at the carnival, now freshly sprayed with your signature scent. "I thought this might help you feel a little better," you say, handing it to him. 

You also pull out a cozy blanket and two books you love. "And I made a stop on the way here," you add, pulling out the video game he's been wanting. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "You always know how to make things better."

You smile and give him another kiss. "That's what I'm here for," you say softly. He sits up entirely and stretches, the tension in his body starting to ease. Getting up, he pulls you into a warm hug, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

Eventually, Noah lets go and turns his attention to the bags. With a newfound energy, he starts pulling everything out, his eyes lighting up with each item. "This is amazing," he says, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he inspects the sweets, treats, and stuffed animals.

When he gets to the video game, his excitement is palpable. "I can't believe you got this!" he exclaims, looking at you with gratitude and joy. "This is exactly what I needed."

You smile, feeling a warmth in your heart at seeing him so happy. "I thought we could have a fun-filled night," you say. "We can play the game, eat some snacks, and relax together."

Noah nods eagerly, his earlier sadness starting to fade. "That sounds perfect," he says, and you can see the spark of his old self returning. 

As he sets up the game, you both make yourselves comfortable on his bed, surrounded by the remnants of the snacks you brought. After a little while of playing together, you decide to take a break and opt to watch him for a while. Grabbing the blanket you brought over, you drape it over yourselves for extra coziness. You also grab one of the books from the bag, intending to take turns between reading and watching him play. As he navigates through the game, you find yourself engrossed in the story, occasionally glancing up to see his reactions to different challenges or victories.

You offer verbal support whenever he encounters challenging situations, your words of encouragement ringing out in the room, echoing his determination to overcome obstacles. When he finally manages to defeat a particularly demanding boss, you can't help but join in his celebration, the room filled with shared laughter and triumphant cheers as you revel in his success together.

As the night wears on and the hour grows later, Noah decides to take a break from gaming and suggests transitioning to a movie instead. With a smile, he guides you to the bed, where you both settle in comfortably amidst the plush blankets and pillows, sinking into a cocoon of warmth and relaxation. Noah orders a pizza, ensuring it's topped with all your favorite ingredients, and arranges an array of snacks and drinks within arm's reach, creating a cozy haven for the two of you to enjoy. The room is enveloped in the comforting aroma of freshly baked pizza, and the soft glow of the screen casts a warm light as you snuggle up together.

Observing Noah's mood shifting more positively fills your heart with relief and happiness. The weight of his earlier struggles seems to dissipate, replaced by a lightness and ease that brings a genuine smile to both your faces. In this moment, surrounded by superficial pleasures and each other's company, you find solace in the shared moments of peace and contentment. As the movie plays softly in the background, you both sink deeper into the comfort of the bed, the warmth of each other's presence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. The worries and stresses of the outside world fade away, leaving only the tranquility of the present moment.

Eventually, the day's fatigue catches up with you both, and you find yourselves drifting off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. The soft rhythm of your breathing syncs harmoniously, creating a symphony of peace that washes over you both, carrying you into a restful slumber filled with nothing but serenity and love.

[sugarbooger513]

My Little Muse...

I'm resurrecting my blog god damn it. I've been obsessing over DBD (especially the killers). I decided to start with one of my favorite people's favorite killers as a comfort... But be ready for smut >:)

Word Count: 1.4k

Content warning: Jake is a dick, no it is not canon 100 percent, mentions of death, murder, blood, it's based off of a horror game.

Reminder that I do have a taglist. If you'd like to be added it is on my pinned post, and I will provide the link here

The generator sparks a few times, showing promise. You can hear Dwight let out a sigh of relief. 

“How many are left? Two?” 

Before you can answer, Jake does. “Something like that. I think Meg is still-” 

All at once, your fingers slip on the wire and the generator gives that loud bang that alerts everyone in the swamp. 

Jake instantly turns to you, yelling loudly. “What the fuck, Y/N?!” 

“I-I didn’t-” 

“You just lead that damn killer this way! Are you stupid?! You better fucking take chase so the rest of us can get out!” 

“Hey!” Dwight is quick to growl at Jake and his explosive attitude. “Calm down, we all mess up the generators from time to time.. Oh shit, quiet!” 

Your body shakes as you crouch, slowly walking with Dwight. It doesn’t take long for you to see the killer of today’s trial. The Oni, Kazan Yamaoka, stands with his back to you. Behind his broad shoulders, his long, white hair blows behind him. In a way, a very terrifying way, it’s beautiful. 

“Y/N, stay quiet..” Dwight reaches towards you, gently grabbing your hand to comfort you. “Get to another generator, I’ll take chase.” 

“What?!” You hiss at him. “Dwight, you’re a smart man, don’t do something so stupid! Oni is ruthless!” 

“You’re better at the generators, and I’ve been in these trials since the start.. Let me deal with him.” He smiles kindly at you, as he always does. Even at the campfire, he’s the first survivor to smile at you like that. “Go. I’ll see you when this is over, okay?” 

He doesn’t give you time to argue, and he instead gets up from where he’s crouched. He flashes his flashlight at Oni, catching the killer’s attention. Dwight’s eyes widen and he takes off in a sprint. 

You swear the ground even shakes with fear as Oni runs by your hiding spot. When the heartbeat in your ears calms down, you stand up and start to walk towards the next generator. 

It takes everything in you to ignore the blood curdling scream that you hear. 

You hit your knees as soon as you get to the generator. Luckily for you, this had already been worked on. Ignoring the splash of blood across the metal, you rip open the flap that holds the wires. 

Your hands tremble as you grab two wires. No no.. don’t listen don’t listen.. I can’t let Jake’s dumbass get in my head.. All four of us will get out.. We will we.. we.. 

Tears form in your eyes as the generator starts to roar to life. Somewhere in the distance, another scream is heard, along with the all too familiar rumble of the entity claiming someone else. 

The generator turns on, flashing a bright light as the alarm goes off, signaling that the exit gate can be opened. However, you just sink to the ground. Finally, the tears you were holding back start to drip down your face. One turns into two, which turns into waterfalls cascading down your cheeks. 

You don’t even bother to move when your heart starts to pound. 

You can hear heavy breathing directly behind you, even hear the soft dripping of blood as it falls from him and onto the grass below. 

Despite your trembling, you turn your head up and meet his glowing red eyes from behind his mask. The burgundy mask only serves to make his eyes that much more intimidating. 

However, all he does is stand in front of you, staring. He doesn’t even lift his sword. 

What is he doing? 

There’s no point in running, no point in fighting. He will catch you, and there’s no doubt that he will win. You do the only logical thing you can do in this situation. More tears stream down and you find yourself bowing, hoping that he’ll hook you quickly and get it over with. 

However, it never comes. The Oni lifts his blade and places it back in his sheathe. 

“..Sit up.” His voice is ragged, tired even. You quickly follow his instructions, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. 

His large hand comes down, gently wiping a tear from your face. “I did not cause this.. Who?” 

“..You can talk?” 

If you didn’t think you were crazy before, you certainly are now because you swear he chuckles at your stupid question. “Of course.. But most of the time I am.. Working. Now, why the tears?” 

“I.. It’s stupid. Why aren’t you putting me on a hook?” 

“Would you like me to do that? I’m sure it hurts.” 

“No! No I.. you just.. Are you showing mercy?” 

“You ask a lot of questions to a killer..” 

“..right.. One of the other survivors got mad at me for screwing up a generator. I did it one time! I’ve covered his ass in so many trials and it just.. Well it isn’t a good time for me either..” 

