#i mean i already wanted to get into puppet making right? but then i found this old sock puppet i made when i was little | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roosterforme · 1 year ago

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The Younger Kind Part 36 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is finally happy, and he knows it's because of you. The way you want to try new things with him in bed makes him feel wild. And the way you love his son makes him feel calm. But when you read a piece of mail before he's ready for you to see it, your reaction has him feeling something new.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, anal sex, butt plug, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley anxiously awaited for his appointment with Tracy to begin. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that she asked him to stop by on his way home from work, but he was here now. And he had his checkbook with him.

"I owe you some money," he said when she finally called him back.

"Sure, but we have other things to talk about," she said, ushering him over to her conference table while she opened up a Red Bull.

His stomach lurched. "It is about Meredith? Is it bad?" He was finally starting to be able to enjoy every day he spent with you and Noah. He didn't have to worry about things constantly, because you were happy to help him with his son and his house. When he got home with Noah the other day, you were changing that lightbulb on the front porch that he'd been meaning to get to. And you kept trying to help him pay his mortgage.

"Yes, it's about Meredith. Just have a seat."

Bradley sat and looked at her expectantly. "Has she been released or something? Do I need to call my girl?"

"No, no," she said, waving him off as she took a sip. "She's been sentenced."

Now Bradley's heart was really pounding. Tracy had told him that Meredith would most likely get five to fifteen years for the fraud charges. Five would be devastating, simply because Noah would still be a minor when she was released. Fifteen would be ideal. Noah would be over eighteen and a legal adult. A fight for custody or money would be a moot point. And well, if Bradley had another child with you, that would have nothing legally to do with his ex at all.

"Please tell me this is good, Tracy. I just want to solidify my life right now exactly as it is. No more messing around with protective orders and broken windows. My kid is happy, and I am happy."

She smiled and said, "You're about to get even happier. Fifteen years."

Bradley was out of his seat with his fist in the air immediately. "Hell yes! Any chance at parole?" he asked.

"There's always a chance. We'll keep an eye on things."

She and he talked for a bit after that, and he felt his body ease back comfortably in the seat. Bradley wrote out a check and left it with Tracy, and then she handed him a folder full of information on adopting a stepchild in California. And a second folder with a preliminary copy of his updated will.

When he got home with his checkbook in his hand, he found you and Noah in the kitchen, and both of you were wearing more peanut butter than the carrots on the cutting board in front of you were. But you were laughing, and so was he, and the house smelled like dinner was cooking.

"I'm home," Bradley said from the kitchen doorway, and you spun in surprise.

"Hi, Daddy," you said as you rushed for him with your messy hands held out at your sides. "You're already done with Tracy?"

"Mmhmm," Bradley hummed, leaning down to kiss you as Noah brought him ants on a log. "Fifteen years," he murmured, and you leaned in for another kiss with a soft, pleased laugh.

"Really?"

"We can talk more later," he said, keeping one arm around your waist as he lifted Noah up and opened his mouth for the messy carrot stick. He kissed Noah while he chewed and then said, "Thanks, Bub. Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah. We did a puppet show," he said before squirming out of Bradley's arm to go make a bigger mess. And that left Bradley holding you and his checkbook.

"Casey asked me to say hi to you when I picked Noah up," you whispered with a little grin on your face as you reached for the checkbook. "I told her I would if my mouth wasn't otherwise engaged this evening."

Bradley snorted. "You didn't."

"I did," you confirmed, waving his checkbook in the air between two fingers before tossing it onto the counter. "Who are you writing checks to, old man? I already told you, everyone uses payment apps."

"Tracy," he said. "I'm pretty sure she's older than me."

"Nobody is older than you, Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley took your wrists and guided both of your hands to his mouth. He watched your lips part silently as he licked the healed scar on your palm before sucking your thumb into his mouth. You squeaked as he cleaned the peanut butter from each of your fingers individually as you stepped a little closer to him.

"Who you calling old?" he asked before kissing your palm and squeezing your hip. He made a show of switching to the other hand as you rubbed your core against the front of his pants. Your eyes rolled back as you moaned for him. "Shh," he scolded. "Behave."

But you were only wearing thin scrub pants, and Bradley didn't actually want you to behave. One glance at Noah proved that he was absorbed with emptying a large canister of raisins onto the counter, so Bradley finished with your hand and then palmed both of your butt cheeks at the same time. He squeezed, really enjoying the feel of you as he whispered, "Are you wearing it?"

"No," you gasped. "I just got home from work!"

Bradley shrugged. "You've been wearing it around the past few days. Here and there."

You glanced at Noah over your shoulder before you whispered, "It makes me horny. I can't wear it to work! I'll get fired!"

Bradley chuckled and then he tightened his grip on your ass and said, "Go put it in."

Your teeth immediately sank into your lip. "Now?"

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Like my good girl."

You scampered off to the bedroom, saying, "Take the casserole out of the oven," as you went.

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You knew to take your time with your silicone plug now. Use lots of lube and relax. As soon as you finished inserting it, you were practically moaning for Bradley to put his cock in your pussy. You were kind of addicted to the way it felt when he and the toy were both inside you at the same time. With a few deep breaths, you eased your underwear and your scrub pants back up your legs and made your way back to the kitchen.

Bradley and Noah were sitting at the table with the casserole dish, and when you met your boyfriend's eyes, he was grinning. "Well?" he asked, reaching for your hand.

"You know it, Daddy," you replied, and even though you weren't trying to, your voice took on a needy edge.

He grunted softly, his eyes half lidded now as he patted the chair next to him. Noah was already eating his dinner, and thankfully he didn't seem to notice the way Bradley was looking at you like you were for dessert. You eased yourself onto the seat and whimpered softly as Bradley leaned in and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to your lips.

"I love you, Baby," he murmured before brushing your cheek with his nose. "I can't wait to take you to the lake house next weekend. We'll pack your little toy."

He started kissing along your neck, and you didn't think you'd make it through dinner at this rate. Your nipples were hard, and he was barely even touching you. Desperate for a distraction, you tried to reach for the casserole without rolling your hips too much.

"Daddy?" Noah asked. "Can we get a dog?"

"A dog?" Bradley asked, his attention shifting slightly from you to his son. "I already got you a Mommy, isn't that enough?" You snorted with laughter, but Noah was undeterred.

"I want a dog."

"Noah, if we get a dog, somehow it will end up being my responsibility. Maybe when you're older," Bradley said. But he was pouting, and he looked like he was going to cry.

"Daddy," you whined softly with a little grin. "I always wanted a dog, too."

Now Bradley was looking back and forth between you and Noah, before settling on you. "Are you really going to do this to me right now? You could probably get away with murder at the moment, Princess."

"Isn't that always the case?" you asked sweetly as you shifted a bit in your seat and served yourself some dinner.

Bradley groaned and held his forehead in his hand. "Can we talk about this later?" he begged, glancing at you between his fingers. But you were busy smiling at his son.

"We'll work on it, okay sweet Noah?" you whispered.

"Okay," Noah agreed softly before he started eating again.

But teasing Bradley about the dog definitely backfired on you later on the couch. Noah wanted to watch a Disney movie, so Bradley sat in the middle of the couch with your head resting on one thigh and Noah's on the other. The Princess and the Frog was playing, because Bradley insisted you deserved a princess movie. And everything was perfect. His hand was heavy on your side, stroking you through your clothing in the most delicious way.

When the movie was nearly finished, Bradley murmured, "Noah's asleep," as his hand skimmed along your hip. Then inch by inch, his fingers worked their way along your butt until he was cupping you with one big hand. Then you felt him prod you through your clothing, running one long finger across the base of your toy.

"Fuck," he grunted as he very gently pressed it further into you. Full. You were so full. After days of wearing it for an hour here and there, you thought maybe you were ready for more.

You looked up at Bradley over your shoulder and wiggled against his hand. The way he slowly shook his head and licked his lips made you feel like you were in control of this. But you supposed you always were. Then he eased his hand up to your lower back and teased at the waistband of your pants and underwear before dipping it inside.

Rough skin on yours had your eyes fluttering closed. "Look at me, Baby," he whispered, and you clenched for him. "Look at me while I touch you."

You did as you were told, but he subtly let you know you were still in charge. His brown eyes were sincere and open as he cupped your rear end, moving the plug incrementally. Pushing, pulling, tugging and teasing. When you whimpered, he pushed his fingers forward to your pussy.

"Daddy," you gasped as he pushed his rough fingers through your folds.

He spanked your pussy lightly until you were afraid you'd start getting loud. "Go get yourself in bed," he instructed. Then he withdrew his fingers and licked them clean. When you rolled onto your belly, your cheek and hand rubbed against his cock in his pants. "I'll come take care of you in a minute."

"Yes, Daddy." You kissed Noah's cheek and then leaned down to taste yourself on Bradley's lips. Then you ran into the bedroom and tossed all of your clothing into the hamper, replacing all of it with a new matching bra and thong you paid for with his credit card. "Damn it," you whined. The toy was making you squirm for release, and you were half tempted to touch yourself. You were nervous, but only slightly, because you knew Bradley would do whatever you told him to. So you grabbed the lube from your drawer and settled onto your beautiful, new bed.

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Shit. You were already touching yourself when Bradley walked into the bedroom. Black lingerie, your purple plug peeking out, and you on your back with your fingers in your pussy. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, ripping his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. You looked so young and innocent, even with your ass full of that toy. Bradley couldn't believe the words he was about to speak out loud. "Will you let me fuck you in the ass?"

Wide eyed and writhing around on your back on the bed, you nodded at him. "Yes." He was determined to do this just right. He never wanted to hurt you. He always wanted you to feel good when you were with him. Carefully he removed his jeans and joined you on the bed with his cock hard in his briefs.

"You've been teasing me with that toy all night," he whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to your lips and pulling away so you'd chase him for more. "Time to see if you can handle something a little bigger."

You whined for him as he kissed down your body. "You're a lot bigger," you gasped when he nibbled on you through your bra. "You'll go slow?"

Bradley hummed against your skin, stretching up to kiss your neck. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything you want. And if you tell me to stop, I'll stop."

"Okay," you whispered. "Just go slow."

He could hear the slight edge of apprehension in your voice, so he took your face in his hand and kissed your cheek. He wanted to be sure this was a good type of nervous, not a bad one. "You are under no obligation to do this, Princess. You already give me more than enough."

"I know," you replied, meeting his lips with yours.

But he pulled back and forced you to look him in the eye. "Tell me one more time that this is what you want. And tell me that you trust me."

You nibbled on your lip before you said, "I always trust you. And I want to try this. Now make me feel good."

Bradley was grinning as he slipped his hand down your belly and tucked it inside your black underwear. The swirl of his fingers on your clit had you gasping, and soon he pulled your underwear off. You were already wet when he put his mouth on you, and then Bradley thought about edging you to make you squirt for him. But your fingers were rough in his hair, and he knew he would be too far gone to be as gentle as possible if he did that. So he took his time, burying his nose and mouth in your sweet pussy, and licking you everywhere until you came for him. Then he licked all around that plug and admired the tight pucker of your hole wrapped around it.

"Fuck," he gasped, placing a kiss to your inner thigh. He was going to find out just how tight you were. As you rode the little jolts of pleasure still going through your body, Bradley carefully wrapped his arms around your back and got you onto all fours. "Try it like this?" he asked, caging your body in beneath his.

Your words were a little incoherent as you bucked back against him, and he could feel the base of your toy against his cock through his underwear. Oh hell, he needed to pull himself together. He needed something familiar to calm himself down. Bradley unclasped your bra and pressed his chest to your back, watching the strap slide down your arm. Your hips were rocking back, and he moved in unison with you, planting his left hand on the bed and rubbing your tits with his right.

He kissed along your spine and moaned, "You'll put me in an early grave, I swear it." Your soft giggle had him dragging his lips along your shoulder until he was kissing your neck. "I love you, Baby."

"I love you too, Daddy," you whispered, and it was the sweetest thing. So Bradley stood on his knees behind you, admiring the way you and that toy looked as he spread your legs wide. When he slid his underwear down, his cock bounced up to tap you, nudging the plug and making you groan. He didn't know how this was going to work as he pumped his hand along his girth before slipping himself into your pussy. And that was the familiar thing he needed, clearing his mind as you whined, "I feel so full. My toy and my Daddy."

Bradley smirked and rubbed himself against the base as held your hips. "Just wait," he warned playfully. The pretty curve of your back had him running his hand up and everywhere along your silky skin. Your hair smelled like wildflowers when he kissed your back. And then you were begging him to do it.

He reached for the lube and drizzled it all over you before coating his cock liberally. Then he fucked your pussy with steady strokes as he carefully eased the toy out of you as you gasped. Your perfect hole gripped along the plug, and Bradley had to count to ten to calm himself down. "Baby," he groaned, tossing the toy aside. "You ready?"

"Yes."

His cock was shiny and slick, resting on his palm, and then he was pressing himself to your asshole, convinced you were going to tell him to stop. You were so tight, he had to bite down on his lip as he pushed. And then you were whining, "More. More," as you squeezed the tip of him so much, he was afraid he'd black out.

"Princess," he growled, head tipped back as he pushed slowly. So slowly. He was dizzy from it, the slow pace driving him to the edge. "So tight. Holy hell." And then you turned to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were glazed over with need, and your lips were parted softly.

"Feels good," you gasped, and he reached out to run his thumb along your lip. You kissed him. You were perfect. He pushed himself a little deeper, and you kissed his thumb again. He looked down to see himself buried inside you as you licked his thumb.

"God damn it," he cursed, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He dipped his thumb into your mouth and whispered, "I can't last like this. Too fucking good. So tight." He was shaking his head, but you were nodding and swirling your tongue along his thumb. He withdrew an inch and thrust, and you started keening.

If Bradley managed even ten strokes inside your ass, it was a miracle. He went slowly, but it was too much. And you were loud, spurring him on with his thumb tucked between your lips and pressed to your tongue.

Every time you tightened around him, he knew he was going to cum. He was just biding his time for a few more seconds, and then it was too much. He tried to keep his movements steady and fluid as he came inside you, but they were a little jerky. He was grunting your name over and over, trying to get himself under control. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice rough as he slipped his thumb out of your mouth.

"Mmm, yes," you moaned. "It only hurt a little, and then it felt good."

Bradley brought both hands to your hips and stroked you as he started to gently withdraw from your body. And then his jaw went slack as you were puckered around his tip. It was going to look so pretty, he just knew it.

"Baby," he whined when he pulled himself free. His white cum was at your opening, and he watched that first droplet as it slid down to your pussy and dripped onto the bed. You were oozing with his finish, and he was transfixed.

You said his name and made to roll over, but Bradley kept you still with his big hands on your thighs. "Shh," he coaxed as another long drop fell to the bed. And then he licked you clean as you mewled and whimpered. He lapped up every bit of his cum as it leaked out of you, and he cleaned up your pussy as well.

"Bradley," you whispered as he gently rolled you to your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he settled on top of you, careful to keep his full body weight from hurting you. The fucked out, exhausted expression on your face made him smile.

"You did so good, Baby."

"I know," you agreed. "I liked it."

His lips were ghosting over yours as he asked, "Do you need anything? Want me to get a shower ready for us?"

"In a couple minutes," you replied easily. And then Bradley rolled you both to your sides and snuggled you against him with one big hand on your ass.

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You were just trying to get through your day at work on Thursday. You just needed to make it to Friday morning when the three of you would be driving up to the lake house to meet Mav, Penny and Amelia. But two of your coworkers were out sick, and you had to pick up all the slack. You even had to text Bradley and let him know you wouldn't be able to pick Noah up or start dinner.

Bradley Daddy Bradshaw: Take your time. I'll make sandwiches for dinner. See you at home.

Once you had all of the exam rooms cleaned and disinfected, Dr. Kelly found you and said, "Go home. Enjoy your long weekend with your family. That little Noah is the cutest thing."

You laughed and nodded. "Oh, he knows he's adorable. It's getting to be a problem. See you next week."

Then you made your way to your car and thought about how you and Noah were most definitely going to wear Bradley down, and soon enough you'd have a dog at home. You'd even been working on a shortlist of names for when that fateful day arrived. You picked up a few pet themed coloring books on your lunch break, and when you pulled into the driveway, you took the bag from the front seat.

The mail truck was just pulling up to your house; he must have been having a late day, too. You walked to the curb to meet him, and he handed everything to you with a wave. As you walked up to the porch, you picked your envelopes out of the stack and left Bradley's separate. Great, your student loan statement was here. You couldn't wait to see how your last payment barely put a dent in things.

"Hi," you called out as you walked through the living room. "Sorry, I'm so late." But when you looked into the kitchen, Bradley was still in his uniform, calmly making a turkey and cheese sandwich and cutting it into little triangles while Noah colored.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Bradley rasped, and you kissed his shoulder through his shirt. "I'll make your sandwich next." But you'd already moved on to Noah, smothering him in kisses while he laughed.

"Check out this dog themed coloring book," you said loudly, earning a glare from Bradley as you set it down in front of Noah. "Isn't this little brown puppy on the cover just adorable?"

"I want a dog," Noah whined as he opened the cover and got to work. You were betting you'd have a dog by next month.

"Relentless," Bradley groaned, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. "Did you have a good day?" he asked. "Ready for the lake?"

"Yes. And definitely." He tried to hand you a sandwich on a plate, but you said, "Let me go through my mail first before I forget. I want to make sure I log in and make my student loan payment tonight before we leave in the morning." You took the sandwich from him and noticed that he looked a little timid now. "What's wrong?"

"Well. Nothing's wrong," he said quietly as you bit into the sandwich and then set it down again to open up your envelope. But he had you distracted, and you realized too late that you had opened a piece of his mail from Tracy by mistake. You skimmed along the page and you gasped as tears welled up in your eyes.

I, Bradley Bradshaw, a legal adult of sound mind and competency, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament (hereinafter, “Last Will & Testament”) and do hereby revoke any and all wills and codicils heretofore made jointly or severally by me.

