#just because my legs suck doesn’t mean I can’t suck yanno

[viktoriousevolution]

As a disabled guy somewhere on the ace spectrum who has similar physical issues to Viktor I need more content of Viktor not only inventing fun new unique ways to fuck but also using sex as pain relief and/or a distraction. You’re telling me the two brightest minds in all of Piltover can’t come up with one of those elastic sex stools? A swing? Toys? Do you realise how sexy massages are? The body worship and physical touch as a love language of it all?

[meowzfordayz]

analysis (; — hashira men

Author’s Note: took this not-actually-a-prompt and got carried away heh... 😌

analysis (; — hashira men

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

CW: 18+NSFW, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral, spit, squirting

Thirst Fulfilled: I NEED someone to settle an argument between me and a friend-

Do you think sanemi has a big [redacted]-

Because I KNOW he is packing a huge one.

Ps I’m sorry but I don’t know who else to ask 😭

~faqs~

Update as of 12 May 2023: A foreword that these headcanons are first and foremost indulgent !! 😌 They are not intended to be realistic. They’re supposed to be fun. Hot. 🥵 Within the realm of possibility, but not ~normal. 😉

Dick so big it has him blushing 🤭

—I mean, c’mon: Look at him 😳

That being said, it’s also very pretty — not monstrous or scary (besides its size heh)

A nice, rounded head that oozes precum throughout foreplay, sensitive and rosy pink as you flick your tongue across it, thick and heavy balls tightening at the breathy moan in your throat

A delicate vein curves from its base to the underside of the tip, thankfully not too pronounced, bc it’ll stretch you out enough regardless

Speaking of stretch…

Your fingers can barely wrap around its girth — it’s much easier to drool and lap at the shaft than commit to anything close to deep throating (unless your jaw stamina’s through the roof 👀)

Doesn’t exactly groom himself, but that isn’t too much of an issue since it’s not like his pubic hair’s getting in your way too often (re: dick too huge to regularly deepthroat) 

As for length, Gyomei’s in the ball park of ~reasonable (10 inches when erect), but it still requires a hell of a lot of prep before you’re fully seated on his cock, ass flush against his flexed thighs while large, sweaty hands grip your hips in a feeble attempt to restrain himself from immediately thrusting into your dimly throbbing cervix

“This okay?” he murmurs, thumbs pressing firmly into the softness of your skin, low groan caught in his chest at the suffocating heat of your pussy, your shaky, faintly pained breaths keeping his desire in check

“Take as much time as you need,” as you use his stomach to steady yourself, muscles rippling beneath your palms

“You feel wonderful,” whispered gently—patient as ever—even as he longs to raise your trembling body up and almost off of his cock, only to fuck the air out of your lungs w/ a single, smooth drop of your wanton weight, unsuspecting wail music to his ears as you convulse in orgasm at the overwhelming pressure of his cock stuffing your puffy walls

Obanai’s closer to average, but he isn’t small (at least, his dick isn’t 😆 #short king)

Def a grower, slim, veiny shaft elongating (to ~6 inches) as you stroke him w/ a practiced flick of your wrist

Not exactly related to his dick, but he also def growls during foreplay, needy and eager to melt into you and to ruin you — just depends on his mood, yanno?

His head is the kind of head that you almost wanna chomp 🤗, all squishy, bulbous, and fat, quickly reddening and weeping precum, making a mess of your fingers

Perfect lubrication for touching yourself while sucking him off, gleam in his eyes at how filthy you are

Typically can’t be bothered to trim his pubic hair, but it doesn’t get especially long anyway — more so coarse and curly

His shaft doesn’t stretch you out significantly, sliding easily into your slick heat, hovering above you as his hands keep your legs parted widely, “You like being splayed out for me, hm?” pinching lightly at your inner thigh, grinning smugly as you whimper contently, “My precious plaything.”