He clears his throat a bit and hums. “Yes I could uh.. Smell that.” 

Your face instantly goes hot in embarrassment. “E-excuse me?! You could smell it?!” 

“..My entire thing is going into a blood fury.. Do you assume I can’t smell a woman’s menstrual cycle?” 

Somehow, your face goes even hotter. “..Okay you might have a point..” 

“Besides, I used to be considered human. I’ve been around women, and there are little things you do to hint when you’re on your cycle. The random crying doesn’t help your case.” 

“It wasn’t random! Jake was being an ass and I’m tired of it! ..I’m just.. Tired.” 

“..I understand. The entity is ruthless, but at least dying in a trial doesn’t mean staying dead. You’ll see your friends at your campfire.” 

“I guess so.. So,” you stand up now, sighing, “I guess time is up? Go ahead and hook me.. I can’t outrun you anyways.” 

He sighs, now bending down a bit to pick you up bridal style. You gasp, but don’t fight. In fact, you find yourself leaning into his broad chest. The warmth that radiates from his body soothes your aches and pains, and brings comfort to your exhausted mind. 

“..Don’t get too comfortable. We’re almost to the hatch.” 

“Hatch?! You’re.. Why are you letting me leave?” 

He hums, not looking at you as he walks. “Your day has been enough hell. A hook on you won’t make me feel good anyways.” 

“Do.. do all of the killers have that same mindset?” 

“Not at all, but most of us certainly have our favorites out of you survivors. Now, whether that means they get mercy or even more brutality is dependent on the killer.” 

“..Does this mean I’m your favorite, Oni?” 

He snorts a bit. “I certainly enjoyed slicing your friends.. Especially the one who made you cry. He died by my hand this trial.” 

Your eyes widen. “So.. you knew?” 

“I had my eye on you the entire time, little prey. You just didn’t know it.” 

“B-but.. How?” 

“I chased you in the start and let you stun me with that pallet. After that, you were oblivious to my terror radius for some time. It gave me plenty of time to chase down that other girl and then find you.” 

You sink back into his hold, pondering his words. “That’s.. Incredible.. And terrifying.” 

“Good. It should be. Now,” he gently sets you on your feet, motioning to the open hatch, “get out of here. Go make sure your friends are back to the campfire.” 

“..Thank you, Oni.” You smile at him, feeling a bit lighter than you have all day.

“..Please, call me Kazan.. When it’s just us, of course.” 

You nod. “Okay, Kazan. Thank you.” You finally sit down, ready to push yourself into the hatch when he speaks again. 

“Oh, little prey, one last thing.” When you look up, you’re shocked to see him removing his mask. HIs eyes glow that crimson color still, but it seems a touch more dull against his skin color. He grins, revealing his sharp canines and almost scarily perfect smile. 

“Do keep this a secret.. I’d hate for my favorite prey to become someone else’s muse..” 

Taglist:  @katgalle, @kentosovertime, @roughwithfluff, @xxblissfullxx, @unordinaryolivia

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 2)

My brain won't shut up about this, I like it, and others seem to like it as well. I'm so happy people seem to like my stuff!

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Stalking, Idol Worship, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🎥Today was the day! Apparently, Welcome Home has become beloved enough that someone has decided to interview some of the producers, directors, and cast. Cast including the puppeteers, which means you.

🎥 To be honest, you never really liked being on camera. That isn't to say you didn't like being a puppeteer! No, no, no! You LOVE your job. You love Wally, Home, every character in the neighborhood. You would just rather be behind the scenes. So, this interview is a little daunting.

🎥 When everything is all prepared, you look around the room. Every other puppeteer is sitting with their puppets, just like you are with Wally. Currently, you are all just waiting for the interviewer to finish up with the producers and camera crew. There's been punch laid out and everything for them. It seems like the boss really wanted to make a good first impression with whoever has come in.

🎥 Home is right next to you, with your chair positioned right beside it. It's pretty big, simply because there has to be a couple different versions of it. Ones that fit hand puppets perfectly through the front door and ones that fit the walk around puppets. The larger of the two versions of Home is next to you, with the smaller Home on a table near the title card set.

🎥 Everyone is chatting about their memories making the show, from funny trips that Eddie's puppeteer has made to the improve comedy that Barnaby's puppeteer has come up with for his skits. Everyone is having a jolly good time, except for you. You have this odd feeling like something is going on. Like something is wrong.

🎥 You look down to the little puppet of Wally, which you have nearly sat upon your lap. Ever since the odd incident with storing him away, you have been a bit more protective of him. You don't want him to be messed up. Improperly storing him could result in him being misshapen, so finding out that someone messed with him was alarming.

🎥 Worse yet, though, is that ever since that little incident... you have been feeling like someone is watching you during work. Then there's the colorful letters and drawings you have been getting. Every single one of them has been found on your desk in the storage area for props related to Wally. The language used in the letters are childish and cutesy, such as saying "If you were an apple, you would be the most sparkly and red one, because you are the most!" Every drawing is drawn entirely in crayon, with paint splatters here and there...

🎥 The interviewer comes in, saving you from your own anxious thoughts, as he waves to everyone. He introduces himself, fixing his black suit as he speaks in a formal manner. "Good evening, everyone. I apologize for the delay. Your boss was so excited to tell us about the plans and passion behind this show, I couldn't help but ask him many questions. Now, lets begin."

🎥 It takes a while, but soon, the interviewer gets to you. He asks you simple questions, such as what inspired you to become a puppeteer and what drew you into working on Welcome Home. You give the best answers you could provide, before he asks one that really intrigues you.

🎥"I have heard from some of the production and directing crew that you care a lot about Wally as a character, as well as puppet care. What exactly is it about Wally that you like? What made you want to play him?"

🎥 You couldn't help but grin, explaining everything you loved about Wally as a character. You talk about how he interacts with the audience, small quirks he has and how they are displayed on the show, and even pick him up to go over his character design.

🎥 One sentence you say suddenly makes your brain click in an odd way. The second you let the words "Wally lives to draw art for the viewer of the viewer, due to having a deep appreciation for their kindness" leave your lips, you can't help but remember all of the weird drawings of you you have been finding on your desk recently. You keep talking, though, in the hopes that the memory will just go away for now.

🎥 The drawings can wait. The letters can wait. All that you really want to talk and think about right now is how much this show means to you, as well as how proud of your coworkers you are for helping everyone make Welcome Home as popular as is it. Maybe this interview isn't going as bad as you thought it would?

🎥 You are so invested in talking and answering questions, in fact, that you neglect to notice how Wally seems to subtly curl into your touch. Then again, no one else seems to, either.

[tinydefector]

Till all are one

The fic I did for the poll I did a few days ago because I wanted to make some angst for optimus.

I will do another poll in the future, and my poll fics are mainly going to be my own ideas for characters outside of the request.

Word count: 3k

Warning: fluffy, angst, death of reader

Optimus Prime x Human

Optimus prime Masterlist

____________

Soft eyes watch Optimus from a distance as he sits outside helm tilted towards the stars, blue optics glowing in the darkness of night, the deep whirl and clicking of his mechanic can be heard.

Optimus' optical sensors slowly dimmed offline as weighted thoughts drifted through his mind. The stars above shone as they had on that distant world so long ago, yet their familiar patterns could not dull the ache in his spark. 

Their steps crunch the dirt and grass as they walk to join him, not wanting to alarm him they call out. "Can't sleep?" His audials detected soft footfalls nearby, Turning. He was unsurprised to find his small human friend joined him under the night sky. The human ask while moving to sit on the bolder beside Optimus, and they shoot him a soft smile. "What's on your mind, Optimus?" The familiar face drew the faintest smile across his own face as he rumbled softly, "Rest eludes me, it seems."