In the event I shall die as the sole parent of minor child(ren), then I appoint as guardian over minor child(ren)

You stopped when you read your name and dropped the papers to the floor as you burst into tears. "Bradley," you gasped, and he looked up from where he was putting mayonnaise on a slice of bread. You bent to pick up the papers, but you were so emotional, you could barely see, so you just sat on the floor next to them and looked up at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling down and cupping your face in his hands. "Princess, tell me what's wrong."

You swiped at your tears with your hands and whispered, "You trust me that much?"

"What are you talking about, Baby?" he asked, and then he reached for one of the papers on the floor. "Your student loans?"

He was about to realize what you had read, so you quickly said, "I didn't mean to open it, I tore into the wrong envelope. I thought it was my student-"

Bradley silenced your sentence with a kiss as you sobbed. When he released your lips, you could still feel his nose on your cheek as you tried to get your breathing under control. "Yes. I trust you that much. If something happens to me, I know you'll take care of Noah."

You threw your arms around his neck and pushed him back onto his butt and climbed into his lap. "I would. I really would."

He held you close and softly said, "I was planning on telling you this weekend. The paperwork isn't finalized yet, but I can call Tracy's office and have it completed at any time."

You kissed him and said, "Call first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I'll call first thing tomorrow morning." He was smiling as you let your forehead rest against his.

"Why are you on the floor?" Noah asked, leaning over the table to look at you both.

Bradley scooped you up as he stood and set you down on your feet, but you kept your arms around him. "Mommy was just being silly, Bub. How about you put the crayons down and eat your sandwich." Then he kissed your hair and said, "You better eat your sandwich, too."

You took your plate and the mail to the table and sat down across from Noah. You watched him sip his milk through a straw cup and then eat all of the cheese out of the sandwich first. He was perfect. And you'd never have to be without him. Bradley trusted you with his child more than anyone else. And you knew he wanted to have another one.

As he sat down next to you with his own sandwich and a beer, you opened your student loan envelope and started to read. But you could feel his eyes on you as he sipped his Heineken.

"You okay, Daddy?" you asked softly, wiping at at stray tear.

"Just read your mail," he replied. When you looked back down at the paper in your hands, you saw that instead of nearly ten thousand dollars, your balance due for nursing school was zero.

"What did you do?" you gasped, looking him in the eye.

He just shrugged and bit into his own sandwich, smiling as he chewed. "Paid off your loans. Your interest rate was so high, you'd still be paying on them by the time you're my age. Which is dumb when I have the money to take care of it now."

"Bradley!" Your eyes were welling with tears again as you said, "You didn't have to do that!"

His voice was stern as you crawled into his lap again. "I trust you with Noah, one hundred percent. The money doesn't matter as much as that."

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you straddled his thigh, and his big hand was rubbing your back. "You still didn't have to," you whispered. "But thank you. And now I can help you with your mortgage and bills instead."

"You just save your money, and we'll figure it out later."

But you already knew you'd talk him into letting you pay for something. And the rest could go into a savings account for school for Noah. And anything leftover could be used to plan for the exciting future you were going to experience with the two of them.

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Daddy keeps on winning now. And Princess doesn't have to worry about the things that shouldn't matter. Next up, the lake house. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 37

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anemos-orca · 5 months ago

Text

The Harbingers Cat

Balladeer x neko!reader smut, MDNI

cw: smut, female reader, reader is the Balladeers loyal assistant, reader draws NSFW, humiliation, fantasizing, probably more qwq

Series Tag: #▪︎HarbingersCat

NSFW under "keep reading"

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Being the assistant (and a neko one at that) of the 6th Fatui Harbinger was not an easy job, but you couldnt deny how much you enjoyed your work. Despite how you sometimes slipped up or were given a shocking flick of electro for doodling on the job, working under the Balladeers direct command was, to say the least, fulfilling. He tasked you with medial jobs that were "below him" such as paperwork, greeting new cadets, and cleaning his workspace. You found pride in your work and were eager to please, each subtle word of praise murmured by your higher up fueling you into wanting more and more. It was such a rare thing that, whenever it did happen, it was like all your hard work paid off and you were rewarded with something worth more than mora itself- i mean, who gets praised by the Balladeer??

Scaramouche was amused by you and your strange willingness to do anything he asked. Sometimes he would make up a "job" so rediculous, it felt painfully obvious how fake it was- but still, you never questioned him. If for the sake of not having to sift through countless morons, Scaramouche could brush off your stupid little mistakes and your gross habit of doodling. Though, as time passed, he noticed that you were beginning to act... peculiarly. He would catch you mimicing his expressions, the way he walked, the way he talked- he couldnt deny how pathetically adorable it was. His little neko assistant bossing a cadet around just like how he would, only to turn around with a cute, satisfied smile (despite your efforts to contain the satisfaction of successfully copying your boss) like a kid who managed to learn how to make a sandwich just by watching their mom do it. He couldnt take you seriously, not with the way your fluffy little ears flinched away each time he snapped his fingers right next to them just to startle you. Not with how your tail would poof up in excitement at the most meaningless and fickle of things. Not with the way those stupidly expressive eyes of yours seemed to sparkle each time he would murmur the simplest of praises.

After even more time had passed, he would catch himself studying the little doodles you had made in days past- whenever you were being covered by some idiot who didnt know the first thing about being his assistant, they reminded him that he wouldnt have to deal with his medial tasks once you came back. He would never admit it, but he tended to be more annoyed with people on the days you were gone. He didnt understand the strange, relaxing effect you had on him, and it was irritating.

You werent a puppet like him, so being in lethally cold conditions all the time weakened your body just like it would any other mortal. Therefore, you were often given a couple days off every few weeks to recover. Scaramouche couldnt imagine what you could possibly be doing on the days you spent cooped up in your tiny room all alone, but he figured you just slept through it. Besides, mortal activities were not his concern.

However, that changed on the day you accidentally forgot your sketchbook in his office. You had already left- it was late and you finished filling out his paperwork for the day- but you didnt notice the precious item you left behind. Scaramouche knew how valuable it was to you, considering the fact that it was always in your little satchel and you never left it unattended, so it piqued his curiosity. Why was a sketchbook, of all things, your most valuable item? Such a stupid thing to do, to hold something so fragile and easily ruined at high value. Despite his subtle curiosity, he couldnt care less about what you did, owned, or carried, so he never demanded to inspect it. Though, given this perfect opportunity to quell his after-work boredom, he couldnt help but take a peek.

The Balladeer leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk with a relieved sigh, satisfied to have a moment of relaxation. He flipped the cover of your tattered sketchbook open and examined the first page, reading, "If lost, return to (y/n) at once. Inspection is strictly prohibited. Doing so will result in high punishment." He scoffed, imagining your stupid kitty ears flattening back in seriousness as you wrote. The first few pages after were filled with redundant doodles of the most random things- creatures, expressions, trees, a large amount of dogs and cats- but as he continued thumbing through, he began to see drawings of... himself? He narrowed his eyes and sat forward, raising a judgemental brow. They started out silly and cartoonish, but within the next few pages, he found well thought out, clean, almost realistic drawings of himself in quite the suggestive poses. He couldnt help but snicker, amused by the newfound knowledge of your apparent crush on him. The drawings of the next page were even more suggestive and lewd, but compared to what he flipped to after that, they seemed tame.

He had plans for that sketchbook. Imagining the mortified, humiliated, and impossibly embarrassed expressions youd make when he would reveal to you that he had seen the way you fantasized about his cock- the thoughts painted a sadistic smile across his face, and for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to starting a new day.

Scaramouches eyes widened and his amused expression grew as he laid eyes upon a completely pornographic drawing of himself that filled the entirety of the page- he was sitting in the very chair he sat in now, fisting his hardened cock, a scandalously pleasured expression spread over his face, and thick ropes of cum cascading over his desk. He had to admit, it was a good drawing, but all he could think about was the lustful expression and blushing cheeks you mustve had while creating such lewd art of your own boss. He wouldnt have guessed your massive crush on him even with your overly eager-to-please demeanor, only thinking his little neko assistant acted in such peculiar ways from vehement loyalty- and he found the idea to be rather entertaining. He finished flipping through your sketchbook, studying every nasty drawing you made of him and, in turn, began imagining his own dirty scenarios about making his secretly filthy assistant help him with more... physical tasks. It excited him, and he could feel his body heat up at the tought of it. Slyly chuckling to himself, the Balladeer shoved your sketchbook into the top drawer of his desk and left for the night, being sure to lock the door to his icy office so you couldnt sneak in and take back what was rightfully yours.

You, on the other hand, were not. The moment you set your satchel down in your little room, the lack of its familiar clunk sound due to your sketchbook being inside made your heart drop. You frantically searched every inch of your room, overturning and messing up every nook and cranny looking for that blasted sketchbook, but it was nowhere to be found. It was too late to go looking for it- it was past curfew, and if you were found snooping about, you would be punished and questioned. How could you possibly face another Fatui member and explain that, "Oh, im not being suspicious, dont worry! Im just desperately looking for my lost sketchbook that contains highly inappropriate art of the 6th Harbinger, my boss." You gulped hard, an overwhelming feeling of guilt creeping through your skin and into your bones as you remembered where it last was. His office. Your tail bristled and your mind began to race, panicing at the thought of what was going to happen tomorrow- surely he had seen it and flipped through the pages, infuriated that his stupid little kitty assistant was drawing porn of him. Was he going to kill you? Imprison you? Exile you to the fridgid wilds of your homeland? Archons, your heart had never beat so hard in your life. It felt like it was trying to escape your ribcage to run away and hide. However, no matter how much you stressed, there was nothing you could do except face the consequences of your actions in the morning. Your stupid, foolish actions.

#genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche smut #scaramouche smut #genshin scara #scara x reader #the balladeer #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x you #▪︎HarbingersCat #balladeer smut #genshin impact x reader

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ckret2 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 14 of Human Bill Is A Prisoner And Only Mabel Is Being Nice To Him (real title TBD), and the conclusion of the first big plot arc:

Also featuring: what Pacifica has been up to the past year! Dipper and Mabel arguing about Bill! The hand witch, briefly! Funny pranks that Ford does not think are funny! And other things.

####

Dipper and Mabel waved goodbye as they left the Hand Witch's cave. The witch, her boyfriend, and Mabel's spare right hand on the witch's shoulder waved back.

"Thanks for helping us out on such short notice," Dipper said.

"Oh, any time!" the witch said. "Come back whenever you like! I'll make tea and snacks again."

"Girl, you know I'm always up for more of your..." Mabel flashed the witch a pair of finger guns and a wink, "... finger food!"

Her spare hand made a finger gun back. The witch laughed so hard she wheezed. Her boyfriend leaned down to pat her back.

As Mabel and Dipper wove their way down the Hand Witch's mountain, Mabel said, "It's good to see she's found a relationship. She seems happy! And less desperate."

"I dunno, I'm kind of worried about that guy. What if he's just using her to learn her handomancy secrets?"

"Naaah, I'm not worried about him. He's a really bad apprentice. I think he's just letting her train him as a bonding activity. Like when girls let their boyfriends explain football so they can watch games together." Mabel turned to peer at the dark cave above. "Do you think Alehandra will be lonely without me?"

"Wh—you already named it?"

"Hands come in pairs, Dipper. Maybe she'd like a twin sister." She looked at Dipper's hands. "Or brother."

"Oh no. Uh-uh, I can see where this is going. We've already gotten in enough trouble with that stuff."

Mabel's phone buzzed. They must have gotten near enough town to get reception again. She pulled out her phone, saw a text from Soos, and swiped it open. "Mabel, this is Ford..."

"Speaking of growing extra hands," Dipper said. "Mabel... I think this whole thing is a bad idea. I mean—worse than it was originally. Getting Bill magic hair growth formula is one thing, but, growing extra limbs? I don't know what he could do with that, but he could do something."

Mabel's thumbs hovered over the screen, paralyzed as she tried to figure out what to tell Ford and Dipper at the same time.

The truth was, she'd had the same worry as Dipper. She lowered her phone. "Yeah, okay, maybe he could possibly do something with it hypothetically—but clearly the whole reason he asked for it was for the hair growth part! Because he's bald. So maybe he just... doesn't care about the rest? If we get only enough Hairy Fairy to regrow his hair and use it all up, then he won't have a chance to use it for anything evil, right?"

"Unless he's not even interested in regrowing his hair." Dipper pulled off his backpack and rummaging through it until he found the advertisement Ford had given him. "Look, everything in this ad lines up with what Bill told us about Hairy Fairy's history. If he knew that much, he definitely could know it can grow extra limbs. He might have even known it was coming back on the market before he saw the commercial! What if the only reason he burned off his hair was to manipulate us into getting this formula?"

"What would he do with a bunch of extra body parts?" Mabel asked. "He's clumsy enough with the ones he already has. I kinda think more would make him weaker."

"I don't know, but—I didn't know what he wanted a 'puppet' for, either, and see how that turned out?"

Mabel bit her lip, looking at Dipper's face—and then looked down at her phone, rereading the last sentence of Ford's text. "I'm worried he might be up to something nefarious."

She couldn't have this conversation in two places at once. She typed a quick reply to Ford—"It's too complicated to explain in text! I'll tell you when Dipper and I get home. (It's NOT dangerous, don't worry!) ❤️"—and stuffed her phone in her pocket. "Okay," she said. "Look. Sure, it makes sense to be extra paranoid with Bill—especially when we saw him finish his big master plan last summer—but honestly? I kinda don't think he's that good. Think about how many times Grunkle Ford says he tried and failed to get into our universe! I don't think he's a big alien super-genius with a careful zillion-year plan; I think he's just some guy that needed to try a zillion years just to get one plan to work. And that's... kind of lame. What can a guy like that do with hair formula?"

Dipper absorbed that. "Wow. Yeah, actually, when you put it that way, that—that isn't very impressive." He grimaced. "But—okay, even if he didn't have a complicated escape plan, what if he saw the hair formula and thought of one that he needs extra arms for—?"

"Dipper, we can 'but what if' Bill forever!" She flung out her hands in frustration. "If we second-guess everything he says, we'll start wondering stuff like 'what if he wants us to distrust him so he can reverse-psychology us into doing the thing he actually wants?' It'll drive us crazy! And letting Bill drive us crazy won't make us safer! We can't spend another summer being paranoid about Evil Bill Tricks!"

"Okay yeah, you have a point, but—why is the solution 'do what he wants'? Why isn't it 'tell him no, and cover our ears whenever he tries to say he wants something so we don't even know what he wants and he can't manipulate us'?"

Mabel's mind flashed back to the sad ghost under the zodiac blanket, huddled in a dusty corner. She looked at her feet and kicked a clump of grass self-consciously. "Because... he's sad and it's making me sad."

Dipper groaned. "Mabel."

"I know—"

"Mabel, he could be acting sad on purpose—"

"I know he could, I know, I KNOW!" Mabel let out all her accumulated Bill-induced frustration in a scream that startled several birds out of a nearby tree. She jumped furiously on the clump of grass. "He probably thinks I'm a big soft sucker! He's the worst and I hate him so much!"

"YES!" Dipper aimed a kick at the grass clump. "He's the worst ever! It's his fault we're even having this argument!"

"This summer was supposed to be different!"

"No apocalypses, no murder attempts, and no demon triangles!"

"No triangles at ALL! I don't even like geometry!"

When they'd collaboratively destroyed the grass clump, they fell silent, breathing heavily, staring at the upturned dirt. "I needed that," Mabel said. After a moment, she knelt down and tried to set the mangled grass back upright. The grass did nothing to deserve this.

Dipper leaned against a tree. "So. Are we giving up on the hair stuff?"

Mabel carefully patted a mound of dirt around what was left of the base of the grass. "I... still wanna go through with it."

Dipper had used up all his frustration on the grass. He sighed. "If you're gonna get that stuff for Bill no matter what I say, then... why are you trying to talk me into it?"

"Because I'm not going to do it. Not unless you agree."

"You... what?"

"Dipper, I feel like this is the right thing to do—but that's why I need to know what you think. The last time we didn't talk things out, the world almost ended! We always make better decisions together than we do apart. If I can't say anything that makes you think it's worth the risk, then—I'll give up. I'll tell Bill we couldn't get the stuff, and offer to get him a discount wig after Summerween, and... that's it." Mabel shrugged. "I'm scared too. I keep wondering stuff like 'what if he gives himself leg stilts and climbs out the chimney? What if he grows seven fingers and can finally overpower Ford?' But that's stupid."

She looked up at Dipper. "I want to make sure that if we give up, it's because there really is a danger. I don't want to refuse to help somebody suffering just because we're scared of him."

Dipper slid down to sit on the grass and watch Mabel give the grass clump first aid. Once Mabel was satisfied enough to sit back and wipe her hands off on her skirt, Dipper said, "Yeah. I am scared of him. He's tricked me with some misleading wording before, and I don't want it to happen again. I want to say I'm just being logical, but... right now, maybe I'm doing more feeling than thinking, too." He shrugged. "The truth is, I can't think of anything he could do with the hair growth formula that isn't so ridiculous, even I don't believe it's possible."

Mabel nodded. "Are you scared enough to say 'no'? If you are, we'll quit."

"No, I'm not." Dipper heaved a sigh. "I guess... let's do it. But I want to be as careful as possible. We'll get just barely enough to regrow his hair, one of us will apply the formula so he can't misuse it—"

"I can do that," Mabel said. "I've already slathered like a whole bucket of yellow paint on his face."

"Okay. And I'll watch the whole time as backup, in case he tries anything."

"Barty can watch from the vents as the backup-backup, too!"

"Good idea."

"Boom! Flawless plan!" Mabel grinned. "Now let's go see Pacifica!"

####

The address Pacifica had given them led to a small fenced-in pasture outside town.

Over the main gate was a sign that read "Platinum Alpaca Estates".

In the pasture, a half dozen pink-collar-wearing alpacas placidly grazed.

And standing in front of it all—wearing immaculately tailored lavender overalls, a set of white rhinestone-studded boots and cowboy hat, and a nervous smile—was Pacifica.

Dipper and Mabel gaped.

Dipper said, "What the— What is—"

"Pacifica what."