But it (his shaft) does have a wicked, upward curve, tip grinding firm and repetitive against the spongy bundle of nerves deep in your pussy

And its veins 🤤

What he lacks in girth, he makes up for in texture

Plus, Obanai 11/10 fucks aggressive and erratic, pubic bone flush to your clit, friction delicious and constant as he thrusts full force into your hole, sweat dripping from his brow onto your clavicle, his eyes narrowed in lust and passion, balls slapping sticky against your asshole, less concerned about hurting you since he’s aware that he isn’t ~the biggest guy on the block

Altho, if he’s tired, then he lowkey enjoys you on top, edging him w/ every slow and steady undulation of your hips, your tits pressed warm and hot to his chest as he clings to you and the squelch of your cunt

For whatever reason, my immediate thought was: Raging! Hard! On! 😂😍

Kyojuro’s absolutely packing, but still decently proportionate to his stature (177cm aka 5’10”)

—Bc, contrary to porn-pular belief, comically large dicks hurt 😒💀

8 inches erect, and a sizeable bulge when flaccid

—Never thought I’d use this term, bc (imo) it’s hot when I’m horny, but 🥴 when I’m ~sober 😆…

BREEDER BALLS

As much as Kyojuro loves worshiping your pussy, he might love when you worship his balls more 🤭

You kissing, sucking, licking his balls while he jerks himself off = 100% orgasm guarantee

Drooling on his shiny, reddening tip, your spit trickling down between his fingers, making a mess of your lips as you return to fondling his balls w/ your mouth?

110% orgasm guarantee

Prefers cumming on your tits, btw — will stave off his orgasm until you can get ~in position ☺️

Nothing like an even messier round two 😎

Bc, ofc, he is more than happy to reciprocate the pleasure 💞

W/ enough girth to warrant a gradual sinking (vs an abrupt thrust to the hilt), his shaft fills you breathless, its last couple of inches just barely fitting into your heat

“Can’t believe you’re already hard again,” you giggle delightedly, eyes hazy as he smears his cum across your nipple, throbbing head pressing deeper into your pussy, “You’re insatiable, I swear.”

A heady groan is his only response, gaze bright and attentive as always, reaching for your hand, dipping your thumb into his cum splatter, tasting himself on your skin as he maintains eye contact

“Fuck,” you gasp, pussy clenching at his nonchalance, tongue swiping subconsciously along your bottom lip

“Taste?” he offers, enthusiastic tone muted by the determined pressure of him lapping at your other nipple, his cum bitter and warm as he kisses you sloppy and needy, grip gentle on your jaw as he inhales your scent

And then you whisper Umai!

One word: brutal 😵‍💫

Not bc he’s ridiculously hung (i.e. Gyomei), but bc he’s ridiculously good (at using his dick)

—I actually headcanon Sanemi being a ~bashful virgin (sex can be intimate, and intimacy can be scary, but he loves you, so if that means being soft and scared w/ you… then he’s willing to go there 🥺🤍), buuut once he’s comfortable/well practiced?

—😈😈😈

Not much of a show-er when flaccid (and absolutely, positively shriveled when cold 😂), but an ideal 7 inches when erect w/ girth in between Gyomei and Kyojuro (slimmer than Gyo, thicker than Kyo)

His tip seems to get ~angrier the longer you tease him, going from an almost cute pink to an engorged, lustful red — def the hardest part about fitting him in your pussy, breath catching every time he finally slips into your dripping hole

Which, he has to get you dripping before attempting to penetrate, or at least use lube, bc rushed sex + his dick = not super enjoyable

Alternatively, he’ll facefuck you to get his dick wet enough for your pussy, 7 inches manageable, albeit veering on unpleasant, your nails digging into his flexed ass as he shoves himself languid and satisfied into your mouth, head twitching and leaking precum down the back of your throat whenever you gag on his length

“Watch your teeth,” he grunts lowly, tugging warningly at your hair, swallowing a moan as his cock muffles your whimper, eyes watering at his roughness, “Don’t make me gag and choke you,” calloused fingers brushing soothingly—promisingly—at your neck

In terms of pubic hair, he keeps it neatly trimmed, but not clean shaven: he likes hearing—seeing—the filthy mess of your saliva, tears, and precum as he fucks up and into your pussy

“Is this fast enough for you?” he snarls, your body balanced precariously atop his pelvis, grip nearly bruising on your hips as he smirks knowingly, “Obviously not,” pace frenzied as you moan raggedly, “If you’re still moaning like a whore, then it isn’t fast enough.”