Gazing once more to the glittering heavens, he vented slowly. "Cybertron. My home. So much has changed since last I walked her metallic plains and gazed upon the gleaming Towers of Iacon. I never thought such little time on earth would make me miss home so much. I miss my mentor. " Memories flickered of mentors, friends, comrades, all lost to vorns of conflict. 

"Codexa," he said quietly, almost to himself. "My teacher, my guide. I find myself wondering if I honour her teachings as I should or have strayed too far down my own path." His optics glowed faintly as ages-old lessons warred with the grim demands of war. Some burdens, it seemed, even starlight could not lift, nor ease his aching spark.

Their eyes linger on him for a moment. "Your mentor? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about a mentor, I thought you bots were just kinda built ready to fight, " they state while watching him. They watch the way his optics flicker to different stars. He looks tired, almost sad.

Optimus glanced down at his companion, realizing he'd never spoken to them of his earlier life. "It is true most Cybertronians are functionally programmed from the moment of sparking," he rumbled quietly. "But for those who aspired to roles beyond the norm, mentorship was invaluable." 

Memories of those long-ago days surfaced once more as he spoke. "Codexa was an archivist, one who chronicled our world's history and shared knowledge with all who sought it. When I expressed interest in governance and diplomacy, she took me as her protégé and taught me much of what it means to lead. She taught me so much"

A smile ghosted his faceplates as small details came back to him. "She had a way with words. She believed the surest path to peace was understanding other perspectives. Some days, i wonder if that's the reason she became one with Cybertron. " His tone grew distant. 

"Without her guidance, i wouldn't be who I am today, I fear many mistakes were made during the war, made by my own hands . All I can do now is try to follow the wisdom she instilled." His optics rose once more to the stars, as if searching for answers among their eternal patterns.

"What was she like?, she sounds rather sweet if your her protege."

Optimus vented softly at the memory of her. "Codexa possessed a kind and patient spark. Nothing gave her greater joy than helping others, whether through sharing knowledge or lending an audio in times of need."

A faint smile warmed his stoic features. "She was taller than most Archivists, with plating the shining silver-blue of circuitry filaments. And her optics... like pools of molten mercury, taking in all yet revealing little of her own depths. She had a way of listening with her entire being."

"She was taller than you?" They ask with a tilted head.

"She was much taller than me. I only reached the top of her chassis." he chuckles softly. His gaze grew distant as scenes from long ago played across his memory files. "Codexa saw value in all. It grieved her to see our world so divide." 

Slowly, Optimus turned to them. Venting softly, "I miss her a lot. But taking her teachings to spark helps, but i miss her voice. However dark it may sometimes seem, she always knew how to solve things."

They move slowly, hoping from the rock to his knee plating, pulling themself up as they stand there, hands moving to press softly against his faceplate. "You can't change the past Optimus, learn from it, don't repeat it. Humans sadly haven't learnt that, we are on the verge of another war between ourselves too. So all I can say is, once the war for your planet is over, help others learn from the mistakes you made. You can't grow without mistakes" they state while smiling at him softly. It makes Optimus spark clench, they reminded him to much of so many their wisdom of Codexa, love for what they did reminded him of senator Shockwave and their spirit and drive reminded him of Megatron from before the war.

Optimus' optics glowed warmly as small hands offered what comfort they could against the ache of loss and regret. He lifted a great servo, cradling their slight form with utmost care.

"You speak wisdom far beyond your years, little one. My kind would do well to heed such counsel one day." His rumbling voice held an edge of solemn promise. "When at last this long war ends, i would be honoured to show you Cybertron as you have earth." He states softly, Gazing down at their upturned face, Optimus saw reflections of dear ones lost but never forgotten Codexa's compassion, Shockwave's vision of unity, Megatron's original desire to lift all from oppression. And he took comfort, knowing such virtues lived on through those who carried them in spark, no matter the shell. 

"Thank you," he said softly. The two lay together on the dry grass as they looked up at the stars together. "You see that cluster of stars, that's the southern Cross, and that one there is Leo major, and Leo minor," they state while slowly pointing out different consolations. Optimus listened intently as small fingers traced constellations across the sweeping tapestry above. Though his database contained information on Earth's night skies, somehow, the guided tour felt different, more intimate.

"Fascinating," he rumbled softly. "The patterns you organics can discern amongst them is similar to our own." Slowly, his arm rose, a single digit extended to gently point. "And that collection there - if I am not mistaken, you call it Orion. Its placement near your winter skies is fitting."  His voice, though deep, held a gentle warmth matched in the faint bluish glow emanating from his massive frame. Looking down at his small companion, he vented softly.

"Yea, that Orion belt didn't think you would know that one," they giggle as they lay their head against his chassis. Listening to the soft lure of his spark, a soft rumble of laughter emanated from Optimus' chest as he looked down at their silly delight. "Indeed, that particular constellation carries significance beyond mere astronomical fact," he said, tone warming with fond memory.

"When first I underwent the Ceremony of Namegiving as an initiate in the Halls of Iacon, Codexa guided my attention there, to the mighty hunter eternally aiming bow across the galaxy." One massive finger drew graceful lines to connect the three bright stars. 

His optics dimmed briefly in solemn remembrance of his dear mentor and the young innocence of those long-ago days. But gazing once more to the stars, he continued gently, "So in a sense I know the great hunter well, Orion was my namesake and guide, my first gift from Codexa.” Their eyes widen, and their mouth opens slightly in shock before they utter lightly. "She named you, Orion?" They ask ever so softly while looking up into his optics.

Optimus gazed down at the small form nestled against his chestplates, surprise and gentle understanding in his optics. "Indeed, Orion Pax was the name given me by Codexa on the orn of my emergence, as is Cybertronian tradition," he replied in a quiet rumble. 

His massive digits moved to tenderly cradle their slighter form, radiating comfort. "It has been many stellar cycles since I walked under that designation. But some part of that young archivist's spark remains within this frame, however changed by war and duty."

"Hunter of peace, how fitting," they hum softly, listening to the gentle pulse of his spark.

"Indeed," he rumbled softly. "Codexa saw potential where others did not." Optics gazing skyward once more, he traced with one finger the outline of that eternal hunter taking aim. "Perhaps in naming me Orion, she sensed her teachings would carry through the stellar cycles - that I would become not only a warrior, but a guardian of peace, a seeker of understanding among all peoples."  

Venting softly, his field radiated quietly. "It is a legacy I strive to honour through each choice and action. However, the tides of war may seem to turn."

"Orion, I believe in you, I know its not much from a human, but I know some day you'll get to see Cybertron in her glory once again, maybe not the same but you'll get to go home one day I can feel it in my bones" they hum softly.

Optimus' optics glowed with gratitude at the simple yet earnest words of support from his dear friend. "Your faith means more to this old warrior than you can know," he rumbled softly. 

Massive fingers traced gentle patterns against their back as his field radiated warmth. "Through vorns of conflict, it has often been the courage and compassion of smaller souls." he leans down and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. Gazing once more to the starry sky stretching peacefully and eternal above, he vented quietly. "Some stellar cycles, the dream of Cybertron healed, seem remote as those distant lights. But you give me hope."