Pacifica held up her hands. "Okay wait, just let me explain! After my family lost our mansion last year, I could only keep one horse? Which was devastating! I needed to fill the void of hoofed mammals in my life somehow."

Mabel leaned over the fence. "So you got alpacas?"

"I was actually inspired by the llama sweater you gave me." Pacifica gave Mabel a small, crooked smile. "It reminded me that I've always secretly thought alpacas are cute, and I really like alpaca wool goods, so I thought... you know... what if I try it out?" She opened the gate, gesturing for the twins to follow her toward a small barn. "And I actually really love it! These are like, my babies. And I'm talking with some fashion brands about maybe selling them some luxury wool?"

She led them into the barn, and then into a small office being cooled by a window A/C unit. Several wool garments, protected in glass cases, were proudly displayed on the walls with labels underneath: "First Sweater", "First Scarf", "First Blanket"—

"Hey!" Mabel pointed at the familiar blanket, creamy white with the anti-Bill zodiac in ochre yellow. "That's the one I made! Did the yarn you sent me to make it come from your alpacas?"

"It did! You're the first person to make anything with their wool."

"Whoa."

"I actually want to use my symbol from the circle as our brand. I'm waiting to hear from my copyright lawyer about who I need to talk to for the rights to the image—if it's you or your great-uncle, or if it's still with the tribe that left the valley like a thousand years ago, or if it's public domain," Pacifica said. "It's a vague enough shape, I think it could look like either a llama or an alpaca, right?"

Mabel considered what Bill had said about Pacifica's symbol, considered the small alpaca herd visible through the office window, and said, "I have it on good authority that it's supposed to be an alpaca."

"So, wait," Dipper said. "What does this have to do with your modeling job?"

"The ranch isn't turning a profit yet. I'm still in talks with the brands that want our wool, and in the meantime I've got to hire more people to help. I don't know the hard stuff about taking care of alpacas, I just kind of brush their wool and make friends with them while my employees do the hard stuff."

Dipper snorted.

"Hey! I'm learning! But I've only been doing this a few months." Pacifica sank down into her desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. "Almost all my allowance and side gig income is going toward my alpacas. My parents don't want to invest in my startup!" She pouted. "They said if I want to act like a rancher instead of a socialite, it'll be on my own dime."

"So that's why you're working two summer jobs?" Dipper said. "Oh, man. I should have known something was up. I thought it was weird when you said your parents wouldn't pay for a spring and summer wardrobe."

"Yeah, I spent my spring wardrobe budget on this barn," Pacifica said. "I figure I'm investing in my future wardrobe, you know?"

Mabel planted her hands on Pacifica's desk. "Pacifica, I can see how important this is. I've run a business myself—I appreciate the pressure you're under. But, how about this: we could help each other! If you get us a tiiiny bit of that formula, I'll come over once a week for the rest of summer to help out with your alpacas. For free!"

Pacifica blinked. "What?"

"And that way, even if you do get in trouble and lose your Hairy Fairy job, you'll still have someone to help you out!"

Dipper's eyes widened. "Um—Pacifica, could you give us a moment?" He grabbed Mabel's elbow and tugged her out of the office.

"What is it?"

Dipper whispered, "Are you sure you wanna make that kind of commitment for the rest of summer? For Bill's sake?"

"Dipperrr, it's like working in a petting zoo!" She gestured toward the office window. "Look at how soft they are!"

"Oh, boy."

"And maybe I could get some luxury alpaca wool! I'm gonna have the fanciest sweaters."

Dipper grimaced, but decided Mabel would probably have looked for an excuse to spend time around the alpacas regardless of the situation. "Okay. Have at her." He nodded back toward the office.

When Mabel and Dipper came back in, Pacifica was sitting up straighter, hands laced on her desk, a miniature businesswoman entertaining a business proposal. "I appreciate the offer," Pacifica said. "But I don't think a few hours of labor a week balance out the profits I could make at my modeling job. It just doesn't make financial sense. I'm sorry, Mabel. I've got to think of my alpacas."

"I understand. But—I've got to think of my not-friend. If you could just see..." She trailed off as a thought occurred to her. "Dipper! Let me get in your backpack."

"Um, okay—?"

Mabel rummaged around in the main pouch. "I'm sure we left it... Ha!" She slapped down a ziplock bag containing the lock of Bill's hair that they'd collected to make his poppet. "This... is the person I'm trying to help." She crossed her arms triumphantly. "Okay, not the person, but it's his hair anyway."

Pacifica's brows shot up. "Oh, wow." She opened the bag and carefully extracted a few strands to examine. "This is the most golden golden hair I've ever seen. And look at it. Little oily, could use a good conditioner, damaged roots, but otherwise amazing health, no split ends..." Pacifica looked at Mabel, pointed at the baggie, and asked, "Virgin?"

Mabel laughed nervously. "I have no idea and I never ever want to find out."

"No! I mean is this the natural color and texture, or has it been treated?"

"Oh. I'm pretty sure it just came like that?" She looked at Dipper.

Dipper shrugged. "I mean, probably? I doubt he hit up a salon before coming to the Mystery Shack."

"And... you say he had a bad haircut?" Pacifica asked. "What does he look like now?"

Gently, Mabel said, "Bald."

Pacifica let out the softest gasp. "Okay. I get it. I'll help. And also send over a couple of conditioner samplers, because whoever your friend is, he has not been taking care of his hair lately. Natural beauty can only carry him so far. I'll have the conditioners overnighted to your shack."

"Great!" A wide smile broke out across Mabel's face. "Thank you so much, Pacifica! And the formula, too?"

"Actually, I can give you that right now." Pacifica pulled a small green Hairy Fairy bottle from one of her overall pockets.

Mabel gasped in delight. Dipper said, "Wait, you had that the whole time?"

"When we escaped the country club, I accidentally still had the bottle we'd used for the live demonstration in my pocket," Pacifica said. "I was going to replace it tomorrow morning before anyone goes looking for it; I'll just give you guys a few drops and make up the difference with a little alpaca shampoo. Hopefully, nobody will notice the difference."

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you're the best!"

"I know." Pacifica leaned across the desk to put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Just promise me one thing."

"Sure! What?"

"I won't be able to do this a second time," Pacifica said. "So you'd better make sure your friend takes care of his hair."

####

Bill squinted at the chocolate chip-sized dollop of lotion at the bottom of the quart-sized plastic food container. "Gotta hand it to you, Shooting Star. This is the funniest way you could have transported the formula."

"We forgot to bring anything to put it in." Mabel snapped on a pair of yellow dish gloves and pointed at the kitchen floor. "Okay! Sit down so I can reach and let me work my magic."

"What, don't think I can handle it myself?" But he sat down even as he protested. He'd already removed his cardboard triangle helmet—which now sat, battered and bent, on the kitchen table—and had washed off his paint/makeup as well as he could without requesting shower access.

Mabels scooped the dollop of lotion onto one gloved finger, then massaged it across her fingertips. "I'm your official makeup artist now! I've gotta do it. Besides, you missed a chunk of hair when you were removing it, you'd probably miss a chunk when you were putting it back on."

"Eh, fair enough. Okay kid, do your worst."

As Mabel coated Bill's scalp, the chemical burns he'd given himself while removing his hair vanished, replaced with new healthy skin—and Dipper quietly lamented, once again, that this stuff was being marketed to grow hair and not regrow limbs. He'd have to document it thoroughly in his journal later.

Dipper was sitting at the bottom of the attic stairs, watching the proceedings in the kitchen, armed with Mabel's grappling gun to use as a projectile weapon if Bill dared try anything. But Bill just sat there, legs crossed with his feet on his thighs and his hands palm-up on his knees like he was meditating, not even turning his head as Mabel worked.

Mabel jerked her hands back in surprise as a fresh layer of golden hair sprang out of Bill's scalp—then quickly reached in again, massaging the lotion into all the strands and coaxing them out until they were all around shoulder length, the same as they'd started. "There! Ta-da! Good as new!"

As the hair crawled down Bill's temples, tickled his ears, brushed his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and clenched his jaw, straining hard to keep from moving. His open hands curled into fists. Dipper raised the grappling hook. But when Bill turned to face Mabel, he was all grins again, and if Dipper hadn't known to look for it he wouldn't have noticed the anxious tic in Bill's eyebrow. "Well? How do I look?"

"Gorgeous! If the real Goldilocks saw you, she'd have to change her name in shame."

"Ha! That's what I like to hear!" Bill un-pretzeled his legs and stood up. "And you did it without giving me any spare eyebrows, too." So he did know about the side-effects.

"Oh, pfff, yeah, I'm not lowering my guard around that stuff again. The first time I opened a bottle, I got some on me and grew an extra hand!"

"No! Really?" Bill gave Mabel's gloved hands a skeptical look. "Where's it now?"

"I donated it to the Hand Witch."

"Ahh, pity. You could've had some fun with your temporary crown."

"'Crown'?"

"Most fingers in the household?"

Mabel's eyes bugged out, and then a manic smile took over her face, as if her brain had just been flooded with more glee than her face could process. She yanked off the gloves, hastily rubbed them on her left wrist, and shouted, "GRUNKLE FOOORD!" She sprinted through the entryway and took the turn down the hallway so fast she ran a couple steps up on the wall before landing back on the floor. "Grunkle Ford, guess what!"

Dipper almost followed her—until he caught Bill moving in the corner of his eye, bending down to pick up the discarded gloves. Dipper raised the grappling hook. What was Bill planning to do with them—use the remainder to mutate himself? Save them to use later? Eat them—?

Bill dropped the gloves in the plastic container the lotion had come in, sealed the lid, and dropped them in the kitchen waste bin. Under his breath, he muttered, "The last thing I need is the pig sniffing this and growing an extra snout." He paused. "Wait. That would be funny."

From the other side of the house, Ford's voice bellowed, "BILL!"

Bill's head snapped around to face the kitchen doorway—and for the first time he glanced at Dipper sitting on the stairs. "Hey. What do you bet he didn't even let Mabel explain before deciding this is my fault?"

"Uh..."

Mabel and Ford's approach could be tracked through Mabel's hasty explanation: "Grunkle Ford, it's just a prank! I'm okay, see? I'm gonna donate Mirhanda to the Hand Witch, it'll be fine—"

The moment Ford saw Bill, he made a beeline for him and seized him by his t-shirt collar. "What did you do to her?! Answer me, Cipher!"

"I didn't! I'm innocent! I plea the fifth! I've been falsely accused! I was framed! Mercy!" The sincerity of his pleas was somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn't stop laughing the whole time Ford was trying to menace him. His too-wide gleeful smile looked a lot like Mabel's.

####

"Okay, Pacifica," the director said. "This commercial is for the teen market, so we want you to talk to the camera like you're talking to your peers, all right? And by that, I don't mean your real peers. I mean the slightly less rich girls who would do anything you asked to be considered one of your peers."

"Don't worry, I've got this," Pacifica said. She positioned herself on her stool, hands laced over her knees, and said, "Ready when you are."

"And... action!"

Pacifica gave the camera her best haughty-but-not-too-haughty look, the one that said maybe if you say something interesting to me I'll double your social standing for fun, and launched into her memorized lines: "Hey, I'm Pacifica Northwest—you all know me, most of you probably want to be me. Listen, girls: have you ever tried to go short and it just didn't work out? Maybe that pixie cut makes your ears look weird, maybe those bangs are not for you. If you wish you looked as great as me, I have just the thing for you..."

Everything continued as normal, until Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula was applied to her hair... and nothing happened. Pacifica stumbled over a word, and then kept going, as if maybe no one would notice if she didn't draw attention to it. As she was wrapping up her monologue, her hair finally... slowly started growing... and stopped at half its usual length. Pacifica bit her lip.

"Pacifica!"

She winced and turned toward her boss, feigning a look of innocent surprise. "Yes, Mr. Haroldson?"

"What did you put in your hair! You know you're not supposed to have any product in your hair on shoot days!"

"Nothinggg! I've been following my hair care instructions perfectly! And I had it rinsed just before the shoot like always!"

"Well—what's the problem, then?" Mr. Haroldson turned to the hazmat-suited hairdresser holding the formula bottle.

"I don't know." He took off his mask. "This is the same sample bottle we used at the country club demonstration, it should be fine..." He took a sniff of it, and grimaced. "What...? That's not our usual fragrance, is it?" Mr. Haroldson leaned over to sniff as well.

She'd been found out. She was doomed. Her poker face collapsed like a house of cards. "Okay fine I took a few drops for a friend and maybe replaced it with a little bit of shampoo, so what!" She pointed at Mr. Haroldson. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? Fire me? Go ahead, see if I care! I can get a million better modeling jobs in a week!"

Mr. Haroldson's expression darkened in rage—and then he said, "Pacifica, you're a genius!"

"Huh?"

"Watering it down! Of course! We can sell unaltered bottles to hook new customers and then stretch out our supply by giving repeat customers the weak stuff—we'll tell them that it's less effective if they're overusing it! We can keep up that scam for years, it's not like the FDA is regulating this stuff! Why, we could even make a whole new product!" He turned to wave at an assistant, "Call R&D, get R&D on the phone—we'll make a formula designed to grow short hair. We can call it... Pixie Dust Pixie Cuts! It's all thanks to you, Pacifica!" He beamed at her.

She beamed back.

He said, "You're not getting credit or a raise though."

"Pshhh, obviously. I know how this industry works."

"All right, back to work." He pointed at the director. "Crack open a new bottle and let's wrap this up ASAP. I've got to schedule some meetings about the new product line."

####

"Well, he didn't grow himself eight arms," Dipper said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He was going over a map of Gravity Falls he'd taken from the gift shop, circling locations of potential paranormal activity he wanted to investigate over the summer. Bill-tainted places got an additional triangle. "And I took out the kitchen trash to make sure Bill couldn't go back for the formula later. I guess he wasn't up to anything after all." He paused. "... Unless he wanted the formula in our trash, and now it's multiplying the garbage or getting picked up by some sleeper agent outside the shack—"

"Stooop," Mabel said. She was carefully coloring in a green bottle of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula in Dipper's journal; Dipper had started entrusting his journal's art duties to Mabel whenever they went on a joint investigation. "We can't start thinking like that! Remember, our therapist told us that paranoia is a natural coping mechanism for dealing with scary situations, but trusting people is healthy and a sign of healing!" She set down the journal so she could emphasize the word "healing" with jazz hands.

"I think that's supposed to apply to trusting normal people."

"Yeah, but still." The journal flipped a few pages as she picked it back up, and her eyes were caught by scribbles in bright highlighter yellow. "Hey, what's this new stuff? Did you make up a secret code to keep notes in? Can I learn?"

"Ugh. No, Bill did that. I left my journal out and he wrote a bunch of secret messages. It's probably telling me how I'm going to die or the names of all the girls who will reject me or something."

"Pff, probably. Have you shown Grunkle Ford? Maybe he knows it."

"Not yet. He's been too busy."

"Right..." And now, she was sure, he was probably mad at her personally for worrying him with the hand prank.

Mabel flipped through a few more pages, looking at the bright yellow notes. She glanced toward the window, scanning the trees outside. She sighed and got up, leaving Dipper's journal on her bed.

"What's up?"

"Now you've got me worrying about sleeper agents. I'm gonna make sure the gloves are still in the trash."

When she'd confirmed all the garbage was right where it was supposed to be and came back in the shack, she spotted Bill in the living room. He was scrunched up on one side of the sofa as close to the doorway as he could get, watching TV. He glanced over as she shut the front door and flashed a grin. "Hey, Shooting Star. What're you up to?"

Ah, great. They were on casual chit-chat terms now. She edged toward the doorway but stayed outside the living room—sorry, not staying long—and said, "Oh, you know, just—looking at... the outdoors." Before he could dig further, she changed the topic. "So! How's that hair working out for you?"

"Ah." His smile wilted and his glance drifted back toward the TV. (He seemed to be watching the local news. Mabel decided he must've been really bored.) "Well, hair's still the worst thing that's ever grown on me and I still see a human in the mirror—but at least it's a human with a vaguely triangular silhouette. I can live with being back where I started."

"Sorry we couldn't come up with a real solution." As glad as she was to finish her obligation to Bill, she hated that all her efforts hadn't even really helped. Some problem-solver she was.

"Yeah, well. You can't build a pyramid out of meat. You did the best you could." Bill turned to fully face Mabel. "But, hey—listen." He had one eye squeezed shut but the other one stared her down with the intensity of a spotlight, paralyzing her in place. "Even if it's not perfect, I appreciate the effort you put in."

"Hey, it's no big deal. Crafts are my whole thing! It was kinda fun."

"No, I'm serious," Bill said. "I know I'm the town bogeyman, and everyone's only putting up with me until they find the easiest way to obliterate me. But you did a lot more than just 'put up with me.' And, well—don't tell the others I said this," he rolled his eye toward the hall to the rest of the house, and lowered his voice, "but... it's been a long time since anybody's treated me with a little kindness. Longer than you can imagine. I think I'd forgotten what it feels like. Even if I don't have much time left to enjoy it—I'm grateful for the reminder, kid."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Bill, that..." A lump formed in her throat. How long had it been? As big a jerk as he was—centuries? Millennia?

She darted into the living room, squeezed Bill in a hug before he could protest, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.

And Bill thought to himself, got her.

Humans were so easy. Once you figured out what they wanted to believe in, you could make them do anything you wanted.

Mabel wanted to believe that everyone everywhere yearned to be friends with everyone else, and that the only thing holding them back was the defensive walls they built around their emotions. Mabel wanted to see people's walls come down. Mabel wanted every social problem to be simple enough that even a child could solve it if they were earnest and honest enough.

Mabel shouldn't have let Bill watch Color Critters. It told him too much about the kind of world she idealized. He had that kid completely figured out—

There was a loud pounding as Mabel leaped back down the stairs three at a time. "On your feet!" She grabbed Bill's hands and tugged him off the sofa, then wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.

He twisted around in bewilderment as she circled him, now measuring his chest. "What—?"