Feet shifting beneath him in search of a different angle, grin triumphant and deadly as you shout silently, head tilted backward, tits bouncing in mesmerizing sync w/ his thrusts

“There we go,” he murmurs, balls tightening at your fucked out expression, “There’s my perfect cunt, squeezing all pathetic and hopeless around my cock,” stamina never ending, pussydrunk on the feeling of you, “Can’t wait for you to cum on my cock, gonna make this cunt so fucking sloppy.”

The prettiest dick 😭

—Ik I mentioned Gyomei’s dick being pretty too, but Giyuu takes pretty to another lvl 🥺

Aka Giyuu has the Goldilocks Cock™ 💀

Just shy of 7 inches, w/ thin veins that curl neat and yummy around his shaft — which, btw, is thick enough to have you pushing on his shoulders Slowly, p-please as the tip catches on your entrance, his eyes hooded and glassy as he ignores you in favor of thrusting in further Sorry not sorry at all You feel so g-good

A faint shudder trembles down his spine, pooling in his groin, traveling along his girth, head twitching in the viscous grip of your heat

Maintains a tidy patch of pubic hair, delicate happy trail tantalizing and subtle whenever he stretches 🥱

As for his balls… once again: Goldilocks Balls™ 🤤

Optimally sized for sucking into your mouth, hanging beautifully even, downy hairs tickling your nose as he cups the back of your head, quiet groans spilling from his cherry bitten lips as you glance toward his fluttering lashes, your vision obscured by the muscle of his tensed inner thigh

Giyuu’s fave position? 

—for these headcanons, at least 😆

Cowgirl 🤠 #yee #haw

Your pussy clings to his shaft like a greedy vice, creamy essence smearing from your swollen folds to his lower abdomen, tits presented as you arch backward, using his legs to steady yourself as you fuck yourself on his (perfect) cock

“Touch yourself,” he demands softly, spreading your asscheeks w/ surprisingly cool hands, easily supporting your weight, eyes closing at the satisfying smack of your skin bouncing against his

“Touch yourself till you cum,” his biceps hardly straining as you chase your orgasm, rhythm smooth and delectable, “I want to feel you fall apart,” murmured slick and gentle, in stark contrast to the lewd squish of his balls tapping your asshole

“C’mon sweetheart, fall apart for me, so gorgeous on my cock, love feeling you gush all over me.”

—I pondered long and hard about Tengen’s dick (both puns intended 🤗)

—Lemme organize my thoughts for a sec…

—Girth (from wide to slim): Gyomei, Tengen, Sanemi, Kyojuro, Giyuu, Obanai

—Length (from long to ~short): Gyomei, Tengen, Kyojuro, Sanemi, Giyuu, Obanai

In other words, as the second tallest, Tengen also happens to be the second biggest 🙃

—I initially considered putting him behind Kyo in terms of length, but 198cm aka 6’6” vs 177cm aka 5’10”... the math just wouldn’t have mathed 😆

Erect, Tengen measures a solid 9 inches, and if Obanai’s dick is veiny, then Tengen’s dick = veins GALORE 😵

“Even my dick is flashy! 😎” “It has ✨decor✨!”

His shaft bends slightly downward (blame gravity — his dick’s so fucking heavy 😌), so certain positions can be a bit tricky, but damn if he doesn’t rearrange your insides 🤪

Def enjoys being the center of attention, fucking slow and confident into your stretched out hole, dirty talk muffled by Makio’s thighs as he maintains a steady rhythm licking her folds, Hina’s index finger slim and practiced as she stimulates your clit, Suma’s tongue gliding wet and hot against Tengen’s taint

“What was that?” Makio coos, eyes twinkling as she grinds firmly onto Tengen’s mouth, “We can’t understand you dear,” squealing when he smacks her tits, “You seem a bit preoccupied, try speaking up.”