Slowly, a hint of smile tipped his stoic faceplates. "And perhaps, when that orn comes to pass swiftly, you and yours shall witness its splendour of my own planet”

their prediction was true. He had made it back to Cybertron. New Cybertron. Yet it left him feeling hollow. That memory plays over in his mind often. Their smile, eyes filled with so much hope, hope for a world they never got to see. So close yet so far away. He holds their cold body as he walks the long trails to the heart of Cybertron. To where Codexa and the shines of others he had lost.

Each silent footfall fell heavy as the aged mechanism whined as they carried Optimus through the gleaming, unfamiliar canyons of New Cybertron. Though his optics beheld grandeur rebuilt from eons of ruin, within only emptiness echoed. 

He reached the sanctuary composed of monument and memorial. Gently, with infinite care and sorrow, Optimus laid his precious burden at the base beside so many others given in sacrifice. Small fingers, long since stilled.

He knelt beside the slight form, optics dimming as memory files surged forth - of shared worlds beneath starlight, and dreams of a peace finally wrested from madness and conflict. His digits gently trace their face.

"Orion, you have come to visit me"

Codexa's voice echoes glitchy but her form doesn't move from its spot.

Orion started gently at the familiar voice resonating through the crystalline sanctuary. Turning, he beheld Codexa's shimmering form slowly coalescing from the connecting filaments, her energy signature merging into a luminous projection.

"Codexa," he replied softly, optics glowing with warmth and ache of remembered joys mingled with the vorns past. Slowly, he knelt before her luminous presence, great head bowed in respect and sorrowful remembrance.

"It has been long indeed since last we spoke," he continued gently. Lifting his gaze once more, hints of bittersweet smile ghosted his stoic faceplates. "I come only to pay respects to you and those whose lights have rejoined the Allspark, leaving this someone dear to me."

"Who do you lay with me?"

She asked softly over the figure being laid before her, the human who had passed before getting to see Cybertron in her glory.

"A dear friend who saw me through darkness you could not imagine, they mean more to me than i can put into words," rumbled Optimus gently. "One whose brief spark brought light to this weary warrior when all seemed lost, i wish they got to see Cybertron, but now this is the best i can offer them."

With infinite care and sorrow, he reached to cradle the small still form in massive servos, gazing upon stilled features. Turning optics of fading glow upward once more, he continued softly, "This one gave hope in hours where none seemed possible, helped this old soldier recall why your lessons must never fade, you would have enjoyed talking with them."

Venting softly, memory files surged of innocence resting secure in his palm so long ago. " their heart was young, within a beat of courage to out shine stars. Now decay has claimed what war and time could not. But their light, as yours, have been a gift to me"

Optimus bowed his head. His mentor's tall frame was barely more than flickering lines of code now, held intact solely by the crystal lattice connecting aged components. But through the still-functioning optics' dim glow, he sensed her familiar soothing energy fields reach out to envelop his own in quiet solace. 

"I will guard them as I have many before"

Beside Codexa's resting place, the severed halves of Senator Shockwave plating also lay shrouded by millennia, their vibrancy lost to the eons but memory intact within Optimus' archives.

Reaching out briefly to caress a crumbling digit in farewell, Optimus turned last to the slight form now cradled into eternal recharge among these guardians of his spark. Small and fragile in death as in life. Venting softly, he spoke words meant for audials long since fallen silent. "Until all are one. Rest now, beloved friends" 

His optics glowed with promise as he finished his solemn duty, then rose and turned to walk on, as always, beneath the stars shining endlessly on.

"Thank you, Carrier," he calls softly.

_________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

[ambrosiagoldfish]

First time requesting anything sooo let me know if I get anything wrong but,,, could I request some dragon!reader x Venti (Genshin Impact) fluff ? Dragon in like... The way that Zhongli is with a dragon and a humanoid form. let me know if I should send another ask with anything additional,,

Draconic Inquiries

Venti x Dragon! Reader

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and Gn! Reader!

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1634

A/N: Hi, thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long! There was a lot of hiccups that came up this past week, but I’m happy to finally have had gotten to finishing this!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a Fluff Fic or head-canons so I did both! I would have asked you but I was already upset that it took this long to write, so I decided not to! I also wrote it to be romantic! I hope this is ok! If not, just shoot me another request and I’ll make you a new one!!

Proofread but of course I could have missed something.

He was first introduced to you via The Traveler, and right away he could tell something about you reminded him a lot of that "old block-head" as Venti so eloquently puts it. Of course, you weren’t anything like Zhongli, but there were some very similar aspects between the two of you at a more biological level.

It didn't take him long to figure it out though, despite his carefree and lovable nature, he is quite perceptive. He could tell from the power imitating from you, that you weren't some regular run of the mill Allogene. The power that you gave off wasn't exactly like his or even most of the other archons it was more… Pure? Something more undisturbed than most elemental beings.

Whatever you were, he wasn't sure if you were open about it, Him, being an Archon, would make him relate to you regarding hiding the truth about yourself, if that is the case. So he decided to ask you about it alone. You were a bit hesitant at first to outright admit it, especially to a person who seemed so interested. Being an Elemental beast, were able to sense an alarming amount of Anemo Energy coming from this short drunkard bard, way too much to just be some regular mortal.

When you finally reveal yourself to be a dragon, he's honestly pretty excited. He's only ever met 4 dragons in his 2600+ year life span, Zhongli, who was just annoyed by any questions he would ask, Dvalin, who, despite being one of his closest friends, is also annoyed by many of his drunken inquiries. Durin and Ursa the Drake tried destroying Mondstadt so they were definitely not an option... So he's been dying to ask a vishap some questions.

And Immediately they started

"Dragon's have hoards, right? Surely there has to be a teensy bit of fine wine there? No? Darn it..."

"Can you breathe fire?!"

"Is it true that dragon's are scared of mice? Eh... Wait! no! That's Elephants. Nevermind!"

It was quite a lot to process and answer them all in time before he went on to the next question. Eventually he seemed to run out of them, that or he saw how distressed you were trying to keep up.

"That's enough questions for today, Ehe! Next time we should have our conversation over a nice cold glass of cider!"

"Next time?"

Venti then, from that day forward, had the two of you meeting up more and more, He would bring the drinks, both Alcoholic and Non-Alcoholic, depending on if you drink or not. and every time, Venti would somehow come up with more and more questions about your heritage, nonstop rambling of questions that would go from dusk till dawn. He seemed to never run out of them. But eventually he would start asking questions that weren't about your Draconic lifestyle. Things like,

"So Y/n, have you ever dated anyone before?"

"Hey Yn! Have you heard that the Windblume Festival is coming soon? Ehe, What do you think the original windblume was? Cecilia? Great choice!"

"Have you ever been to Windrise? It's the place with the huge tree! Huh? eh, You haven't? I'll make sure to show you sometime"

The Windblume festival finally comes around, the whole of Mondstadt was in a fury of unending joy, there were games, foods and deserts, the entire of the city’s buildings were all decorated in many different flowers and ribbons. Dandelions soared through the air, each one carrying the wish of a soul in Mondstadt.

The Day was fantastic, but it seems Venti had more energy to spend after the day's festivities, Venti drags you by the hand through the decorated city streets, past the vendor's shops, and over the bridge, all while you were blindfolded. Of course, you were a little scared being led through all these places without even knowing where exactly you were, but your elemental sense was top notch, not to mention your regular senses at that. So you knew you weren't in any real danger.

"Venti, this is a bit dramatic, even for you"

"Eh he… very funny Y/n, but we're almost there! Just a few more steps and... There!"

The pulling of your hand suddenly stops and Venti’s hand lets go of yours, with one quick motion the blindfold obscuring your eyes was snatched clean off. It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the sun beginning to set but even then being blindfolded caused even the slightest of light to sting your eyes.