"Face forward! Arms out from your sides!" She measured his shoulder span, then grabbed one arm to measure the length. "I'll be back later. I've got work to do. Do not come upstairs!"

Bill leaned out the doorway to watch her bunny-hop back up to the attic.

Okay, he had that kid mostly figured out.

Well, the odd quirks just made her a little more interesting than the average human. The important thing was that, whether she knew it or not, she wanted Bill to be her friend. She wanted to be the horse girl who tamed the hostile bronco, the beauty who saved the beast. She wanted monsters to swear their loyalty to cute spunky protagonists, and she thought she was a protagonist.

The "reformed bad boy" was outside of the usual characters he played—he was better as the ancient teacher, the playful trickster, the divine messenger—but it was an easy enough role, and it gave him plenty of room to misbehave while staying in character. It's so hard to change my old ways—but maybe it would be easier if you give me another chance, if you help me, if you do this one little thing for me...

There was a fun little quirk of human psychology that was so well-known they'd even given their own name to it: the Foot-In-The-Door Technique. Once you get a human to do you one small, tiny little favor, they'll be more likely to do you another, bigger favor later. Borrow a dollar today and they'll be more likely to let you borrow a hundred dollars next week. Ask them to drive you to the auto shop and you'll have a better chance of asking them to help you move. Get them to bring you a little hair solution, and... well, Bill would just have to wait and see what he wanted next.

As long as everything Bill asked for was harmless, there was nothing the warier members of the household could do to intervene without making themselves look like the unreasonable ones. And by the time Bill started asking for anything dangerous, he'd have Mabel eating out of the palm of his hand, and she'd have no idea until it was too late that she didn't mean a thing to him—

####

Bill stared dumbly in the mirror at the yellow yarn hoodie. "H—Did you just make this?" With his arms at his sides, from the shoulders down, it looked like a decapitated triangle.

"I used velvet yarn for your brick pattern," Mabel said. "It makes the lines stand out more! And I cut one of Dipper's bow ties in half to make the hood's drawstring so you can tie it into a bow!"

Wordlessly, Bill tied the bow—it hung in the center of his chest—and then he pulled the hood on, tugging it low over his forehead, completing the triangle. Mabel had put an eye on the hood. She'd even remembered Bill's eyelashes.

"I thought, hey—if the mask was too much, and the hair is too little, maybe a hoodie's just right," Mabel said. "I don't usually make sweaters for people—sweater curse, blarrr, you know—but, this one time, I thought it was important." She gave Bill a nervous smile. "So... what do you think? Do you like it?"

Bill stared at his reflection. It was hideous, misshapen, and alien, but it was almost himself.

He looked at Mabel. He got down on his knees. He put a hand on her shoulder. He said, "I will kill one enemy of yours, for free, no questions asked, in any way you want."

Mabel blinked. "Please don't do that."

"When I take over the universe I'm giving you your own galaxy."

"I don't—I don't want a galaxy. What would I do with a whole galaxy?"

"A solar system. A planet? Everyone wants their own planet!"

Mabel shook her head.

"Then what do you want?" What the heck do human children like. "Can I show you a magic trick?"

Mabel considered that.

####

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel ran into the kitchen, pushing Waddles in front of her, breathless with excitement. "Look what I can do!" She held a clear plastic spoon at arm's length, peered through it at Waddles like it was a magnifying glass, and slowly lifted the spoon up. Waddles floated up into the air as well. He snorted in mild bafflement.

Stan's jaw dropped. Ford said, "Ohhh, boy."

Mabel beamed at them both.

####

(This chapter isn't quite as edited as I usually do, because I've been sick this past week but wanted to get it out anyway. Apologies for that and I'd appreciate if you noticed any typos or disjointed sentences! And I'd doubly appreciate any nice comments, I've been having a hell of a week.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #mabel pines #fanfic #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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emphistic · 2 months ago

Text

Deja Vu

A/N: Bury Me at Makeout Creek

<- series m.list

And autumn comes when you’re not yet done

With the summer passing by, but

I don’t think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

Sukuna had fallen in love with a war, when nobody told him it had ended.

Broken bottles and fallen chairs and shredded papers decorated the already messy floor. Sukuna’s apartment was a battlefield, and so was his mind. He simply just didn’t get it. . . Sukuna was the moon, when you wanted the stars. And for that very reason, he had lost everything.

He had no other reason to stay, no ulterior motive. And he certainly wasn’t wrong when he said there was no reason for the two of you to continue the fake relationship.

Sukuna was hurt. He had come to terms with it long ago. You didn’t love him, for he was merely a “token of luck” for you, and that was all there was to it. But, at the same time, he wanted you to be happy. And if he needed to leave for that to happen, he would. Still, he couldn’t help the thought that came into his mind, that he hoped—no, wanted—you to be happier with him, rather than with Naoki Ito.

Was he foolish for thinking he was more of the man you needed, compared to Naoki?

Fuck. He was hurt, and he was far from coming to terms with it.

Sukuna often found himself asking why he loved you. And every single time, he was left with no answer. Why? Why did he love you? Even after you tore his heart out, and ripped it to shreds, without even knowing it yourself, he still loved you.

Vulnerability. A noun, as said by Oxford Languages, meaning “the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.” It was an emotion Sukuna showed once every blue moon. Yet, with you, it seemed the opposite. You were a special girl to Sukuna. One which he had known since childhood. The thought of him having to let your memories merely fade away to the past was unbearable.

Sukuna hated you so much. But in his world, love and hate were so similar, that he knew not the line which crossed between them. It was blurry. It was foggy. But it definitely couldn’t be non-existent, right?

That fateful day, after Sukuna exited your kitchen, he walked back into the living room, told the two cousins on the couch he was called into work, and simply left. You only knew this, because, when you came back into the living room, soon after wiping away stray tears on the sleeve of your sweater and splashing your face with cold water, Naoki and Eileen were quick to question you.

“Why did it take so long?”

“Does microwaving popcorn really take almost ten minutes?”

You had missed the beginning of White Chicks, but it didn’t matter much to you, you had already seen the movie quite a few times before. And, taking everything into account, an American 2000s comedy film probably wasn’t enough to get rid of the prominent tear stains on your pillow that very night.

Naoki had asked you if he could stay the night, using traffic as an argument, and even going as far as to suggest the idea of using your spare bedroom, but you outright rejected him. Saying the traffic near you wasn’t usually as bad on Saturdays as on other days.

Of course, that was a lie. Your street was busier than most locations, and still, you didn’t feel an ounce bad for making up a mere fib. You just couldn’t bear the thought of another man taking up the bed previously used by a notorious man with pink hair. Your heart wasn’t taken by Naoki, and your bed wouldn’t be, either.

Eileen exited your apartment after the movie ended, followed suit by her male cousin. The blonde left without a word to you, save for a small mumble of “Good night”, but that was it.

You didn’t know why you felt so empty inside. Everything that happened, happened because of you. You said yes to being Naoki’s girlfriend, and you told Sukuna that you two should end the fake relationship; you were the sole puppeteer. And yet, you felt like a doll attached to the strings.

Everything played out the way you made it, but none of it played out how you wanted it.

Confusion. Guilt. Regret.

Three emotions that hung heavy in your heart.

The whole two weeks you spent with Sukuna, you spent making a grave mistake. You thought of no one but yourself. The arranged relationship? Was for your benefit: to lift the curse. Sukuna? Was your pawn: did everything you suggested. Naoki? Was your opportunity to experience making macaroni with someone.

Was I always this selfish? you asked yourself, while laying in bed one night. It was quiet in the apartment, save for the distant grumble of your fridge, and the wind blowing against your curtains, and the sheets rustling every time you shifted in bed, unable to fall victim to Hypnos.

The thought process behind your poorly executed actions was simply that you had too much on your plate. You were in two relationships at once. But your heart was in one spot. And that confused you. What you’ve always wanted since childhood now seemed dull and insignificant. Was this what you really wanted?

You couldn’t continue the relationship with Sukuna because you had to end the one with Naoki first. And, speaking of which, you had no clue why you took up being Naoki’s girlfriend. Maybe you couldn’t bring yourself to decline someone who seemed so innocent. It just didn’t feel right.

But, at the same time, as you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with an arm beneath your head, you couldn’t help feeling sick to your stomach. These weren’t butterflies, this feeling wasn’t love. You were wrong. You were so, so wrong. You should’ve never even gotten yourself into this mess in the first place. And now, instead of only hurting yourself, you were hurting not one, but two other people. Two people who didn’t deserve what you were putting them through.

When Naoki grabbed your hand, you almost instinctively pulled it away, clearly not used to another man’s touch other than . . . Sukuna’s. . . Fuck.

It was the weekend, and you were ice skating with Naoki. It was a simple outing, an activity you found yourself having taken a liking to, and you should’ve been enjoying it. But . . . you weren’t. You couldn’t help yourself drifting off to the thought of Sukuna. He promised to teach you hockey when winter came; the weather would be colder, and the only warmth you could gather was from his hand intertwined with your own.

But winter seemed so far, and so impossible, that you almost threw away any dream you previously dreamt, and simply bit your tongue.

Your gloved hand shakingly took up Naoki’s, as the two of you glided across the ice at a moderate pace. Your bottom lip trembled, and you clumsily skated, nearly knocking into other couples on the ice as the both of you went on and on and on.

“I’m not really good at this, as you can probably tell,” Naoki began, “but you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“My . . . friend taught me; I told you, remember? He is—he was a good teacher,” you mumbled, turning your head away from Naoki’s.

A friend. That’s what Sukuna was to you for two decades. A companion, a neighbor, a comeade, someone you could trust. Sukuna was a friend. And now, he was but a stranger, whose face you could only hold on to in your dreams.

In the past, mainly when you were a little younger, you had dreams about people that didn’t exist (Well, that’s what you concluded). You could never remember their faces when you woke up, it was always a blur; a fuzzy, distinct memory that often seemed like a mere figment of your imagination.

That’s how the name Sukuna Ryomen felt to you now. Hearing it made your heart drop to your stomach, and you always looked around your surroundings to see if you could spot his unruly, pink hair, that you loved so much—yet not enough to keep—so that you could bring him back, and tell him how stupid, and how much of an idiot you were back there.

You knew Sukuna wouldn’t like it if you did that, he wouldn’t want you to pull him back into the tide. But fuck, you were a selfish person, who wanted nothing more than to do just that.

Naoki smiled, “Right. I forgot. . . Anyway, let’s go sit down somewhere. I heard there’s ice cream here, y’know.”

You turned back to Naoki. “Oh, really? That sounds nice, we should try it.”

“We should.”

“I didn’t take you for a chocolate person.”

You laughed. “Really? How do you mean?”

Naoki shrugged, a subtle smile on his lips. “. . .The reason Sukuna left that night . . . surely wasn’t just because of work, right?”

Did he know? Did Sukuna tell him? Did you accidentally tell him at one point? There was no way he could’ve found out on his own. You’ve never told a soul other than Sukuna about the “curse” and you certainly never told anyone about the arranged relationship. So then, how. . ?

Before you could ask any questions, Naoki beat you to it. “You don’t have to lie. Lying too much is . . . a bad habit to have. I’m sure you would know.” Naoki’s smile wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold. It was a smile of acceptance; he had learned everything he needed to learn.

You weren’t going to outright confess everything in a shopping mall to a man you didn’t know as well as you thought you did, and you sure as hell weren’t going to talk about how you felt about Sukuna, but you didn’t see the point in trying to hide the fact that you and Naoki shouldn’t be together anymore. You had lied for so long. To Sukuna. To Naoki. And to yourself.

Furrowing your brows, you sighed a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’m sorry. You’ve been so nice and such a great listener, and I’ve. . . I’ve been . . . just me,” you shakily inhaled before continuing. “Naoki, I’m sorry. You’re great, you’re a wonderful guy, and I’m glad I got to spend the time I spent with you. I’m just—I. . . Everything is moving so fast for me, and I’ve been nothing but a huge dick to everyone around. It’s just. . . It’s complicated, and I. . .” Your voice trailed off, as you felt your eyes get wet. Crying in public was definitely a first for you. And today would not be the day.

“Look, I may not understand everything that’s going on, but I see everything going on. And I know, if we stay together any longer, you’ll spend the rest of your time as my girlfriend searching for another person in me that . . . doesn’t exist,” Naoki sighed. “I can assure you of that much.”

“Nao. . .” Your eyes softened as you peered into the copper-haired man’s face, but his head was casted downwards, and his bangs covered his eyes. You could barely see his mouth move as he spoke to you with a quiet voice.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I . . . feel sorry for you, actually, that you had to bury your feelings for so long. That’s probably the only part I can sympathize with you on. But. . . I tried, I really tried. But ‘like’ and ‘love’ are very different things. And the difference between what we feel for each other is very prominent,” Naoki added, saying your name with a dull tone.

“. . .Naoki, I really, really wish we could’ve met when I was more mature. When I was a lot less confused, and a lot more . . . together, composed, I’m not sure. But, it’s been . . . a time. A ride. A chapter. But maybe, it was the wrong chapter. The wrong book, even,” you tried joking; “. . .I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Naoki Ito. You deserve so much better, but I can’t give you much better, and I will always be forever regretful of that.”

Naoki nodded. “I know. I know you’re full of regrets. But we’re in our twenties, and we have the rest of our lives to live. As much I miss this, as much as I miss you, I know there’s more for me out there. And there’s more for you out there, if you put your mind to it. It’s . . . embarrassing to spend the rest of your life hung up on heartbreak. I’ll tell you that.

“You’re a beautiful, exceptional girl. Being with someone you don’t love, and putting on a mask all day, isn’t your fate. I’m not going to hold you back from what you really want. So, this is goodbye.”

You walked home, soon after. With a heavy heart in your hand, that still beat for someone miles away. Huh, being selfish was so strange.

It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and I need you now.

Said I wouldn’t call, but I’ve lost all control and I need you now

And I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now

You weren’t planning on spending the rest of your night drunk out of your mind, but being spontaneous was pretty much your thing at this point.

Alcohol is known to affect your brain. According to an article you read: It’s a depressant, which can disrupt the balance of neurotransmitters in your brain, affecting your feelings, thoughts, and behavior. In summary, alcohol affects the part of your brain that controls inhibition, so feeling relaxed, less anxious, or more confident after a drink is always a definite possibility.

In your apartment, you had a classy collection of drinks to choose from. But, maybe it was a mistake for Sukuna to supply you with his favorite bottle of beer, because that’s all you wanted now. You didn’t drink beer very often, but it burned especially good when it was accompanied by the feeling of longing for a man so far away.

Blinking back tears, your shaking fingers clumsily dialed a number you could only manage to remember when you were half-asleep and in need of comfort. You usually held the phone up to your ear, but this time, you put the call on speaker. You had nothing to lose, after all. You were alone, with the stars and moon, and your dignity.

The call was answered within two rings, and you wasted no time in saying, “Sukuna, I—I. . . I don’t know what to—hic—do. I need—”

You would’ve gone on and on about how sorry you were, and how much you needed him, but the drunk version of you had an incredibly flexible mind. And when Sukuna cut you off before you could say those three formidable words, and asked, “What did you have to drink?” you immediately forgot about what you were going to say before.

Your excitement for hearing Sukuna’s voice after what seemed like a millenium couldn’t be contained, and your heart felt ten times lighter. Blinking, your reply came almost instantly. “Just—just a few beers. Why . . . do you ask?”

Sukuna hummed from the other line. “Not in a mood for Chardonnay, I take it?”

“N-no,” you furrowed your brows, chewing on your bottom lip. “I wanted something that reminded me of you. I wanted to drink your favorite drink. . . And, when I opened the bottle, it felt like I could feel your hands on it from the last time you opened it for me. I wish—”

“Those things are tough. Why didn’t you just use a bottle opener?”

“I don’t like bottle openers. I like when you used to open bottles for me,” you nearly burst out sobbing, which was just utterly insane, considering the bittersweet smile you had on your face. “I . . . miss y—”

“I know you do, and, to be frank, that just makes me feel a lot better about everything. I mean, why wouldn’t you miss me? I gave you what you’ve always wanted, I lifted your stupid fuckin’ curse, I’m—I’m basically your Lord and Savior, now,” joked a laughing Sukuna. He was frustrated, so frustrated. Because, despite it all, he still fucking loved you. Even after you broke his heart. Even after you unconsciously made him relapse. None of that mattered, because you were you, and Sukuna would always love that.

Drunk You didn’t understand any of what Sukuna was saying, and so you ultimately dismissed his words. Your voice softened as you added, “I’m—I’m worried. I . . . don’t want other memories to replace ours. I miss our cooking nights together, Sukuna. I really miss—”

“Do you miss having someone to make macaroni and cheese with, or do you miss me?”

“. . .Is there a right answer to that?” You laughed mindlessly, taking another swig from your glass.

“There’s a right answer to everything, if you put your heart to it. Go to sleep, sweetheart. There’ll be alka-seltzer in your cabinet when you wake up.”

You awoke the next morning with an empty bottle in your hand, prominent eye bags, and a bad back, because you had slept on the couch that night before. Your first thought was to go back to sleep, but you decided against that, and stalked around the apartment like a zombie in search of brains, until you found a box of hangover relief in your cabinet. I didn’t put that there, you thought, but you took the tablets anyway.

Hangovers didn’t wait for anyone, and you definitely weren’t going to question a miracle from God.

“So, what’s up? We haven’t hung at your place in a while; it looks nice.” Yuuji had arrived at your door fifteen minutes after you told him you needed someone to confide in. He was a naturally very nosy person, but something told you his speed was because he wanted to help a friend out.

“I need advice,” you said, setting two cups of coffee on the table. You clearly hadn’t learned your lesson on the harm in inviting a friend over to your apartment for drinks, except this time, you would finally be sober.

“Yeah, you look like you need advice. Sorry, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but, you look like shit.”

“Uh huh. I feel like shit, too. It’s been a rough two weeks since I last heard from you. There’s a lot we need to catch up on,” you laughed, taking a sip from your mug.

“Spill.”

“I fucked your brother.”