“S-shit,” you gasp, gripping Hina’s hand, pressure building as Tengen thrusts sharply into you, “D-don’t encourage him Makio,” whining as Hina latches onto your nipple, sucking lightly

“Why not?” Makio giggles, ass wiggling playfully, “Can’t take it?” knowing all too well that, ultimately, your pussy’s paying the price for her teasing

“Hm, you’re so messy babe,” Suma sighs contently, pausing her ministrations to kiss Tengen’s thigh, lips shiny w/ spit and your essence, “Seems like you want Makio to encourage him.”

Hina nods in agreement, eyes narrowed devilishly, twisting your other nipple, “Her clit’s throbbing,” spoken w/ unbearable casualness, “I think she’s going to cum.”

“Are you going to cum?” Tengen asks conversationally, finally taking a breath from Makio’s pussy, engorged tip twitching in your cunt, “I’ve hardly ruined you, and you’re already spasming on my cock.”

“T-tengen,” you whimper, clenching at his taunting tone, falling forward, cheek smooshed into Makio’s back, “So fucking d-deep,” stuttering as the new angle forces his fat head flush to the entrance of your cervix

“Think we can get her to squirt?” Tengen hums smugly, a hypothetical question, really, as you begin convulsing, pussy gushing messily onto his stomach, Hina’s hand glistening, ignoring your meek mewls of T-too much! as she continues rubbing your clit, Suma lapping at your cum as it coats Tengen’s balls, trickling between his asscheeks

[helluva-hurricanes-blog]

I don’t really talk about my fnaf au much so I wanna talk about my canons in it that are vastly different from actual canon. This one is specifically about William (ofc, I don’t have an obsession with him). I think you’ll find it interesting because he’s a lot different from canon William, the cold and heartless bastard that he is.

William ISNT a bad dad. Everybody makes him out to be super abusive and it’s canon, but I like it better this way obvs. In my au, he made the fun times originally in the image of his family. Baby for Elizabeth, Ballora for his wife, Funtime Freddy for the crying child, and Funtime foxy for Michael. In my au, his wife, who I’ve named Isabelle, died from a sickness and he was very distraught about it, so that’s why he changed what they were about and started to murder- to try and find out how to bring people back to life. And then, well, his other 2 kids died so that’s why kids died... Anyway! Back to my point- he’s a good dad, just a super workaholic. He gets consumed in it and also has a hard time with empathy so it’s harder to relate to his kids, but he tries. In my au, he’s only a murderer to bring his family back (Michael still ended up hating him because why would William tell him what he’s doing?)

In canon, especially from the books, it looks like he’s super poor? In referencing Silver Eyes. Like why? He makes robots and had a company! He should be at least decently wealthy? Well, in my au he had a huge company, kinda like Apple or something. Just really profitable. He Invented robots, and makes several other things, like household appliances, cars, etc. it’s actually Henry who was poor and William helped him financially with his idea. (Also William handles most of the finances for fredbears and freddys but I think that’s actually canon? Idk)

William didn’t graduate Highschool. Yanno those famous people, who just weren’t cut out for school but still ended up famous? Yeah, I feel like William was kinda too smart for school and dropped out to become an entrepreneur. He seems like the guy to like high risk high reward plans.

William had a terrible family life, which is why he ended up the way he did. This is no means a “sob story to explain away everything he did” head canon, just a “this is why he is the way he is”. His father was terrible and didn’t love him, abused him emotionally and physically. That’s another reason he dropped out- to get away from THAT asshole, who in my story is named Abraham. Abraham Afton

Henry and William are both really good artists, just Henry’s more creative with crazy ideas and William is just good at it.

William had naturally curly hair, which in turn means Michael has naturally curly hair. So something people never really talk about is that the robots thought Michael was William, which made me think that they look almost exactly alike. Michael’s silhouette has curly or poofy hair, so Williams does. He just tries to straighten it out (yes this man straightens his hair) and Michael doesn’t give a fuck. It’s why I draw Williams hair wavy, because he can’t fight it. Also Michael had purple eyes in sister location, even tho ennard has blue, which makes me think his natural eye colour is purple, which means Williams eye colour must also be purple. I feel like the other 3 had green eyes.