Looking up, a big tree hung over you both, lying under the tree, just by the roots, was a checkered red and white blanket layed across the viridescent grass, a seemingly warnout picnic basket layed atop it. From where you stood you could make out a plethora of food and drinks, Pie, Dandelion wine, Apples. You certainly knew there was more, you could tell just from your sense of smell.

But the most notable feature about the fairytale esq scene in front of you was Venti, holding something, a bouquet of Ceclia’s

"These are what you believe to be the original Windblume right? I picked them myself so, rest assured! They’re guaranteed to be the best of quality, ehe!"

"Y/n, the time we’ve spent together these past few months have meant the world to me... Since the moment you arrived in Mondstadt, you’ve been tangled up in every thought of my mind, you've become all I can think about, my one and only worry, my muse, my... everything... What I'm trying to say is, Y/n, I love you and if you feel the same, could you continue being my muse?" His arms stretch slightly to you, offering you the bouquet in his hand.

Everything about this, the scenery, the way he asked, down to the golden hour from the sun, it was all so unforgettable. Your hands slowly move to grasp the Cecilia’s, bringing them up to your face and smelling them.

“Nothing would make me happier, Venti”

Venti’s eyes lit up, blush washed his face as a soft breeze quickly caried him over to you as he practically tackled you into his embrace, the sudden forces causes you both to spin in each others arms, all while Venti’s heartfelt laugh drowns out all other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” His voice grew louder with the repetition as a gleeful smile plastered on his face. He reaches back from his embrace, quickly grabbing his lyre and giving it a few test strums.

“The day isn’t over yet! Allow me to serenade you with a song I’ve made especially for you, my muse.”

And with that, you both continued to laugh and sing throughout the night. The sounds of the feverish festivities of you both echoed through Windrise, your love that would last for eons to come, dancing across the wind.

You both truly, couldn’t be happier.

HEADCANONS

Venti always makes sure that he’s always there for you when you aren’t your best mentally or physically. He cudddles you when your sad, listens to you when you’re upset. Overall he may be a loud bard but he’s also a great listener!

And speaking of cuddles he LOVES them. Since youre a dragon, your body temperature is a lot higher than humans, so he loves the warmth close to him. And if you ever decide to cuddle while IN dragon form then he wouldn’t let you leave for a while. (I also headcanon that since he’s a wind spirit, his body temperature isn’t that high so he’s often a little cold, so an S/o with a high body temperature would be perfect for him)

Regardless of if you can fly or not in dragon form, he loves to go on walks with you, and by “walks” I mean YOU do the walking and he just sits on your back. If you CAN fly than he’d be less of a koala and actually fly with you.

(You may have scared a few of the locals but love is love)

If there’s ever a time that you have to fight, either to protect him, yourself or something else, he will always have your back. Of course, him being a Wind Spirit and an Archon he has at least some power but after losing his Gnosis and him being demoted to the least powerful archon, he’s not incredibly strong. But you being a dragon seems to make up for his lack of power. The times you’ve saved him from some lowly fatuus trying to ambush him, he really couldn’t be more thankful.

He’s really into PDA (no surprise there) so kisses, handholding, etc are all commonplace. He's also always bringing you gifts like food. He’s not much of a baker, but he’d try to make anything for you that you’d want. (Just uh… don’t expect it to be anything spectacular)

Gifts he likes are Cider (obvi) and of course, Apples! You’d get him the finest of wines, (that’s totally not from your dragon hoard, because you are TOTALLY not that kind of dragon •-•^) and he would love them more each time.

He would eventually introduce you to Dvailn (it’s his best bud so it’s a given you’d meet him eventually) and Zhongli who he thought you two might have something in common with.

Overall, having a dragon S/o is one of the best things to happen to him (Tied only with that time Diluc accidentally left his wine cellar unlocked) He’s always wanting to learn more about you and loves spending time with you!

[vastill]

I love you Rebecca Welton fics🩷

So maybe a Rebecca Welton Fic where reader and her have been married for a while but no one quite believes it until reader shows up to drop off pinch for Rebecca?

Forgotten lunch

Rebecca Welton/fem!reader

warnings: fluff

words: 1700+

My requests are open!!

English is not my first language!

A/N: firstly, i love your request, and thank you for sending it! and secondly, im really sorry, my brain read your request a little differently but I hope you will like it! hope you will enjoy reading it! let me know what you think!!💚

Rebecca Welton always wanted to have an aura of secrecy around her. Sharing every aspect of her life with others was not for her. After a messy divorce from Rupert, she learned even more about living in secrecy. She didn't want to experience another drama in her life, and she certainly didn't want the press meddling in her private affairs again, so she decided to keep some things to herself. However, as the owner of a football club, it wasn't easy, as it involved many plans and rules she had to follow.

Rebecca's daily schedule remained consistent. Each morning, she had to go through her ritual to ensure she didn't forget anything important. Being an early riser, she would often admire her partner's sleeping face before the alarm went off. Despite her demanding job, Rebecca always made time for you. Mornings were her favorite moments, a brief shared moment of lying in bed and cuddling before she went to get ready for the day. During this time, you would go downstairs to prepare breakfast for both of you and pack lunch for Rebecca. Remote work had the perk that you could spend most of the day in your pyjamas without worrying about anything.

“How can you look this gorgeous so early in the morning?” You asked when she came downstairs in all her glory. She grabbed you by the hand and tugged you for the sweetest kiss. “I don’t know, how can you look this cute in your pyjamas?” She laughed when you scoffed and kissed your nose.

“Well, not everyone is the owner of a football club, baby. So I need to pull off my pajamas look.”

“And you do it perfectly darling,” she smiled and beckoned you closer to her, “I love seeing you like this. It’s a shame that I need to go to work.” She said while her hands went under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

“Someone is clingy today. You sure you can’t stay today?” You asked, internally knowing the answer but there was no harm in asking, maybe one day she would agree.

Rebecca sighed, leaning her head on your chest and hugging you tightly, “No, sorry sweetheart. I can’t, I have some meetings today but I promise I will be home for dinner.” The two of you stood in your embrace for a little while, taking this moment of calmness.

“Oh fuck,” you heard Rebecca silently murmur before quickly getting up. “I need to go, otherwise I will be late. Have a good day, I love you!” she shouted as she left the house. As she opened the door, you noticed her packed lunch sitting on the counter. “Wait, love! You forgot your...” The door closed before you could finish the sentence, “...lunch.”

You pondered for a moment about what to do with the lunch box. Your initial thought was to bring her lunch to work, but since no one knew about your relationship, you weren't sure if Rebecca wanted them to know. However, you had made her favorite dish, and you knew she was craving it, so not having it today would surely ruin her mood. Ultimately, you decided to send her a text and wait for her response.

Hi, love! You forgot your lunch from home and I know you have been craving this meal so what do you want me to do with it? I think I'll put it in the fridge and it'll be waiting for you. Missing you already xx

Rebecca got to work without being a minute late. She sat in her office and checked her phone, seeing your message she searched her purse, “Shit!”

“Hello to you too, Boss!” she saw Ted standing in her office with his usual box of biscuits in hand. “Sorry, Ted. Yes, good morning.” She said with a tight smile.

“Got up on the wrong side of the bed? Maybe these will help.” Ted said, handing her the box.

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing one of the biscuits, “I just forgot my lunch at home. It was a tasty lunch, so I’m a little upset.”