There was a pregnant pause. Yuuji couldn’t even look you in the face, not because he was surprised—spoiler alert: he wasn’t—but because he simply wasn’t expecting you to be so frank. You? Sukuna? Why did no one tell him anything? Were you asking for advice about getting into a real relationship with Sukuna? Or were you two past that, and looking to get married?

“. . .Deadass. . ?”

“. . .No, I’m just kidding. But, we did . . . kiss. And, we did date, but it wasn’t. . . It was casual, it was just—I don’t know. It was fake. Okay, it was fake. That’s—that’s what it was.”

“And I take it, you wanted it to be real?”

Yuuji could be so smart sometimes, you mentally laughed.

“That’s the thing, Yuuji. I do, but I also don’t. But I do, but. . . I need advice, okay.”

“Duh. Tell me from the beginning.” Yuuji situated himself in a comfortable position, with his legs crossed on your table, and his arms resting on the back of the couch. He had a feeling he was going to be here for a long time.

You hesitantly started by explaining your curse. And how it’s been a dream of yours since forever to be able to make macaroni and cheese with someone you loved. But, you just never had an opportunity to do that, because you couldn’t get a partner who liked macaroni and cheese like you did.

“So, one day, when I was especially bored, and Sukuna was over at my place, I told him all of what I just told you. And, I brought up my idea on how I could get rid of my ‘curse’ and, surprisingly, he agreed to it. We would get into a fake relationship—because he liked macaroni and cheese—and cross our fingers and pray that the gods above would lift my curse and grant me a boyfriend who fit my rubric.”

Yuuji looked conflicted. “But Sukuna doesn’t like. . . Never mind, continue.”

“Later that night, we went out for drinks at a bar. I ran into a friend of mine, Eileen Mifune, and coincidentally, she was with her cousin, Naoki Ito. He’s, like, this super adorably dorky guy. Copper hair, super shy when we first met, you get the vision. But, yeah. We exchanged numbers, since I thought he was a nice guy, y’know?”

Yuuji nodded, completely engaged in your story.

“The next day, Sukuna and I watched Pride and Prejudice—”

“Let me guess, Sukuna was being a dick about the movie and everything in it?”

“Bingo. So, we watched Pride and Prejudice. Or, at least, we tried to. Uhm. . . Some things came up, and we may or may not have gotten a bit carried away and started. . . We kissed. Like, a lot. And I liked it. I really liked it.”

“Is that the conflict?”

“No, there’s more. We were interrupted by Naoki calling me, and he was asking to see me. Wanted me to show him around the city, or something. Did I mention he was looking for a place to stay? Sorry. But, anyway, I agreed.

“We were walking to a restaurant I knew, since he doesn’t have a car, when out of the blue, it started raining. We agreed to walk back to my place, since the restaurant was still a lot farther, and we ended up making macaroni and cheese together.”

“Like you’ve always wanted? Isn’t that a good thing, then?”

“. . .It should’ve been. Moving on, the next day, I invited Sukuna over, and I proposed that we should start seeing other people, since, at the time, I thought Naoki was interested in me, and that I was interested in him. Sukuna ended up agreeing.

“We told the cousins we had simply lost interest in each other, and I started going on dates with Naoki. We hung out pretty often. And, from what I’ve assumed, Sukuna did the same with Eileen.

“Some time later, I invited Sukuna over, and we made macaroni and cheese while he told me the story of that catastrophic Thanksgiving dinner you guys had. My condolences to Choso, by the way,” you added.

“Ohh, yeah, that.” Yuuji scratched the back of his neck. “I still feel bad about that.”

“Uh huh. Anyway. . . Oh! I found out he watched Sausage Party!”

“For real? I’ve been nagging him for years, though, so can’t say I’m surprised.”

“We kissed . . . after eating the mac n’ cheese, and he stayed the night.

“The next day, I invited Naoki over. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and. . . I said yes, because I didn’t know what else to say, to be honest. And, it did feel like I was obligated to. I’m just. . . I’m really confused, Yuuji.”

“Would you have said ‘yes’ if Sukuna wasn’t part of the story?”

“. . .I wouldn’t have met Naoki if Sukuna wasn’t part of the story.”

“Don’t be like that. I mean in general.”

“No, I wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ because . . . I don’t love Naoki like I thought I did.”

Yuuji sighed, “Well, there’s your answer. This Naoki guy just isn’t the one for you.”

“So. . . Sukuna came over—I didn’t invite him, by the way—and he was . . . with Eileen.”

“That one blondie?”

You nodded, looking at your lap.

“What a bitch,” Yuuji shook his head.

“We decided to have a double-date? I don’t know. A movie was put on, and I went to go make popcorn. Sukuna came with; one thing led to another, and we kissed. . . I loved it. But, I felt guilty, because. . . I was in a relationship with another guy. Fuck, of course I felt guilty! I was cheating for God’s sake!” You groaned, holding your head in your hands.

Yuuji hummed, “That’s kind of a dick move on your part, not gonna lie.”

Your head snapped to Yuuji’s. “I know! That’s the whole point. I know, and I still did it. And, if time was rewound, I probably would have done the same thing. God. And you know the worst part? We broke up right after. I told Sukuna about how we shouldn’t have been . . . y’know, kissing, and he just. . . We broke up. The arrangement’s off.

“I lost a fake boyfriend, and I lost a real friend. All in the same day.”

“That’s. . . I don’t even know what to say to you. So, as for Naoki?”

“I broke up with him yesterday. I got deja vu being with Naoki. I felt like he wasn’t the first boyfriend I had that liked macaroni and cheese. It was as if I was reliving something I had already gone through. It just didn’t sit right with me.”

“And you did something about that?”

You paused. “Well . . . yeah. I broke up with him.”

“Sheesh, that’s the shortest lasting relationship you’ve ever had. And probably the shortest one in history, too.”

“Yuuji,” you deadpanned, “be serious.”

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in defense. “You couldn’t, like, explain everything to him or something? You guys could just get back together. For real, this time.”

“Not exactly. . . I mean, just look at me, I’m currently a fucking mess. I’m more confused than I’ve ever been. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Sukuna how I really felt, because . . . I just don’t think . . . I would be good for him.”

“Are you telling me? Or are you trying to tell yourself that?”

“. . .” You didn’t know.

Yuuji said your name with full confidence, “I know my brother. I’ve known him my whole life. And I know, that, you were the best and the worst thing to happen to him. (That’s a compliment.) There will never ever be another girl like you. Not in this lifetime. Not in this universe. Not ever. So be rational, goddamnit. Sukuna won’t settle for less. And he’s as stubborn as a mule. What you did was wrong, but you can always change the ending of a story if you really put your mind to it.

“Call him. Text him. But whatever you do, do the apologizing and explaining in person. I will personally help you and abduct him, if that’s what it will take.

“I really like you and my brother together; I’m selfish, I know. But everyone is a little self-seeking every once in a while, and I’m sure Sukuna would at least hear you out. So don’t sweat it, kid.” Yuuji patted you on the shoulder encouragingly, before sitting up and cracking his back after sitting for what seemed like forever.

You ended up passing up Yuuji on his ingenious idea of kidnapping Sukuna. If you were going to fix things, you were going to do it unaided. There have been too many people involved by now; you just wanted it to be Sukuna and you and the stars in the night sky. Uninterrupted by any phone calls, and any other thoughts that snaked their way into your brain.

“What . . . is this?” Sukuna raised a brow, inspecting the plate of food in your hands.

“You cooked for me . . . a lot, back then. I just . . . wanted to repay the favor?” You tried.

“So why is the ketchup on the omurice spelling out the word ‘sorry’? I’m not a mind reader, y’know. Explain,” Sukuna crossed his arms.

“It’s an apology. For you. I’m apologizing to you, Sukuna, for being so utterly stupid these two weeks. Please, let me explain. So I can sound like less of a dick.”

“Be my guest.”

Despite Yuuji’s assurance, you still feared Sukuna would hang up your call or leave your texts on read. So, you did the next best thing. You had shown up to Sukuna’s door completely unannounced. With a plate of a traditional Japanese dish—omurice—in your grasps, which you knew Sukuna had a soft spot for. People usually do a design with the ketchup, and you . . . decided to write the word sorry.

You followed Sukuna inside, and the both of you walked onto the balcony, where you could have some peace and quiet to explain yourself with no interruptions. There was the occasional flutter of the wind, and the sounds of birds having fun in the sky, but that was it. And that was enough.

Clearing your throat, you began—with the plate of food still in your hands. “I’ve been really stupid. And ignorant. And. . . I’m sorry.

“I don’t know why, but, I’ve always pushed away the idea that I loved you. And, that was dumb. Because I really loved you. Love, I mean. I know that’s kind of frank, and maybe even a little cheesy to hear and say, but, I don’t regret saying it. To you, at least.

“We got into this relationship for my benefit. And I never batted an eye to how you felt. That was egotistical of me. A dick move. And I’ve realized that.

“I’ve been stupid since the beginning of this. I mean, what type of person comes up with the idea that they’re cursed to never date someone interested in macaroni and cheese?” you joked.

Sukuna sighed. “You know, I agreed to your ‘curse removal’ thing because I never experienced true romantic love. But, in the end, you only gave me my first experience of true romantic heartbreak.”

“Uhm, yeah, I’m—I’m really, really sorry, Sukuna. Feelings always confuse me, and—and I didn’t say yes to being Naoki’s girlfriend because I loved him. It’s you who I feel that way towards. . .” you cringed at yourself. “I dragged you into this mess; and I fucked up. I just want you to know, that, me agreeing to be Naoki’s girlfriend was only because I didn’t know how to say otherwise. I felt . . . obligated? to say ‘yes’ and so I did. But, love isn’t really my strong suit. And, I know it sounds cheesy to say this, but, taking everything into account, this kind of reminds me of what Plato wrote about soulmates.

“That, humans used to originally have four arms, four legs, and two faces. Until, as a punishment for our pride, Zeus split humans in half. And now, we’re left destined to walk the earth searching for our other half.”

You sighed, exhausted with guilt.

“Yeah, I messed up, really bad, and you may hate me forever now—I wouldn’t blame you—but, I think I’ll always be drawn back to you. And,” you paused, looking up at the moon above, “I can’t say I’m complaining. As long as it’s you I’m destined to.”

Sukuna remained silent throughout the whole time you explained yourself. He felt . . . conflicted, to say the least. He knew he shouldn’t forgive you, but his heart ached, and longed. Sukuna had spent the days apart from you reflecting and going over everything that happened. And, in conclusion, he still loved you. Honestly, if you stabbed him and removed the blade before doing the same thing, Sukuna would probably still love you.

His stomach churned, and his eyebrows furrowed, as his turmoil consumed most of him.

“This might be a bad time to say this, but,” Sukuna turned to you, whispering, “I only liked macaroni and cheese because I ate it with you. You made the meal enjoyable, because we ate it together. As a couple, as friends, whatever. And, in full honesty. . . I fucking hate macaroni and cheese.”

Sukuna expected you to respond in shock, maybe even curse him out a bit, but you didn’t. At least, you didn’t let any emotion show on your face. Instead, you merely continued staring at the stars and the moon in the inky, dark night sky. Silent, eyes unblinking, and body unmoving.

The curse was never about macaroni and cheese. It was about true love. Those relationships with other people who liked macaroni and cheese weren’t successful because they were all with the wrong person. You weren’t cursed. You were in love, without knowing it.

“Look up, Sukuna,” you whispered, entirely focused on the stars. “Don’t you think. . .”

Your voice trailed off, but Sukuna finished your sentence for you.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

“. . .Yes. Yes, it is.”

Love truly was the most twisted curse of all.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒

A/N: ngl, i feel like i kinda rushed this ending, but im glad its done so whatever. here are some details you might've missed <3

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna angst

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lukolabrainrot · 1 month ago

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Hi there. So I've been firm in my belief that Luke & Nicola are gonna announce their relationship by telling us that they are already MARRIED. I've been conversing with a friend on here and we both agree there's been clues/crumbs that just might support the theory. Some might think it's too soon, BUT I just think their relationship was never a normal dating/courtship. Them being TOGETHER is 4-5 years in the making. Anyway, sorry it's long, but here's our thoughts on possible clues that these two may have tied the knot:

Many of them come from secondary sources, but I found these nuggets too hard to ignore. So here it goes:

8/22 N shares Polin photo. My interpretation of this photo is that this is the pivotal scene where Colin reads her letters and starts to forgive her. Penelope professes her love for him later that day. I think this particular photo was to signal they had worked out their differences and were together. I most definitely could be wrong, but I took it as a positive sign.

(I think 8/22/since deleted) JVN shares TT song and dance to Oh Happy Day. Well that's suspicious...

8/28 N and JVN like Evan Ross Katz Insta post about Catherine O'Hara meeting her husband on set and being married for 32 years. Hmmm?

8/28 Bridgerton Netflix drops the cute Lukola-coded media video on Insta.

8/29-8/30 I saw maybe 3-4 random comments on a few Insta and TT posts mentioning Cabo. In fact, there was a comment on L's Spain post up until recently that said "do Cabo next." So weird and probably not true, but I couldn't stop thinking about Cabo.

8/30 JVN posts the song "They Went for the Gun" from the musical Chicago to TT. I kept thinking what an odd song choice when talking about your remote work team. If you're a musical fan, you know that this is the routine where Richard Gere performs the puppet dance number with Renee Zellweger. The song is about convincing the media to buy in to your narrative by turning them into your puppets. I thought this could be about the JD photo gate distraction or maybe L/N were getting married and they wanted us to think otherwise? Or, this could mean absolutely nothing, lol.

8/31 This is the morning we all saw the JD in the ocean/pool story. OMG everyone panic - he's in Malta with N! I wonder if JD was excited to be on vacation and accidentally posted the pic to Insta and that set off the whole day of possible distractions? Right after, JVN posts a we're home and here's a garden update story. (I almost always wonder if his garden updates are jokingly about L/N status.) Maybe it was previously recorded, and he used it to possibly provide cover for JD's slip-up?

I know my theory is off the rails, but I kind of like the possibility of it. Maybe L/N went to Cabo for a long weekend wedding around 8/30-9/1 with just a few close friends and family? You know JD and JVN would be there. I'm not one of those photo date, location and time truthers. It seems like that is never accurate. The previously mentioned JD photo looked like a pool to me, and it reminded me of this deep blue-colored one that is at the One & Only Palmilla in Cabo. This resort has been featured on many episodes of Real Housewives and N loves that show. I also thought the Insta story from N's work colleague in Malta would be really thoughtless and unprofessional if she was actually there at that exact time. I hope it was an intentional misdirect.

8-31 Days before Chupi has been teasing their new Future Awaits Diamond Arrow eternity band. They have posts pairing it with the Claddagh ring. They release it early on this date. It looks very similar to the one N is wearing in her Polin post from 6/11/21. Maybe it's her new wedding band and she's already married? Squee!

Anyway, this is crazy delusional but it was fun to think they might have been breadcrumbs. Maybe L/N got married quietly in Galway(because she'd definitely want her mother there and her Irish roots/traditons are important to her, and now L) Spain when no one was suspecting it. Regardless, I hope Netflix paid for the wedding if there was one. Thanks so much for letting me share. I hope we find out soon! The rings are still the biggest clues of all. 🥰💍👀

This is all speculation... but interesting theories...

I don't think they are already married, but what does everyone else think?

The rings definitely mean SOMETHING about L/N 👀

#lukola theories #just some thoughts #purely speculation #claddagh ring #WHAT ARE THESE TWO CRAZY KIDS UP TO 👀

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the-troll-book-of-mormon · 2 months ago

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@davekatweek day 1: plush!

in which dave does not want anything remotely puppet-like to watch the proceedings

(+ my rushed attempt at dialogue below)

DAVE: hey karkat sorry to totally crush your wildest selfcest dreams here but do you think maybe we could put that cool guy away before we go any further here

KARKAT: WHAT?

DAVE: your squishy dude over there with the sideways mohawk

DAVE: lil kat

KARKAT: ARE YOU REFERRING TO MY CUSHION EFFIGY?

DAVE: ok theres absolutely no way thats actually the troll word for plushies but ill let it slide without completely derailing the conversation this time

DAVE: yes that guy

DAVE: could we maybe do this without him watching

DAVE: idk something about the way hes been staring at me with those big yellow depression eyes is just killin my vibe

KARKAT: WOW DAVE, REALLY GLAD THAT AFTER ALL THIS TIME YOU FINALLY FOUND IT WITHIN THE ECHOING CAVERNS OF YOUR HOLLOW PUMP BISCUIT TO TELL ME THAT MY "DEPRESSION EYES" ALLEGEDLY "KILL YOUR VIBE".

KARKAT: ANY OTHER COMPLAINTS YOU WANT TO GET OFF YOUR NUB WHILE YOU'RE ALREADY SCUTTLING YOUR EFFRONTERY GASH?

DAVE: dude what

DAVE: thats totally different

DAVE: i love your depression eyes you know i love your depression eyes

KARKAT: I DON'T KNOW, DAVE, IS THIS A THING THAT I KNOW?

KARKAT: YOU DON'T THINK THERE COULD BE ANYTHING CONFUSING ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU ARE CLAIMING TO "LOVE" AN ANATOMICAL FEATURE OF MINE THAT YOU SIMULTANEOUSLY FIND SO DISGUSTING THAT YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY BRING YOURSELF TO ENGAGE IN CONCUPISCENT ACTIVITIES IN ITS PRESENCE?

KARKAT: ONCE AGAIN I AM COMPLETELY MYSTIFIED BY THE BOUNDLESS GENIUS OF YOUR ATROPHYING SPONGE. HOW COULD I EVER HOPE TO KEEP UP?

DAVE: holy shit dude i cannot believe this is actually something youre stuck on

DAVE: this is a real unfortunate time to be getting into this but maybe its because your depression eyes are attached to the real life body of my sexy as fuck boyfriend and i can look at them and not get the weird fucking heebie jeebies about being watched or secretly filmed

KARKAT: OH.

DAVE: i mean look hes cute and all and on the one hand its genuinely hilarious that in a way were fulfilling plush karkats voyeuristic fantasies that he inherited from you

KARKAT: HEY!