“Maybe you can send someone to grab it for you? I don’t mind going there if you want me to. It’s not like I have many things to do today.” Ted offered.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I think I have an idea. But back to work, do you have something you want to talk about?” she asked while texting you.

I didn’t even notice! You and your pyjamas distracted me! But I thought maybe you could come here and drop it. And if you are not busy, have lunch with me in my office? That would be very nice. Love you xx

Yeah, of course! When do you want me to be there?

Around two? How does that sound?

I’ll be there! I can’t wait! xx

Rebecca was nervous, not because she was ashamed of who she was or her relationship, but because she wanted to protect her and your privacy. And you coming here wasn’t something that she expected to do. But she was also excited. She wanted you to be in all parts of her life and perhaps introduce you to some of her friends at AFC Richmond if you were up for it.

As two o'clock approached, Rebecca paced in her office. The door swung open, and she turned around to see Keeley standing there. Although she felt disappointed, she didn't show it on her face.

“Hey! I need to tell you all about this new staff at my office. He is getting on my nerves so bad!” Keeley said, settling comfortably on the couch in Rebecca’s office. “You know, he is new but fucking hell he doesn’t know how to do anything. He broke the printer today! Printer, Rebecca! How does someone not know how to use the fucking printer!”

“Oh hey, yes, I’m good, thanks for asking. And no, you are not interrupting.” Rebecca said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Don't tell me you're busy. I saw you pacing!” Keeley exclaimed. Another person appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Ted! Come here, maybe you have some gossip to share!” she shouted from the couch.

I’m here. Do I just go straight in or do I need to do something?

Go straight in, when you reach the stairs you need to go up and there is my office.

Rebecca didn’t know what to do. You will be here any minute, and she is not alone.

FYI Ted and Keeley are here in my office.

Oh. Do you not want me to go there? I mean I can ask someone to bring you lunch.

Don’t be silly, come here. I want you to meet them. I want you to be a part of this family I have here <3

Okay, give me a second, I love you xx

“Who are you texting? Me and Ted are here so..did you finally meet someone?” Keeley asked, and Rebecca could only smile. She saw you standing in the hallway and beckoned you inside. “Who is there? Are we inviting more people to the gossip group?” Keeley said, but Rebecca wasn’t listening to her anymore.

You shyly stepped into the office, stealing a glance at Keeley and Ted before waving at them. They looked at you with confusion, unsure of who you were. But before you could speak, Rebecca embraced you in a hug. “I’m so happy you are here, darling,” Rebecca whispered in your ear. After releasing the hug, her hand remained on your waist. “Thank you for bringing me lunch, I know I promised you to eat together but I didn’t expect to have company." She said, giving a narrowed look to the two individuals on the couch.

“You didn’t tell me you are bringing a hot date here! So that’s not my fault!” Keeley exclaimed. She quickly introduced herself, saying, “Hi, I’m Keeley, Rebecca’s best friend, and you are?”

You smiled at her, “Hi, I’m Y/N, Rebecca’s-“ You glanced at Rebecca, and she nodded, so without hesitation, you continued, “wife.” The two of you exchanged smiles as you noticed their confused expressions. You couldn't help but feel a rush of joy as you saw the surprise on their faces.

“Wait a moment, did I hear correctly? You said wife, didn't you? I mean my hearing isn't as good as it used to be, but surely it can't be that bad. Or maybe I imagined it?” Ted questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he nervously rubbed his ear, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.

Rebecca laughed lightly at his surprise, nodding in affirmation. “Yes, Ted, you heard me correctly. She is my wife, it will be two years soon.” Rebecca confirmed with a gentle smile, her fingers tenderly squeezing your side for reassurance.

Keeley seemed to get out of her confused stage, “I knew you were a little fruity but WIFE! And you didn’t tell me! I’m seriously offended!” she said, her voice filled with faux disapproval, “It will take a lot of hot gossips for me to forgive you!”

“I don’t know about hot gossip, but we definitely will have girls' night since you know who I am.” You said, a note of excitement creeping into your voice, “I'm sorry Ted, I can't make any promises about them letting you in, but just so you know, from my side, you're also invited!”

“Yes! Girls night! I always wanted to be invited to one!” He jumped into the air in his excitement, his fist pumping in victory.

The room filled with laughter as Ted looked like he'd just won the lottery, and even Keeley's initial surprise had faded, replaced with an eager grin. Rebecca and you both laughed at his excitement, “I'll look forward to it,” Rebecca said, a smile dancing on her lips.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through you as you watched Rebecca talk and laugh with her colleagues. It was a sight you didn’t get to see often. She caught your eye and winked at you, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

This was a new chapter in your life, and you both were ready for it. Rebecca was finally ready to let the world know about her love for you, ready to take on whatever came her way with you by her side.

[matenrou-fan]

Ooh! I have a funny request!

Could I request Lucifer, Mammon and Diavolo's s/o calling them "The most handsome demon" before running up to hug them in public?

Lucifer, Mammon and Diavolo's NB!s/o calling them "The most handsome demon" in public

ahhh this one is so cute..! >O<

NBreader, fluff, teasing, just wholesome stuff, something like a spoiler for Devilgram 'The Escorts' in small bonus;;

-Well.. he does like PDA with you, but sometimes the way you show your love for him can be so confusing.

-It's not a secret that he, as an avatar of Pride, loves when you compliment him or show your love in general, but he prefers to do all sweet things in private, where he also can show you all his affection.

-So when he hears your cheerful loud voice screaming something about the most handsome demon Lucifer gets kinda alarmed. There were too many strange accidents and stories with you in Devildom so his first thought was that you get into another goofy story somehow.

-Yet when he notices that you are running right in his direction with open arms it is too late. You already jump and embrace him, nuzzling your face in his chest.

-"Oh! And I was wondering what you were up to this time.. S/o, you do know I'm really busy right now..?" - Lucifer scoffs, trying acting cool yet actually feels tingling warmth spreading in his chest. He can't help but pat your head with a little smirk. - "Be more patient and wait when I will be free, so we can get quality time together, okay..? And don't you dare trying something like that with my brothers now.."

-He values his status as a strict collected demon so all these lovey-dovey things in public are not for him. If you want some affection from him right in front of everyone so badly, then Lucifer prefers more mature ways to show his love for you, touching your waist or holding your hand tightly, thumb caressing your knuckles.

-"If you want something more than you should ask nicely, darling.." - he smirks, noticing how you cling to him more. - "Or this is too much for you right now? Embarrassed to say it out loud?"

-Do you want to kill this man?!

-Mammon absolutely loves your affection, yet it's so hard for him not to actually admit it, but even receive, as he quickly starts blushing and giggling, getting too excited.

-And now you try to show your love in public? God, please send him some strength..

-He was just standing in the crowd, sending your message one after another, asking where you were fooling around without your great boyfriend, when he suddenly heard your voice. The most beautiful demon?? The hell you talking about?!

-Then when he sees you running to him with such a playful face. Mammon didn't even get time to realize something as you already knocked him down with a tight hug.

-"Huh!! S/o, y-you're crazy..! Scaring me like that.." - he mumbled, looking away, feeling as heavy blush started creeping on his cheeks. - "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today and will forgive you.."

-You can't ever imagine just how happy he is to receive such clingy affection from you in front of everyone. Yes yes, that's it! Everyone, look here and see that this precious human is just for a great Mammon..!

-But remember, darling, he's an avatar of Greed, after all.. So that means he will never let his most valuable treasure from his arms now, understand?

-"Come on, take my hand now..!" - he commands, trying to act harsh and dominating yet you can still see this blush on his cheeks and even on his ears. Did his neck get a little bit reader too..? - "I need to show everyone that you're my own human! It's natural, after all, I'm your first man anyway..!"