DAVE: but on the other its kinda jarring that every time i glance up and see his weird little fabric face im getting flashbanged by my kid selfs fucked up programming and for a split second its like im seeing something completely different

DAVE: so yeah nothing wrong with his depression eyes specifically its just that theyre eyes and theyre not real and somehow that makes it way more real

DAVE: like maybe someone somehow snuck a webcam in there just now when i wasnt looking

DAVE: which doesnt actually make sense because first of all why

DAVE: and second of all im always keeping my eye out for that sort of thing anyway so i would definitely notice before we got this far

DAVE: but all this dumb shit just makes it kinda hard to focus on the actual depression bedroom eyes right in front of my face

DAVE: not to mention the rest of this effigy im tryin to get my ganderbulbs and prongs all over

KARKAT: OKAY I GET IT, STOP TRYING TO DISTRACT ME FROM THE FEELINGS JAM BY APPROPRIATING TROLL VERNACULAR.

KARKAT: I'LL PUT HIM IN THE OTHER ROOM.

...

i had more of the scene i could write, but it was getting long and im already late for day 1! maybe one day i'll actually write out a scene and post it on ao3

#homestuck #davekatweek #davekatweek2024 #nephi art #davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #karkat plush #homestuck fanart

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shini--chan · 7 months ago

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Woah a hetalia blog in 2020 and a Yan one at that??? The world has BLESSED US! Could I please request Germany (and Russia If that's okay. Seprate not together) stalking and kidnapping their love interest?

Yandere Hetalia - Germany, Russia (Cat in the bag)

Germany

Ludwig would be so befuddled by his own feelings at first, that it would take some time for him to get back on track. In the meantime, he'd do everything he can to drown out the emotions that are causing him so much agony. It could be through work, household chores, dozens of personal projects (if you want to prevent a terrible future for yourself, it would be in your best interest to help him run away from his feelings.) Though, in the end, that won't be enough, and he'll eventually find himself scrolling through all your social media profiles.

The more he ignored it, the stronger the urge became. It left him jittery, unable to focus. Ludwig already was reading the same paragraph for the third time, since the meaning behind the words never stuck. He wasn't even by the last sentence when the words began to blur due to overpowering thoughts of you. You, who he didn't want to think about due to the urges and desires the mere notion of you invoked.

Slamming the laptop closed, damned be the deadline, he then snatched up his phone. Instagram was opened in a second and within a few clicks, he had your profile. He found himself hypnotised by the photos of you on display. There was one of the older ones that was a favourite of his, one where the light of a setting sun caught your features just right.

Ludwig opened it, and leaned onto the table until he was half lying on it, the phone upright in front of his face. Far too close as well and he would have chided any other person doing it. Almost reverently, he traced the outlines of your face, exactly like he did with icons of the Virgin Mary in another life, when he had still been Holy Rome.

He wouldn't be sure on how to approach you, so he would take the stereotypical dating ideas like going to the cinema together, or to an amusement park. Would be formal to the point it would be painful, but would loosen up as the evening progresses.

It would only make him more obsessed with you and he would start following you around, and interrogating people about you. Not stalking, this is researching, is what he would tell himself. With you being so precious to him, he just needs to make sure that he caters to your needs and doesn't hurt you by accident. That would be all. His own curiosity and obsession with you would play absolutely no role in this, absolutely not sir.

Most of the stalking would take place via social media, with him creating various sock-puppet accounts. Ludwig would go to great lengths to make sure you don't connect all of them to him - like showing different writing styles and personalities, and sometimes even feigning not knowing certain languages. The purpose of these accounts would be to watch you, and also engage with you on different topics and from differing standpoints in some cases. The anonymity the internet grants would be a boon here.

Aside from that, he would also track you a lot. Germany would use this to "coincidently" run into when you are out and about and then invite himself to whatever you are doing. You'll find him joining the same clubs that you are a member of, if he isn't in them already. Often, he would come across as overbearing.

The kidnapping would spout from the selfish desire to have you all to himself. He would be aghast by his own thought processes, and suppress it. Suppress it until it would come bubbling back to the surface stronger than before. He would find a whole host of justifications for his criminal actions - that he is allowed to be selfish, that the individualistic culture of Western society promotes his actions.

Still, he would be filled with guilt and so apologetic for breaking in and knocking you unconscious. Law enforcement would have a very hard time finding you and Ludwig wouldn't really be inclined to release you.

Russia

In Ivan's case, it would start very tame. The stalking would begin during the process of getting to know you and stem from suspicions of you not being forthcoming. During the first meetings you'd have, he'd inquire about your dislikes and likes, what you like to do in your free time, your opinions on certain matters. If you let him, he'll take you on long walks and converse with you about literature and philosophy until the sun sets and rises again. Though, there would alway be the nagging doubt about the truthfulness of your statements, something that would only be amplified should you show fear in any form.

Thus, he would stalk you to find out how honest you are with him. Part of this wouldn't even be really following you around or watching you undress. In part, it would consist of going through your collection of books, investigating your taste in art and music, reading any journals you keep and checking what clubs you attend. To get an even better grasp on your personality, he would also look into who you are befriended with, as well as your relations with family members, and do background checks on all of them.

The apartment you lived in could tolerate a good cleaning, in Ivan's humble opinion. It wasn't like you lived in a pig sty, leaving dirty clothes and rotten food lying around. Rather, it was the sort of "dirty" of a person that didn't have the time to wipe down the surfaces.

Ivan couldn't help but grimace as he eyed the book shelf. There was a layer of dust on the free spaces and even on top of a few books, thus preventing him from actually taking out the one or the other and skim reading through a few pages. Leaving traces wouldn't do - if you couldn't relax in your own living space, then you'd start hiding behaviours. He'd just have to learn more about the books at home and through the internet.

Home. It was a cosy little home that you had established for yourself here, but it was nothing compared to what he would give you once your relationship was more "official". First, he had to ascertain how honest you were being with him. So far, so good, you had been truthful with him - but it was possible to speak nothing but the truth and still be dishonest and devious.

Turning on his heel, he headed to your small bedroom. A book was on your nightstand, just waiting for him to pick it up and flip through. Which is what he did.

Finally, he would also watch you. Some people talk or mutter to themselves when they are alone, and he would like to hear what you say when you think that nobody is watching. Also, humans do such fascinating things when they are sure that they are alone - what will you do? What bad habits will he have to exorcise out of you? Do you eat healthy, or does he have to help you along? Any addictions that he can use against you?

Should he determine that you aren't honest with him, then he'll be furious. Ivan would then make it his mission to teach you the value of honesty, do matter how damaging his lessons may be. Best if you learn quickly, or he'll make you as paranoid and distrusting as himself.

As for kidnapping - it would only happen if you are in danger. The thing is, Ivan would regard you as fragile. Additionally, he would be very aware that his view on danger is very skewed, so he'd seek to compensate for it. In reality, he would be overcompensating. This would all be for your own safety and nothing you say would be able to convince him otherwise.

He would even be gentle during the whole process, preferably luring you away. Maybe you go on holiday with him and never return to your home. Maybe you stay a night at his place and wake up to find you can't leave. Should you be resistant and avoid him, he'll of course have to resort to other means - sleeping pills in your food or drink, or snatching you off the street in the middle of the night.

You were so peaceful when you were asleep. Knock out drops being the cause of your slumber didn't change that - you even had a small smile as he lifted you up in your chair. As luck would have it, you had tipped forward when the substance had kicked in, and face-planted in your take away.

Your face was full of sauce and there were even bits of food in your hair, but Ivan was still of the opinion that you looked downright angelic. Of course, it was love and passion speaking on his side that tended to give people a different outlook.

Carefully, he gathered you in his arms and lifted you up. There was a small bunch of people gathered outside of your apartment, curious as to what all the commotion was about. As was ever the case when an ambulance arrived to pick somebody up. In total, it was the perfect alibi, because who would suspect a paramedic of being involved in a kidnapping?

#yandere hetalia #yandere russia #yandere germany #yandere #x reader

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teecupangel · 7 months ago

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I had an idea for an Altaïr that accepted Al Mualim’s teachings and became his true successor after he dies, basically keeping Masyaf the same after his death with the apple. What would happen if a reincarnated Desmond just appeared in Masyaf one day? I was thinking of Altdes but like super Yandere Altaïr

You wanna make it all the more morally questionable?

Altaïr finished what Al Mualim failed to do.

He managed to use the Apple to control everyone in Masyaf.

When Desmond is transported into the past, Altaïr had already gotten to Saladin and is slowly getting the men King Richard trusts the most under his command.

Desmond was reborn as a nobody in this land… is what he would like to say.

Unfortunately…

Or maybe fortunately?

He was reborn as Jalāl al-Dīn Ḥasan III, the only son of imam of Alamut.

Meaning he’s 22 years old younger than Altaïr…

He was kept in the harem as a child and it was hard to run away from an entire castle filled with Assassins who knew their little prince liked to run away.

He had only met Altaïr once when he was growing up, being able to take peek even after his father ordered him to stay in his room while the mentor of Masyaf was visiting.

He had been sixteen years old.

And Altaïr looked just as handsome as he remembered.

Their eyes met and there was something in his eyes that made Desmond feel… something.

Something both enticing and… dangerous.

One of the Assassins saw him and escorted him back to his room before his father found out.

The following day, his father asked for him and he had been worried that he learned of Desmond sneaking in last night.

Instead, he ordered Desmond to show Altaïr around Alamut which he agreed easily to.

Altaïr’s stay in Alamut was short and Desmond savored every moment of it. He was a bit different from Desmond’s image of him.

More open in his curiosity of Alamut and…

Of Desmond himself.

He knew that Altaïr already had two sons by now.

But Altaïr laughed when Desmond asked about his wife.

He didn’t have a wife.

Desmond thought he was joking.

So Altaïr explained…

His sons’ mother was not married to him. She did him a ‘favor’. In exchange, he ‘assisted’ her in taking over the Templar Order. It’’s because of their ‘trade’ that Altaïr was able to secure an alliance with the newly reformed Templar Order.

Something was wrong.

Desmond has no idea why the timeline was this skewered. He sure as hell knew it wasn’t him.

It couldn’t be him.

He had been too young when Altaïr became a mentor to do anything even when he wanted to.

So he had to find out what happened to change the ‘past’ this much.

And the fact that he knew that there was something between them, something simmering under the surface with each graze of the back of their hands, of each brief touch on the arm, the shoulder, and back…

There was something between them that Desmond knew he was powerless to stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

So he asked his father if he could stay in Masyaf for a while, be some kind liaison or something.

He had been surprised when his father said yes.

He should have questioned it.

Instead…

He was just glad that he could stay with Altaïr longer.

[Why are you bringing that child?]

“Jealous?”

[You do not need that child.]

“He’s not a child, is he? He doesn’t feel like one.”

[He knows nothing.]

“No one does. Only we know how this past must become to pave way to a better future. Is he not part of your Calculations?”

[He is inconsequential.]

“Then it doesn’t matter if I have him then if that’s true.”

[…]

“He sounds a lot like you. But he’s more… not innocent. No. That’s not the right word… ‘mortal’.”

[Altaïr, do not forget your pact with me.]

“I prefer to call it our vows but what do I know? I am but the first of your many, aren’t I? But he… he’s mine and mine alone.”

[Do not let him distract you.]

“When have I ever failed you? I know what he is. I can see it in his glow. He’s like you… he is you, isn’t he?”

[…]

“Is he my reward for being your loyal puppet king, my dear Reader? Or is he an anomaly I can do as I please?”

[… do as you wish but do not forget who you belong to, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.]

“I belong to you but you do not belong to me. But he… Desmond. He will be mine.”

Altaïr stared at the Apple on his table.

The Apple glowed dimly.

[Fine. Do as you wish.]

“I will.” Altaïr tapped the Apple, letting it roll an inch away from him, “Relax, my dear Reader. Aren’t you curious?”

“Who decided to place your human self here in our fixed past?”

#i don’t know if you wanted the mystery nonny #but you’re getting the mystery XD #no usual tags because #altdes #oh yeah #this is a complicated yandere situation between the three

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maehemthemisfit · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄

ask — Can I ask you that the reader 💋 them while they are 😥 and 💙 in order to 😇 them, (I really hope this makes sense) Characters: Scaramouche & Xiao (This is my first time requesting something, hopefully I did it right ☠️) - requested by @oddshroom

a/n — this took me so unbelievably long to write but I'm working on my emoji asks now! okay so apparently I have no self control when it comes to writing scara so this ended up being 3k instead of 500≤1k so I'm making this separate from the xiao's. also dw love, you did it absolutely right so it was clear and concise <3

pairing — [ scaramouche x gn!reader + 💋 kissing them while they're 😥 having a nightmare and 💙 playing with their hair in order to 😇 comfort them]

edited by: my homegirl @xiao6ao

masterlist / xiao post / emoji prompt list

Since when was the melody of screams this unpleasant? Or perhaps, maybe it was never a sweet tune to begin with.

The crackling of fire howled and filled his ears, yet he watched silently as the flames ate away at the wooden structure, devouring the joyous memories he created there. Ashes sprinkled the blazing air, scurrying around like fire flies and filling his lungs.

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

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ronwestbreeze · 2 years ago

Text

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER TWO

pairing: jake sully x reader

summary: in which you are forced to be in the same vicinity as jake sully for months

warnings: none!

word count: 3.9k

author's note: yay another chapter!! :))

AO3 | prev | next

It had been a few weeks since the last time you had stepped foot in Hell’s Gate and ever since your conversation with Quaritch. Still, you had sent a few vague video messages for Grace and the newbies about the culture of Na’vi. The videos were mostly for Jake since Norm seemed well educated on the culture and language. It was easy for you to do and get out of the way one day a week. This was you being the tutor that Quaritch tried requesting. And technically you weren’t disobeying orders. But you did find yourself a loophole to avoid the Gate and Jake Sully all together.

That was until now.

“No!”

“Tinkers…” Grace sighed.

“Hell no, Augustine!”

You never thought you would find yourself yelling at Grace in all the time you’ve met her. It almost felt wrong. There was so much respect between you two, there was just never any way that you thought you’d be arguing with her this hotly, this irritated. Sure, there had been clashes in the past but those were tame and intellectual.

Now it was almost like a child snapping at their mother for the first time. You didn’t want to but your frustration and irritation had built up over time until it finally made you explode.

“He’s found and met the Omatikaya people, Tinkers. This could be our chance to rebuild a relationship with them if we do this right.” Grace's voice was cracking through the radio that you held in your hands. “And to do that we need a good set up, a good foundation away from the Gate. We have to have some distance, especially from Parker and Quaritch.”

That had made you stop. Your hands, which had been previously tinkering with your project, stopped moving as you focused your attention on the radio. “Why?” The question had come hastily, making you cringe at yourself. “I mean, what does this have to do with Quaritch?”

Grace responded in a lowered voice through the radio, “For some odd reason, I feel like you already know the answer to that, Tinkers. Which also explains your sudden attitude toward Jake. Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed, kid.” You rolled your eyes, knowing she was talking about your obvious steps to make sure you didn’t interact with Quaritch’s new puppet. And your lack of a response only confirmed Grace’s guess.

Really, there was no point in denying it. Grace knew you. And she knew Quaritch just as well as you did. She knew the tense relationship between you two, it was hard not to over the years of you being on Pandora. Which was one of the reasons why Grace had taken you under her wing, which was why you had always followed her around like a lost puppy in your first few years in Pandora. There was no hiding anything from Grace Augustine, especially when she decided to look after you when no one else would.

“And you think bringing everything up here, crowding my space…” Despite yourself, you glanced down at your project which was nearly finished. “How is this a good idea again—”

“We’re coming, Tinkers.” Grace said sternly. “You can stay cooped up in your lab all you want but we’re still coming, and kid, sorry but you’re going to have to deal with Sully’s presence whether you like it or not.”

She wasn’t wrong. Yes, your lab was connected to the mobile link station Site 26 which Grace and the others were free to use if they wanted. But this lab was your solitude, your own world of secrets.

You didn’t want Quaritch’s little spy anywhere near it.

“Meet you up there, kid.” Grace said before the radio went silent.

For a moment, you stared at Project Pandora. Then you got up and started cleaning up the desk you had been working at for the past few hours. Carefully, you placed the project in the cabinets beneath the desk and closed it, locking it with a padlock.

Perhaps you were being a bit paranoid but you couldn’t risk it. Hell, you couldn’t even risk Grace seeing it either. She’d try to talk you out of it if anything.

Hours had passed until the helicopter had arrived with Grace and the others. Despite your previous annoyance toward the new situation, you went out to greet them as they got off the helicopter.

“Hope you took care of the place since I left.” Grace commented as you fell into step side by side with her. “I’m not going to see a whole hoard of shit everywhere, will I, Tinkers?”

“I know how to clean my own shit.” You grumbled when stepping into the station. “If anything you’re more messy with me. Most of you shit is in there anyway.”

Grace rolled her eyes, setting her things down at an unoccupied desk. Norm trailed in, looking around with wide excited eyes. “So you’re telling me you’ve been staying up here in the Hallelujah Mountains for months now? How are you not amazed by this every day?”

You shrugged as the link beds were rolled in, “I guess you get used to the view every day.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Still to this day you found yourself always amazed at where you were and how you often remembered that Earth was nothing compared to this. And that you didn’t miss the former planet one bit.

Norm shook his head in disbelief, “Have you ever explored more of this place?”

“On my own? No.” You found yourself chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Pandora may be beautiful but it's also dangerous, especially for those unskilled to handle it.”

As soon as you said that, Jake wheeled in. He took in his surroundings the same as Norm until your gazes connected. There was an unreadable expression on his face when he nodded toward you in acknowledgment, “Doc.”

“They haven’t killed you yet, I see.” You hummed, raising a single brow. “Can’t really tell if I’m impressed or disappointed.”

He gave a sarcastic smile, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doc. Have any more half assed advice for me?”