-Ohh! He's always in his silly goofy mood, he absolutely adores these little games!

-It doesn't matter at all if he's talking with someone or even discussing some serious business, if you walk to him and just take his hand he would never push you away or tell he's too busy.

-How can he? Your hand is so soft and warm.. Oh and if anyone who was he talking to at that moment would even try to say something about your persistence.. The Lord doesn't mind showing his more serious, strict side to them.

-Diavolo knows your voice well so he immediately hears your sweet tone as you call the most gorgeous demon in the world. Ooh, are you talking about him?

-Of course he will turn to your side with open arms to catch you in his hug, pressing you to his big chest with all his strength. Well, actually now with all, as he would just crash you in this case.. But strong enough to make you gasp a little..

-"Ahh, s/o..! You wanted to surprise me today?" - his loud chuckle thundered across the whole corridor, as Diavolo kept squeezing you in his hug. - "Then the most gorgeous demon is glad to greet the most precious human..!"

-He loves to play along with your teases and flirt, as it always lights up his mood after a long day of paperwork.. Or when he wants to relax after a council meeting.

-"Oh, I just remembered..! Why don't you pay a visit to my castle today? You know this little hug is not enough for me now.." - Diavolo laughs again, this time in a more soft and gentle tone, as blood rushes to his face. - "I'm sure brothers would complain too much if you told him you have some urgent personal business with me today, hehe..?"

+a small bonus? I didn't know if I should have written it in hc so I added this here. Another reason why Lucifer is more emotionless to you outside is Maddie. He is ready to tolerate her pushy clingy behavior toward him due to her status and strength yet if she would try to have a beef with you, Lucifer afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself. This lady gave hard time to Lord Diavolo himself when wanted to marry him, which means she's really bold in her actions and even thinking about her trying to hurt you makes Luci's blood boil.

When Diavolo, actually, is absolutely not afraid, even if it will attract the wrath of a powerful witch. Not because he's airheaded, but because he doesn't want to tolerate her debauchery anymore. Sorry, Maddie, the one who will marry Lord of Demons is s/o and after that she can't even think about hurting you as you would belong to a royal family.

[starillusion13]

FAVORITE

Paring: NCT (Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Mark, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin) x f! reader

Genre: Thriller, Mafia, Fluff

W.C: 2.2k

Warnings: scared, mention of keeping captive, trusting strangers, hints of giving sedatives.(idk what to add more)

This is for my bestfriend - @mymoodwriting

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Heavy breaths, messy hairs, torn clothes, dirty hands and legs and teary eyes. You are running to nowhere, the path and the directions are very unclear and unfamiliar to you. Despite being a lost soul in this place, your running legs are taking you ahead, atleast to somewhere where you want to be alone and away from these psychos.

Taking a sudden turn, you bump into a big stone and fall on your hands and knees. Your blurry eyes didn’t notice earlier the end of the road and so your sudden turn made you lose your balance and now you are getting more hurt. Earlier while you were running for almost thirty minutes, you have fallen down so many times but quickly got up as your brain has only one motive, to run away as far as you can. You are already hurt so much and bleeding that this new wound and the burning sensation is like a numb to your skin at this point.

“Ah…”

You have sprained your ankle and now you can’t even stand up and the wound on your elbows is getting worse. You scoot to towards the wall to lean back to it and take some rest. Somehow, your breaths slow down and you are observing your cuts and surroundings. You can’t see anyone near and also no footsteps are audible so you relaxed a bit and dusting off the dirt from the wounds to make it less itchy. You are so into in your own world that you didn’t notice the shadow hovering over you. But you kept your senses alert for dangers then why didn’t you got alarmed before?

“Get up.”

You haven’t heard this voice yet the voice is dominating and deep as if his nature is to order around everyone. You didn’t look up to his command but looking down like a hurt and lost puppy. Even if the person is not the one from who you are running away still your senses are telling you to run away for safety. Your body trembling with fear as what could more worst possibilities can happen other than getting caught by those psychos.

“I said get up. I don’t like to repeat.”

The way he said it, you bring your legs more closer and scoot back more if it’s possible and somehow managed to whisper some stupid things.

“But you still repeated.”

Goodbye. That’s the end. Either way you are going to die today if this is the way you are going to reply back to someone.

The said person bends down and spats your hand to roughly hold your jaw and make you look towards him yet your eyes refuse to look at his face.

“Look at me.”

He observes your face meanwhile, few light cuts on your cheeks and hairs wet attached to your forehead as you are sweating so much because of the fear and exhaustion from running. He runs his fingers over your cuts. Your lips dry and teary and tired eyes looking around for help but as soon he tightens his grip, your gaze moves to him.

A literal living Anime character in front of you. Are you dreaming? Or else why such a human would be in front of you bending down and examining your face with a unreadable face. Wait no. He is worried and hurt. Is he showing sympathy to you? Why? Or you are really bad at reading expressions?

“Are you hurt?”

Okay you were correct before and his tone is suddenly totally different from before. Nowhere that rough powerful aura but a soft and caring tone asking you about your condition.

“No, but I might have fallen few times and got cut in different places and now due to this sprained ankle, I can’t even run.”

Someone might think that you are totally fine and joking around with this stranger but deep inside you are screaming for help and you just want this person to go away as you can’t trust him late at night. Also, how will you explain your condition?

“Why were you running this late at night?”

Um. What to say now? Will he believe you? Maybe not. You opt to keep quiet and it’s not to his liking.

“Why were you running? You know-“

“Taeyong, nowhere we can-“

You are literally terrified to see so many men come running towards where you and this man who is apparently, Taeyong is sitting. Now you are getting anxious about the situation and somehow you tried to move aside and get up but your body gave up and you fall down. Taeyong was looking back and got distracted but as soon as he finds you slipping, he catches you and cages you while being in a position, sitting on one knee and holding you to his front, facing you towards others.

Your alarms are alerted and tears flowing from your eyes and head is aching.

“Please please leave me. I’m not going to report you all but please believe me I’m currently in a dangerous situation. Some people are behind me and trying to hunt me down.”

A man in a simple white t-shirt with denim yet giving off his handsomeness, lips in a straight line comes in front of you and bends down. He removes the wet hairs from your face to tug them behind your ears and trace his fingers over your cuts just like Taeyong. Why are they watching you like this?

“Don’t be scared pretty one. We are not going to hurt you.” He looks around to everyone and then smiles at you, dimples showing his smile brighter. “We are not any gangsters that you are going to report. We were just coming back from some personal business and we found you here on the street. Well not we but Taeyong was first to see you.”

You look back to the said man who is holding you down but his grip on your hand and around your torso is gentle, not to hurt you more. He gives you a little smile but you are still not sure what to do.

Another man with round eyes bends down besides the previous man and pats your head.

“Jaehyun is telling right. No need to be afraid. If you are in danger then we are going to help you and keep you safe. Mark my words.”

The way he has a cheerful undertone that making you believe he is your friend who is happy to get you back and will help you in every way in your danger.

You feel hot breath fanning over your ears and goosebumps spread all over your neck due to so close contact. Lips are almost touching your neck and nose bumping your ears and necks as if he is inhaling your scent like an animal.

You take deep breathes to keep yourself normal and not to take his motives in other ways. Suddenly, he whispers.

“Do you want to go home?”

As soon as you heard the question, you look at the third man you met tonight and back at Taeyong. He raises his eyebrows when you stare at him but you only shake your head.