“Yeah, right up your—”

“Alright, kids.” Grace interrupted, glaring at the two of you. “If we’re all gonna be stuck here together for the next few months, we’re gonna have to suck it up and get along or else this whole thing is for nothing.”

You roll your eyes, before leaving to go back to your lab. That was your only place where it would be your solitude after. Seconds later your lab door opened and in came Grace who already wore a maternal stern look on her face upon looking at you slouched in your desk chair.

“Why are we even still working with him?” You hiss in Na’vi. “It’s like you said on the radio, you and I both know he’s working with Quaritch. We can’t trust him!”

“He will start learning their ways and they will accept him if we play this right, Tinkers. Think about it. Sully could be our chance to rebuild our relationship with them, to get them to trust us again.” Grace glanced over her shoulder at the now closed door before continuing. “And if it works maybe things will start to fall in place when it comes to Quaritch.”

You stood, shaking your head. “You have too much faith in him, Augustine. Whatever relationship you think we could salvage with them, it’s gone. They will never trust us again after what happened. And now letting him enter their clan as an outsider, lying to them, that is what you think is going to help?!”

Exhaustion fell onto her face as she placed her hands on her waist, switching to English. “You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Tinkers. I need you to work with me here, I need you on my side.”

This was too reckless. All of it. And no matter what you did to stay out of it, somehow you were always dragged back into it. You were always hurt again. You didn’t want to be hurt. You didn’t want what happened last time to happen again. Not to the Na’vi. Hell, not to Grace. You can’t stand seeing her heart broken after what had happened again.

“He is not on our side.” You whispered, pointing to the door.

Grace did not respond and the conversation soon ended when Norm called for her. Before leaving your lab she gave you one final stern look, “Play nice. This place is about to be stuffy, kid.”

The first couple of weeks, you mostly kept to yourself in your lab, working on your project, video logging for yourself, or just other smaller projects. Just to keep yourself distracted and away from the main station. When you did come out of your lab, you’d mostly speak to Grace and Norm and kept your interactions with Jake to a minimum. Which most of the time included snarky remarks and or cursing at each other.

“She keeps calling me, skxawng.” Jake muttered one day while eating his breakfast before he’d hop into the link unit as usual. During his stay here, you had learned that Jake had met Neytiri, the Omatikaya clan leader’s daughter. You recognized the name mostly because you had met her in the past, her and her mother Mo’at, the Tsahik of the clan. It had been a while since you had seen either of them. “What does it even mean?”

“Moron.” You muttered, eating some of your yogurt.

“Yeah, right back at you, little shit.” Jake retorted.

Norm shook his head, hiding an amused snort behind his bowl of breakfast. You turned to Jake and raised your brows, “Skxawng, means moron, asshat. Though it’s pretty fitting for you, don’t you think?”

“Bite me.”

“Very mature.”

“Both of you sound like children!” Grace snapped from her spot at the desk in the corner. “For god’s sake, you’re adults! Act like it!”

“Tell that to her.” Jake commented.

You flipped him off.

But as time went by, you can admit that Jake was making bits of progress when it came to integrating into the Omatikaya. Some days, when you wanted a break from spending so much time in the lab, you’d be sitting on one of the cots watching Norm struggling to teach Jake the language and get easily frustrated at his slow learning.

“Oel ngati kameie.” Norm repeated for what sounded like the hundredth time that evening. “I see you. You almost had it on the ninetieth try.”

“Fuck off.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Oel ngati—”

“No, no, no!” Norm grumbled while you hid a smile behind the book you were reading.

“I’m saying exactly what you’re saying right now!”

“No you’re not—you know what?” Norm breathed out a sigh before pushing away from the table he was at, “Let’s take a really, really long break, yeah?” You watched as Norm exhaustedly rubbed his face and left the room, mumbling to himself in frustration.

Jake huffed and went quiet for a while. Right now it was just the two of you sitting in the room. You made no move to say or do anything, mostly just kept to yourself like you had been for the past week. While reading, you heard him start to mumble the same phrase over and over again, though his pronunciation was wrong each time.

And despite wanting to ignore him, your need to correct him eventually won.

“You really do have a thick skull, huh?” You commented. Jake turned his wheelchair away from you, pettily ignoring you. “You're sooo funny. Apologies for trying to help.”

“And since when have you ever tried to help me?” Jake snorted, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“Did you not watch the videos I sent you?”

“Fuck off.”

A small, amused smile tugged at your lip before you closed your book. “Quaritch did tell you to listen to me, make sure you survive and whatnot. Or are you not taking orders from him anymore?”

Jake didn't reply right away, instead he turned his chair so that he was facing you again, studying you with an unreadable expression. “You hate him.”

You scoffed, “Great job, Sherlock.”

Jake tilted his head, giving you a look, “He’s mentioned you a few times. Asks about you.”

Not really wanting to hear any of this, you got up and grabbed your book. “We’re definitely not having this conversation, especially not with you of all people.”

“Okay, then make something clear to me.” Jake called, rolling after you. “I don’t get it. He acts like the two of you are close and treats you like a family. And then there’s you, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with him.”

Now you were scowling and turned back to him, “Yes and it’s been a pretty great relationship so far. What’s your point, Puppet?”

He frowned at the nickname but continued, “It’s because of the school, isn’t it?”

That, you hadn’t expected. Really, you didn’t even know that he knew about that. Then again, Grace might’ve told him at some point. Still, the question threw you off. Enough that Jake could read the expression on your face, which confirmed his question without you having to say anything.

“I, uh, noticed the pictures with you and Grace’s avatars, with the kids.” Jake continued but a lot more carefully than before. “Grace told me about, um, Sylwanin and the other kids that died.” You winced terribly, barely able to hide it as you turned your gaze away from him. It had been awhile, no, a couple of years at least since it first happened.

You just never bothered talking about it again, never bothering to go back into your avatar form unless you absolutely needed to. Those deaths had weighed down on your shoulders forever.

Jake was still watching you as he spoke, “You blame him.”

“They were on his orders.” Was what you said, willing your voice to remain firm. Crossing your arms, you continued through gritted teeth, “If he ever thought of me as family he wouldn’t have allowed that to happen that day. Those were my friends he had gunned down.” You turn to look at Jake, frowning. “Could you forgive that?”

Surprisingly, his response was immediate. “No.”

Quietly, you watched him the same as he did you. And then you stopped, not wanting to read into anything more. Not wanting to discover anything more despite the growing doubt settling in as this conversation kept going.

“What else has he said?” You found yourself asking after a while, quietly. This now surprised Jake. “About me?”

Now it was his turn to look away from you for a moment before shrugging, “Says you guys used to be close, practically an uncle to you or something, I don’t remember.”

You nod, not protesting that. Despite everything, that was true. Your parents were both dead. Quaritch had known them both and you since you were young. He was a family friend. An uncle. The only person that cared for you that was left in this world.

And with everything that had happened between you two, that’s what broke your heart the most. No matter what, he was the last one left for you.

You walked toward the door to your lab but stopped before glancing over your shoulder toward Jake.

“It’s oel ngati kameie.” You pronounced slowly, doing the hand movement along with it. “You’ll get it at some point.”

“Wait!” Just as you opened the door, Jake had wheeled closer. “The way you say it, it’s different from how Norm did it.”

You shrugged, “Norm’s a bit too formal with his translations. Spend a little time with the Na’vi and listen to how they communicate with each other, that’s when you start to sound like them.”

Jake grinned a bit, “Why don’t you teach me? Call it a truce, you and I. Let’s make this work, yeah?”

“I don’t know.” You hummed stepping into your lab. “I still don’t like you very much.”

He raised a brow, a smirk on his lips, “You’re warming up to me though.”

“In your dreams, Puppet.”

“Video log, 100-something…I don’t know but I miss you guys.”

You say quietly to the camera. It was around night time in Pandora. The other should’ve been fast asleep by now or Jake was still in the link bed, parading around the forest with his avatar.

“It’s been a few months…since I’ve logged in, I think. I know I should be keeping up with them. And it’s been five years today since you guys left…Mom, I’ve improved and kept your work going. Hopefully I’ve done you justice…you know…I can’t exactly replace you. Your brilliance…everyone looks to me now that you’re gone…I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m not ready for it-I really don’t understand how these people think I could live up to you….”

There was a muffled sound outside of your lab. Someone was probably moving around. Whoever it was, you waited for a few seconds before you didn’t hear anymore thuds. You turned back to the camera.

“I think it was a mistake leaving me to Quaritch…and I know he’s one of your oldest friends Dad, but…this isn’t working anymore. Pandora has really shown me the truth. Something I was too naïve to notice before…but now that I do know the truth, I’m not sure….I’m not sure if I was ready for it…”

Knowing that these videos were being watched by the higher ups, you decided to cut the camera off before the tears came. The last thing you wanted was for them to see your vulnerability. To see how much their mission practically broke you. They wouldn’t have cared anyway. But it was embarrassing to imagine either way.

All you knew was that you never wanted them to ever see you cry. You would not grant them this.

The last thing they would see of you was not tears. No.

It would be a grin made of gasoline. And the fire you started in your wake.

Norm and Jake were arguing. You didn’t know what about but if you had to guess, it was probably Norm getting frustrated with Jake while he was supposed to be helping him with the language. And you were betting Jake was responding back like the smartass he was.

It wasn’t long before Grace jumped in to scold them like a parent. Now it would’ve been entertaining to listen to the three of them go at it, but they’re dumb fight was distracting you from your work, which was in itself a sin.

When the fighting never ceased, you gave up with the work you attempted to refocus on and stomped out of your lab. Outside of it, Jake and Norm were back at the small table in the corner going at it while Grace scowled and snapped at them from her spot across from them.

“—it’s like you’re trying to be dumb on purpose! How can you not get this?!” Norm snapped.

Jake scowled, “Kind of hard to listen to you when you’re talking out of your ass!”

“My god! Am I just surrounded by children these days? What the hell is wrong with you two?!” Grace glared at them.

You stood to the side and watched as they fought, both annoyed and intrigued.

Norm suddenly stood up, “You know, I don’t get it. I’ve studied and prepared myself for this for several years and he gets this chance in one go, why? What the hell has he done to even earn his place here?!”

“Spellman—” Grace sighed.

“So you're jealous?” Jake smirked, leaning back in his chair. “What, mad that I got the chief’s daughter and you got horseshit?”

You could tell Jake was just trying to get a rise out of Norm and the latter took the bait easily, “I deserve to be out there. I fucking speak the language—”

“Quaritch chose him.” Grace said simply, growing tired of the fight. “There’s nothing we could do to change that. And complaining about it sure as hell isn’t going to solve anything.” She then looked at you with a frown and spoke in Na’vi, “Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to add anything to this conversation?”

You shrugged indifferently, “You seem to have a handle on things.”

“Would the two of you stop that!” Norm snapped exasperatedly. “I can understand you! You’re not being secretive by talking in another language I know!”

Grace frowned, “Nobody said anything about being secretive, Spellman. Take a deep breath, alright? Yes, you are good at the language, which is why I need you to help Jake out here.”

Norm glared at Jake. Jake glared back, raising his brows provocatively.

You rolled your eyes before smacking Norm’s arm, “Go. I’ll take over.”

Grace raised his brows while Jake stared at you curiously and another expression you couldn’t make out. “You sure, Tinkers?”

“If it’ll get the two of these idiots to stop arguing, yeah, I’m sure.” You say, replacing the seat Norm had been sitting in before.

Norm scoffed, “Whatever.” He disappeared in the back.

“Let’s see here.” You say, looking at the notes that Norm had scribbled down. “Eywa ngahu.”

“What, no hello?” Jake grinned at you.

“Eywa ngahu.” You repeated sternly.

Jake rolled his eyes, “Eywa ngahu.”

“Good, good.” You nodded before glancing down at the papers, “Jesus, what is this handwriting?”

Jake leaned forward to get a better look at it, a little too close for your liking. He pointed to one of the phases, “Oel ngati kameie. I see you, right?”

You nodded while Grace from her corner of the room narrowed her eyes at him, “Just a few minutes ago you were struggling with it when Norm was teaching you.”

Jake shrugged innocently, “I guess I learn fast.”

“Bullshit.” Grace scoffed. She glanced from you to Jake with a strange yet knowing look before shaking her head and going back to work. Muttering under her breath, “Idiots…”

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes at him. Jake just continued to stare at you innocently. You glanced back down at the papers noticing the red marks next to some of the phrases.

“Those were the ones we were gonna come back to.” Jake pointed out when he saw the question practically forming on your face. “They were the ones I struggled with the most.”

“Mmm.” You said for a moment. “Let’s go down the list. Ngaru lu fpom srak.”

“Ngaru lu fpom srak.”

“Fyape syaw fko ngar?”

“Jake Sully.”

You blink and Grace makes a sound that was suspiciously close to a snort. “You understood what I said?”

Jake nodded, “Yeah, it was a lot clearer when you said it.”

Bullshit. You pushed the papers away and leaned back in your chair, “Jake, were you purposefully acting obtuse just to get rid of Norm? Because if you were, that has got to be the most idiotic shit I’ve ever witnessed.”

In the corner of your eye, you could see Grace sneaking a look toward the two of you, waiting for a response.

“It’s not idiotic if it worked.” Jake winked, leaning forward on the table.

You shook your head in disbelief. And despite yourself a smile grew on your lips, “You’re such an asshole, Puppet.”

“I know. But you’re still here.”

“Shut up.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @erenjaegerwifee @ssc7514 @cheari

#to you worlds away #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar way of water #avatar jake #jake sully #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #jake sully fic #atwow

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mas-o-kissed · 6 months ago

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(FROM THE IMPCO ARCHIVES, IT’S PART 1 OF AN EPISODE OF BRAINDRAIN.

CW: hypnotic intox, dubcon hypno, public humiliation, kidnapping)

It’s the middle of the night, and your television flickers. There’s a static haze, a soft droning. As the picture comes into focus, a jaunty, old fashioned tune plays over the title card:

BRAINDRAIN

with Imp

Camera slowly zooms in on a small, effeminate man, grinning at the camera. A lower third tells you that his name is Imp. The image is hazy, as if it’s an old broadcast, but you could swear he has horns and a devil’s tail. Are those fangs? What is this show?

“Good evening, Impsomniacs! It’s 3 o’clock, and you know what that means. It’s time for your favorite game show: BRAINDRAIN.”

The camera follows as Imp walks across the set.

“Now, I’ve been hosting this show for many years. It’s been so long, we don’t even remember that far back! The before times, the long long ago, it all fades into nothing, like a dark void at the center of my mind, and no matter how hard I try to remember, it’s like we’re filled with this emptiness. It’s frightening, but it’s exciting at the same time. Like, what even is hiding in that dark space? Is it better if we never find out? This guy knows what I’m talking about!”

Imp points lightheartedly at an audience member, who appears to be asleep. AUDIENCE LAUGHS.

“HA! Haha. Yes.” (Stage whisper, into his headset) “Get that guy out of here. He’s too far gone to laugh at any of my jokes.”

The audience member is swiftly carted away.

“We have a very special player on our show tonight. You might recognize him from such places as snooping around Impco at 6am, or the holding room where we keep all of our prisoner— I mean contestants.”

Curtains move aside to reveal a man chained to a podium by his neck and hands. There is a gag in his mouth. He struggles against the binding. The messy scrawl on his name card says: “POSTMAN (ALLEGEDLY)”

“Usually I’m not up so early in the morning, but today I was woken up by a terrible horn-ache, and that’s when I found contestant number one poking around the facility. What do you have to say for yourself, contestant?”

Imp removes the gag from the man’s mouth.

“I was delivering a package, you lunatic!”

“Oh? Really? And what was in this package?”

“That tie! You’re wearing it right now!”

Imp looks down at the tie around his neck.

“HA! Hahaha! Oh darling, I sure wish I believed you. But you see, we’ve already downloaded dozens of fun triggers directly into your brain. It would be such a shame to waste them. Not only that, but our audience is just aching to see what’s going to happen to you. They’re ravenous. Like dogs. Isn’t that right, folks?”

APPLAUSE AND BARKING.

The man continues to struggle.

“Now, I think we all know the rules by now, but because I’m so nice, I’ll explain how the game is played.

I spin the wheel of post-hypnotic suggestions (we’re still coming up with a snappier name for it).

Whatever it lands on is the trigger I’ll use before I ask you a question.

Will you have to answer a complicated math problem after having your IQ reduced by 30 points? Will I make you into my puppet and then ask you to grab something just out of reach? Will it be a mysterious third thing?

You don’t know! And neither do I! That’s what makes the game so fun. Are you ready to play, Luke?”

“Let me go! M-my name’s not even Luke. It’s Daniel.”

“GREAT! Time to spin the wheel of post-hypnotic suggestions. Ooooooh!”

Imp spins the large, multicolored wheel. In each color is a different image, indicating a different trigger. As the wheel spins, Imp’s eyelids start fluttering. He watches it, half-lidded, a blank look on his face. The wheel has stopped spinning. Five seconds pass. An Imptern in a black t-shirt and headset rushes onto the stage. She snaps her fingers in front of Imp’s face.

“Bwuh.. wha..?”

She hurriedly whispers, “Sir, you know you’re not supposed to look directly at the wheel.”

“It’s my show. I can look wherever I want.”

“You were just zoning out, again!”

“You know I can’t be effected by hypnosis, doll. Now, get off the stage, I’m trying to do a show.”

She rushes off. TEPID AUDIENCE LAUGHTER. Imp gestures to the wheel, which has landed on a drawing of a bottle.

“Oh, a classic! Are you ready for the trigger, darling?”

“P-please don’t, I-I…”

“Hmm, stuttering and slurring like that. Oh dear… How much have you had to drink?”

The contestant’s eyelids flutter. He looks confused. His cheeks flush.

“Whas… happening?”

“You heard me. How much have you had to drink?”

“I’ve haven’t had… anything. I… I feel…”

The contestant giggles, clearly drunk. AUDIENCE LAUGHS.

“Uh oh, I think he’s had a bit too much.”

“I don… nunderstand. I didn’t think it wass real but I ffeel…”

“Didn’t think what was real? Hypnosis? Brainwashing? If that was true, we’d all be out of the job! HA! Ohh, you poor thing, you look like you’re going to be sick. Are you ready for your test, darling?”

“Fffuck.”

“No swearing dear, we’re on LIVE TV! Considering your pitiful state, I’ll keep it simple. Your question is: If one doctor doctors another doctor, does the doctor who doctors the doctor doctor the doctor the way the doctor he is doctoring doctors? Or does he doctor the doctor the way the doctor who doctors doctors?

“I… wh… what?”

“I’m sorry, that’s wrong. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that that’s definitely not it.”

“Youu asked me a trick queshtion! Ompurpose! How’m I supposed to answer something like… that…? Shit… the room wontstop spinn..ninng…”

“Easy there, tiger. It’s time for a quick commercial break, but don’t you fret. We’ll be back to seal our dear contestant’s fate after this! (BUY IMPCO PRODUCTS!)”

There’s a commercial for Impco brand hypno-goggles. You’re not sure what hypno-goggles are, or what you’re even watching. But that Imp seems so nice. And he said to buy Impco products. So maybe you should…

(Decided to break this up with the commercials since it’s long but part 2 is coming soon! When I post it I will link it here.)

#big boss imp #my writing #hypnosis

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ask-robokasa-and-rui · 1 month ago

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Lore Post//

Rui please!

I just wanna talk to her…

You look like you didn’t have your morning coffee!

I just wanna talk to her…

The only people who should know about Robokasa should be me, you and the people that went through his making!

I don’t really care, It’s not like I’ll go “Oh Airi! Tsukasa is alive! Aah!” Because he’s not! I just want to hear her side of the story and her experience with Tsukasa.

What if it just…spills out?!

Minori, calm down…I don’t even think she’ll talk to me like a normal person…

Rui co-HEY WAIT!!!

Rui and Minori run to the back of the diner.

Meanwhile, Airi and Shizuku were walking away from the diner

Ah, what a day it was! We have to come here again someday, those doroyakis were so good!

Bad news, it’s going to be on air. So our fans will come there to find us. Meaning? It’s less safe for us now…

Ah…you’re right…we’ll have to get wigs to disguise ourselves…

You think those will work?

Miss Airi!

Huh?

Airi and Shizuku turn around to see the people back at the diner running at them.

Can I have a minute with you!

Oh, those are the ones from the diner...!

Let's get out of here...

Airi takes Shizuku's hand and walks faster, faster than Rui's running.

Wait-! Sigh...they're getting away...

Rui come oooon...Is it really that important?!

It is for me! I want to know more about the human and real Tsukasa! If she was his friend, she should know a lot.

Rui...

I'm going after her!

Fine!! I'm going back to Kanade then!

Gotcha!!

He says, as he runs to where the two idols went.

Airi and Shizuku had to part ways in case those "people from the diner" are following them. The place Airi stopped by was in front of a tech store, it was eerily quiet and empty. But that was fine.

Finally...I'm alone...And-

Miss Airi!!!

-?!?

Please wait! I just need a minute to talk!

Oh holy another crazy obsessed fan...

I just need a minute!!

Airi didn't listen and started running-

No...Do-!! DO YOU KNOW WHO TSUKASA TENMA IS?!

-until she stooped. She looked back at Rui with a look of surprise.

Y-...You...

Airi charged at Rui and gripped his neck as she pushed him against a wall.

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME!?

Agh-!! Y-You kinda said his name during the interview...!

I ONLY SAID HIS FIRST NAME!!! HOW DO YOU KNOW HIS LAST!?

I can tell you if you stop choking me...!

Fine.

Airi lets go of Rui

Gah-! Cough cough!! Thanks...

Now what do you want.

Cough! I want to know more about Tsukasa.

Know more? You already know him?

Ah-...No, I-I only heard of him...and I was curious...

Curiosity led you to follow me around?

Yeah okay I know Tsukasa...

How?

I ...I can't tell you...

Then how am I supposed to believe you?

I....This is going nowhere...I have to tell her if I want her to believe me but-

Well?

-I can't tell her about the robot Tsukasa! What should I do...

Okay...I'm leaving-

Fine. I'll tell you but...please don't freak out.

Hm.

Rui takes a deep breath...

Months ago...I found a robot in a junk yard, the robot's name was Tsukasa. And a few days ago, I learned that the robot Tsukasa was based off of another Tsukasa...a human one...one that died. And well...Robot Tsukasa doesn't have great access to his memories yet....So I want to learn more about him!

Rui said before he put his hand on his chest. Airi was looking at Rui with a look of surprise, then she laughed.

Ahahaha! Yeah right! Tsukasa? As a robot? Can't get more ridiculous.

I'm telling the truth!!

And I don't believe you! Later.

Ugh...

"Rui! There you are..."

Huh?

Rui turned around to see Tsukasa. Airi did the same which made her stop.

It's getting late! Why aren't you coming home?

T-...Tsukasa...?!

Huh?

Airi and Tsukasa made eye contact.

Uh...this is akward. Tsukasa-

Rui looked into Tsukasa's robot eyes. Rui always compared Tsukasa's robotic eyes with eyes of puppets and porcelain dolls. But the seconds he looked in those eyes...they looked....real. Like a human eye.

Airi...?

Said a raspy voice. Both Rui and Airi flinched at the sound, only to realize it came from Tsukasa.

Is that you....?

T-Tsukasa...No!! I left you, Asahi and Haruka!! I won't talk to you!!

Airi...Airi!! Do you hear me?! AIRIII!!!

Tsukasa pushed Rui away and ran towards Airi.

IYAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Airi screamed in terror as she ran away, Tsukasa following her from behind.

T-Tsukasa!! Airi!!

Rui ran after the two.

As Airi was running, she got cornered in an alleyway. Tsukasa was coming near. Her eye caught a knife on the ground. She picked it up, pointing it towards the approaching robot.

Airiiii....!!!

GET AWAY!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!!! I'M SO SICK OF THIS!!!!

AIRIIII!!!!

I DON'T NEED TO HEAR YOU OR HARUKA'S SCREAMS ANYMORE!!!! STEP AWAY OR BE GONE!!!!

AIRIIIIII!!!!!

DIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Airi charged at Tsukasa with the knife, Tsukasa still approaching her. Meanwhile, Rui found the two and ran in the alleyway.

Airi-! Tsukasa-!! Both of you!! Calm do-AAAGH!!!!

Rui let out a pained scream. A horrendous pain spiked in his stomac.

A knife.

The knife Airi was holding, aimed at Tsukasa, went through Rui's body.

A...A....

Rui collapsed. Falling in front of Tsukasa.

Kamishiro...

Tsukasa said. Rui could hear pain in the voice, and slight anger. The last thing Rui could see was Tsukasa charging at Airi. The last thing he could hear was Airi letting out a blood curdling scream.

Tags: @aspenii @bobcross1010 @blankblyke @mizuribbons @mai-mai-mai @kiwi-does-stuff @scodscod @dazeddoofus @kusanagi-nene-official-mod

#//yippei finally done!#//sorry for the wait #//school and all i was busy #project sekai #robokasa #rui talks #robokasa talks #airi talks #shizuku talks #minori talks #lore post

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secretsmutcorner · 4 months ago

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Bright and early, p.2

995 words | The dragon's toy (sequel to Bright and early, p.1)

Content | NSFWhump, monsterfuckery, noncon (oral), dehydration, captivity

Notes | The dragon is so patient and kind with its new acquisition 😌

Taglist | @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @echo-goes-aaa

"Please, my Lord," the elf breathed so quietly that they weren't sure whether the dragon ignored them, or just didn't hear them.

"While we are still working on your cunt," it gave the base of the toy a little shove, and even as they screeched, a wicked little grin bared its teeth, "you will have to use other means. You see I'm being very patient and considerate with you."

They stared at the dragon, helplessly. Their mind didn't seem to be working right, half witless with fear and so much more, and anyway, they had never pleasured anyone. In truth, they hadn't had much intention to--to be pleasured, yes, but-

The dragon grabbed them by the wrists and yanked them forward. They cried out again as they were shifted, floundering to find a half-kneeling position that was bearable--then they found their hands on the dragon's cock. It was hot, not enough to burn, but close to painful on their fingertips and--was there no end to the horror, how would it feel against their even more sensitive parts--?

They didn't dare withdraw even as the dragon let go, and before they could find their bearings, it had grabbed them by the hair and forced their head forward until their lips were touching its disgusting member, and without thought they opened them to avoid the heat.

They regretted it immediately as the dragon pushed them further, laughing, until their whole mouth was filled with its tip. "Eager. Now, I promised we'd work on your holes stepwise, and I'll keep to that even though you've been so naughty."

It gave their head just the smallest yank, and its cock pushed far enough against the back of their throat to make them gag, make their mouth water as if they were about to be sick. But then, chuckling, it let go, only grabbing the back of their head when they had already fully slipped it out, preventing them from getting any distance between them.

"Clearly we'll have a lot of work to do there as well, hm? But for now, you'll use your tongue and your sweet little lips."

They still felt sick. They didn't want to they didn't want to they didn't want--

"If you don't, I suppose I'll have to use your hole anyway. How tragic for your kingdom to have to provide another sacrifice so soon. I don't want that, you're a fun little thing."

They sobbed. They didn't know when the tears had started falling--they shouldn't, they were already in desperate need of water.

They stuck out their tongue and licked, reluctantly. They didn't want to think about what they were tasting. They didn't want to think about anything. They didn't want this.

"Now, a little more enthusiasm, little toy. Get your whole little tongue out here and apply yourself, hm? I don't want to have to drag it out with my claws."

The elf sobbed, but they stretched their tongue out as far as it would go, and licked harder.

The dragon purred. "Keep going. Make your way around. There's a good toy."

As they continued, they felt their wrist grabbed again, and their hands puppeteered along the dragon's shaft.

"A little tighter, toy..." There was now a breathiness to the dragon's voice. It was enjoying itself as they cried with humiliation and the lingering pain. "That's good."

Its cock jerked in their hands, smacking them in the mouth. Its grip tightened painfully in their hair as they flinched back. Something slimy dripped down in front of them, and glimpsing up, they saw the dragon drooling down on its cock, the saliva running down to coat their hands.

"Keep going."

They didn't get to hesitate--the dragon shoved their head forward again, and crying, they licked at it more, feeling its spit mix horrendously with their own. Then its claws were back on their wrists, manipulating them, just like a toy.

After too long, the dragon shoved its tip back into their mouth, and moments later, it came.

The elf tried to flinch back as cum gushed into their mouth, filling it with heat and bitterness, but the dragon held them firmly in place.

"You're going to swallow, little toy."

They whimpered, some of it already running down their chin. It was so much, and it was so gross, and they wanted nothing to do with it-

The dragon pushed further into their throat, and they retched. "If you don't swallow now, I'm just going to use you until I come again, so you can learn."

They couldn't. Their throat was tied and it was all they could do not to throw up and they forced a small swallow and that made it worse-

The dragon loosened its grip just the smallest bit. "Go on. All of it. Weren't you so hungry?"

So they forced it down, they didn't know how; but the dragon dropped them, letting them collapse on all fours, crying and shaking and sick to their stomach.

"See, that wasn't half bad," the dragon purred, and they had to assume it meant for itself, because for them- for them-

"You may go attend to your needs now. Not more than half an hour, I would say. Then you'll start cleaning. Go."

They didn't even look to see where the dragon went when it finally moved away. They just crawled back to their alcove, trying to get themself back together. Their cunt throbbed with pain from the spanking, and inside it was still stretched too far, this had to be a bigger toy--how were they supposed to walk, let alone carry a water bucket?

But they had no choice. They needed water. They collected the bucket, throwing aside the cleaning rags. Standing up made the pain inside them worse, but they had to carry the damned thing. Their legs awkwardly apart, they made their way into the passage the dragon had pointed out, hearing it laugh behind them.

#whump #nsfwhump #whump writing #my writing #the dragon's toy

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didididraws · 9 months ago

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my tablet is currently halfway across the country for repairs (my brother's the most tech-savvy in my family and asking him to take a look at it was cheaper than taking it to a shop) so i haven't been able to draw lately. i've made a bunch of traditional sketches in the meantime, but none of them are presentable enough to post here, so i decided to take a trip down memory lane and fill out one of foxorian's influence maps!

below the cut are the names of the artists featured here, as well as a little bit of director's commentary on how they've influenced me :]

yugo limbo (website, tumblr, twitter) - some time last year, i realized something profoundly unnerving: i actually... don't like the art in smile for me's original release all that much? that's not to say it's bad, just that there isn't a whole lot about it outside of maybe its architecture that stands out to me. which is REALLY WEIRD, considering i wrote a whole retrospective about how much this game means to me. art-wise, however, it was only after smile for me's release that yugo limbo's art evolved in a way that really resonated with me; i love how textured everything is, i love the way they simplify clothing folds and the way that skin wrinkles around the joints, i love their love for puppets; all of those things ended up worming their way into my art style and tastes one way or another, and i couldn't be happier!! it didn't feel right to leave smile for me out of the equation entirely, though, so i chose a piece that was both related to that game and that i felt reflected a lot of what i love about yugo's more recent art.

echobsilly (twitter, tumblr) - oh god, speaking of yugo limbo - god. i fucking love echo's art so much i have no idea how to even do it justice in writing. like many people i first found him through his smile for me/limbolane fanart and animations - and those are some of his best work, don't get me wrong, but i really wanted to include one of his original designs to make a point that he's just fuckin great at art in general. character design, facial expressions, body language, composition, LIGHTING... he makes it all just. so so so gorgeous. i always liked "painterly" art styles for lack of a better word, but i think his art is what first pushed me to embrace that more in my digital art. i also like how he talks about dr. habit like he's his dead wife. i'm very proud to call him a friend these days :]

japhers (tumblr, twitter, instagram) - i first found japhers' art in high school and he very quickly became a HUUUUUGE influence on my taste in character and costume design. one of the big reasons i never fully bought into the idea that men's fashion is inherently harder to design is bc so much of his art is already dedicated to exploring fashion Without the restrictions of a gender binary in place which is to say that he's really good at drawing buff dudes in frilly outfits. i also think he gave me more confidence to draw more intricate costumes without having to worry about super dainty and clean lineart, bc a lot of his art looks like it's kinda been carved/rendered out of sketches, and it is Gorgeous.

moe suppe (website, tumblr, cohost) - another artist i found in high school, albeit originally from a long-gone instagram account. his art is what kickstarted my desire to have some Roughness in my art, some Texture. it may not have stuck to my lineart, but it Definitely stuck to my rendering. it helped that i was going through a pretty big angel/demon phase at the time, which meant i was pretty immediately drawn in by his delightfully weird worldbuilding. i should probably read fear not now that it's an actual serial...

val wise (website, itch.io, twitter, instagram) - a more recent influence, but a pretty significant one nonetheless. i featured the cover of délicatesse here because it was the first thing from him that i had ever read, but in general his grasp on the human body really blows me away given how deceptively simple his style looks at first glance, especially his faces. the way fat and hair sits on her bodies, and how much it varies from character to character... it's beautiful without being So glamorous that it feels untouchable. his costume design is also great. i recommend his comics for low fantasy/ursula k. le guin fans who are Dying to see more fat characters in leading roles. i also just found out that i am of two hearts is free on itch.io, so i'll be treating myself to that over spring break.

partycoffin (tumblr, twitter) - if you have known me for any amount of time at all then this should not come as a surprise to you. i actually wasn't going to include partycoffin in this map at first, because while welcome home has inspired me in Many creative pursuits, i didn't think visual art was one of them? i definitely picked up some of clown's love for dramatic lighting and thinner lines with just a smidge of well-placed hatching subconsciously, though.

ryoko kui - probably the most recent artist featured here? anyways i have a confession to make: i have yet to read dungeon meshi. i just know that when i saw a post compiling a bunch of ryoko kui's sketches from her daydream hour series, i was so overwhelmed with this feeling of, like… "oh, yeah, these capture almost everything i love about women as flesh and blood people. when i draw women this is the kind of beauty that i want people to see in them." of course, ryoko kui is a great character designer in general, but something about her women specifically really speak to me. the earthier color palettes and rendering also do a lot to endear her art to me.

shuzo oshimi - specifically his art in blood on the tracks. something that really stood out to me in that series was whenever the shadows would get really intense, and you'd get these big blocks of black with just the faintest bit of hatching to soften out some of their edges. it was always very effective in creating this sense of claustrophobia. i really want to keep incorporating that in my more intense pieces!

person918x (tumblr, instagram) - i don't work with 3d art often and i don't see myself doing so any time soon, but the composition of person918x's pieces is something i take a lot of inspiration of. i also love his sequential art, as someone who does a lot of dream journaling it's sick to see the exact Vibe of a dream be put to (digital) canvas. i also firmly believe that he's one of the only people out there who knows what he's doing when it comes to using generative AI in art.

oops i made this list too long so now i have to put the last two artists in a new block.

10. meatgiri (twitter, instagram) - definitely the artist i've known about the longest out of this selection. i think i've been following her since…. oh god. since i was in middle school. way before she was meatgiri, even. i think her influence probably shows up the least in my art, but there are definitely some characteristics that stuck with me for a very long time (the lil block of black accompanied by one or two lines for shading on the neck, the looser lineart making it really easy to incorporate soft curves and sharp edges, the Eyes, etc etc.) i chose this drawing of her oc juniper bc i thought it was both reflective of her current art And a good embodiment of a lot of things i wanted to emulate from her art as a young'un.

11. dragan bibin (website, instagram) - specifically his 'deimos' series. much like with person918x, it's his compositions that really stand out to me the most, and you probably know by now that i'm a sucker for high contrast. i find it interesting though that he uses high contrast to obscure more than he does to highlight... helps a lot with giving the deimos paintings that air of Quiet Unease. another thing i want to incorporate in my horror-adjacent art! manmade environments gone wrong!

#not art #influence map #artists on tumblr #yugo limbo #echobsilly #japhers #moe suppe #val wise #partycoffin #ryoko kui #shuzo oshimi #person918x #meatgiri #dragan bibin

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