“Why?”

“I..I don’t have one…I don’t know if I have or not…I can’t remember anything.”

Your head is aching again and you hold your head and grunt in pain. Jaehyun removes your hand and massages your scalp and it helps you relax to his touch and your body giving in. Taeyong massages your shoulders and sides and it worked to release the tension from your body. You still don’t know why you are trusting them yet relaxing to their touch.

“Doyoung, hold her. I need to make some calls. Jaehyun, come along with me. I need your help.”

As soon as Taeyong loosen his hold, you try to flee away but Doyoung was quick to jump in action.

“Stay still. You are in safe hands.”

Patting your head, Jaehyun stands up and you miss his touch. Wow, he is a stranger and you are missing him. His place is getting replaced by another man with sharp eyes and jaws, behind him a smirking man looking down at you.

“She is so dirty.”

You look up to the standing man and glare at his comment.

“Haechan, shut up. If you are going to help us then stay or go with Taeyong and Jaehyun and let us know if they need help or not.” Doyoung spat at him.

“Oh no, I’m too busy for that. Tell Jeno to do that.”

The man before you glares at Haechan and then turns towards you, giving his eye smile, alluring you to trust him.

“Hey,I need to change your shirt as it’s infecting your wounds and it’s so dirty. We have extra clothes in Mark’s backpack so you just need to relax okay?”

You again shake your head on Jeno’s words. The one who was sitting in front of you beside Jeno who was patting your head earlier with Jaehyun is already pulling out some clothes from his backpack.

“No no. I don’t need that. I just want to go away. Away from them.”

Another man makes his presence aware while coming beside you and Doyoung, “why are you so afraid of them? What did they do to you?” Jaemin asks you, you got to know his name because Haechan was earlier nudging him to ask you the questions.

Doyoung rubs your arms and urges you to speak. You look towards the end of the street terrified, fearing they would run coming here and take you way with them again. You feel safe in the hands of these strangers but you are scared if they hurt these men also.

“They were keeping me in their house against my will. They kidnapped me few months back. But the memories are blurred. I tried to run away from that place a lot of times but nothing worked. Luckily today I escaped the house.”

“Have you seen their faces?” Haechan asks you.

“No. Maybe I have but the sedatives were so powerful that I couldn’t keep myself in proper senses. They threatened me to give those drugs until I agree to stay with them. They are scary.”

Doyoung soothes your trembling figure, “shh. shh it’s okay. We won’t let you get hurt again. We will keep you safe.”

Jeno holds your shirt to unbutton them but you hold his hand. Mark pulls your wrist and holds them down, “if you want to be saved by us then you need to have trust us. Please let him do his work.”

Hesitatingly, you allow them. Changing you into a different shirt, which is big on you. He cleans the wounds. Your long pants helped you from getting any cut on your legs but your ankle.

“Take this medicine. It will give you relief from the pain.”

You trust him and it’s paining so much that you quickly gulped down the medicine from Jaemin.

You can see Taeyong and Jaehyun walking towards you and Doyoung stands up with you in his arms. You are feeling drowsy, maybe because of exhaustion and sudden movements. He hands you over to Jeno.

“Where are the cars?” Doyoung asks Taeyong.

“By the side near the turning. Is everything alright here?”

Doyoung nods his head and the other one comes near to you smiling, “we are taking you to our house. You will be safe there until we make sure your surroundings are safe and you will be okay alone. You need to trust us or we would look like your captives.”

You slowly nod your head and in few minutes, you fall asleep.

.

.

.

“Y/n?”

“Are you sleeping, y/n?”

Jeno calls out the name to the girl in his arms but when he sees you sleeping peacefully in his arms, he looks up smirking towards them and starts walking towards the car.

Mark playing with the Keys in his hand and whistles, “ I told you my shirt looks the best on her.”

Jaemin catches up to his friend, “she is looking so cute like this. I’m loving her so much, happily and peacefully sleeping in our arms.”

“So it was not that hard?” Taeyong said while watching Jeno and Jaemin managing to make you sleep on Jaemin’s lap. Mark is waiting in the driver seat, watching the scene on his back and then Jeno moves to the passenger seat.

Doyoung enters the backseat with Haechan and Taeyong on passenger seat and Jaehyun taking the lead to drive.

“She is thinking that she could run away because it was her lucky day.”

“But it was all our plan along to make her trust us in different way.” Jaehyun completes Doyoung’s sentence.

“She is scared of us. Are we scary?”Haechan asks others.

“Of course, we are.” Taeyong smirks while looking outside the window.

Haechan looks at the rear mirror, “But even if she calls us scary, she is my favorite.”

“She is always my favorite.” Jaehyun smirks.

Doyoung pokes his side with the tongue before ending the conversation with his phrase.

“Our favorite.”

Perma Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon

[under-lore]

EDIT 14/03 : Since many people have been sharing this post around (mostly on reddit) and incorrectly assuming it to be the full argument tied with the book reveals mentioned, please keep in mind this was made just a few hours after the book extracts were released and it doesn’t contain all the information there is at all about the book or even about the arguments made regarding the extracts. It was just made (in a slight rush, i may add) to briefly inform people of the overall discoveries made via the book a few hours earlier. There are more things to say about those with are not shared in this post !

So you may have heard about the Undertale legends of localisation 3 book currently available for pre-order of Fangamer.

Recently, a few images from this book have made their way online a few of them are very intriguing lore wise. At first i’ve suspected them to be fake due to the magnitude of the information given, but after verification those did in fact turn out to be real extracts from the book.

This book is a document which is both specified as "made with full access to Toby Fox" and "not part of Undertale merch" (Possibly to avoid the stigma about debatable merch canonicity due to Toby’s old tweet about it ?).

(Most) of it was not written by hand by Toby but it was said to be reflective of Toby's vision of the game and is therefore to be considered as official information.

The most important piece of information to have come out of this book as of today is the following section, more specifically the first paragraph.

And this tells us several very important things that seem to confirm and deconfirm a couple of old UT fan theories !

To start with the less important one :

1 - Chara is excluded from "The three members of the Dreemurr family".

This line coupled with the alarm clock dialogue and a couple lines where Toriel and Asgore refer to Chara in an odd manner seem to imply that Chara may not have wanted to be considered a Dreemurr (Which the Dreemurrs would respect, but the rest of the kingdom would still assume them to be Asriel's sibling), or that they were simply never properly 'adopted' by the Dreemurrs and only lived and were treated as if they were.

(is Chara not considered their child ?)

2 - The Undertale three entities thesis is correct. That is, that there is a trio of 3 entities able to control Frisk's body (Frisk, Chara, and the player.)

This has two sides, first off, it means that :

1) Chara does in fact, have to be bound with Frisk in every route and not just in genocide. There were already several ways to know this via the game of course, but no direct implication of this from outside media existed until now. (There were a couple indirect ones)

It is however not a proof of NarraChara as it could still be possible for Chara to fulfill this role described here by being around Frisk, but not necessarily also being the narrator of the game. Nevertheless, it does still fairly strongly supports the theory and deconfirms one of its antithesises).

And 2) : The second side is that this would also have to make the player a canon entity in Undertale as well in order to complete that triforce. The player cannot be a third party vying for control of Frisk’s body if they do not exist in-world.

You can also point out how just before saying that, the text also portrays Monsters, Humans and the player as a set of three and thus shows that Frisk must be a different entity from the player that way as well.

This book contains yet more information to be analysed and whilst i intend to obtain my own physical copy as soon as possible, until then updates regarding it will only be as fast as new information appears.