William is kinda seriously a prissy boi. He straightens his hair, shaves his legs (and other parts) and has a kinda feminine demeanor. Feminine hands, very smol, sits either super feminine or man spreads like there’s no tomorrow.

William had a really good stage performance with Henry. Henry was good, but William took it to the next level. He actually used springbonnie the way it was meant to be used before he killed people, and he did it well.

So that’s all, I can’t really give anymore away about it without spoiling my lore. Speaking of which, I’m gonna make comics of my au. I actually wrote it in a story like form but it kinda sucks ass like really bad cuz it was from a while ago, but I still like my concepts and not my actual writing. It might take a super long time because I wrote like 5 books (yes, I was super dedicated) and 3 of them were like 30 chapters long. I didn’t finish the other 2. So if you like look forward to it I guess? I would love it if you asked questions because I really wanna share my au with you guys since I’ve been working on it since 2015, when like fnaf 2 or fnaf 3 came out 😳 it’s been a long ass time 😅

[spacexcowgirl]

I’d Lie - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N fell for her best friend, but she can’t let him, or anyone else, know that.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication, swearing, mentions of food, LOTS of pining and unrequited love, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: This is a song fic inspired by the wonderful unreleased song “I’d Lie” by Taylor Swift! mmmm this is my first fic without a *happy* ending and boy does that make me sad. But do not worry I quite literally already have a second part planned oops. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

I don’t think that passenger seat 

Has ever looked looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Y/N distracted herself with her fingers, tangling and untangling them and cracking her knuckles. It was all she could do to stop herself from completely ogling the boy sitting beside her on the couch. He was positioned towards her, one leg bent at the knee and resting between them on the couch. His hands moved back and forth wildly as he spoke, recounting some story that had happened during quidditch practice that night.

“Are you even listening?” George cut himself off, his tone light. When Y/N snapped her head up to look at him, she found that he was smiling, but still he looked a bit offended.

“‘course I’m listening.” Y/N reassured quickly, her eyes finally meeting his. That was all it took, and suddenly she was being reeled into those chocolate brown eyes, drowning in their various shades and hues, with no way out.

Y/N wasn’t sure when her feelings for her best friend shifted from friendly to something more. It was as if one day his messy hair transformed from something to giggle and roll her eyes at to something to swoon over. When his pranks made her admire his genius rather than scold the disturbance they caused. When his incessant teasing shifted from mild annoyance to exuberant joy from receiving any attention from him. Of course, these shifts all happened slowly, over a period of time, but the realization of them hit Y/N all at once. She was head over heels for the boy, and she hadn’t even realized she had been falling.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d be convinced that someone was slipping her a love potion. Or, maybe, she just hoped that, because Godric would it be less embarrassing than the reality of things. Because the reality was, Y/N really had just fallen for George Weasley, no potions or gimmicks needed, and while she was irrevocably in love with him, he had no clue. 

“Seems like you zoned out for a second,” George lightly nudged her with his elbow, although a glowing smile remained illuminated on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Y/N racked her brain for an excuse, something believable, because she knew George could always see right through her. “Just classes, I guess. Umbridge. All of it. I guess I’m just stressed out.”

“So you’ve been letting me carry on about quidditch?” George sounded shocked, but his teasing smile was comforting. “Please, love, if you need something to take your mind off things, you should’ve just said so.”

Without Y/N even having to tell him what she needed, he was up and off the couch, rushing towards the boys’ dormitory steps. Y/N only had a moment to furrow her brows, before George was rushing back down them with a jumper in one hand and a bag of sugar quills, her favorite, in the other. Y/N exhaled a deep sigh, before the involuntary glow and warmth overtook her. Because no matter how much she longed to only view George as a friend, everything about him permeated her subconscious, lamenting and solidifying his place as more.

He’ll never fall in love he swears

As he runs his fingers through his hair

I’m laughing ‘cause I hope he’s wrong

Y/N and George walked side by side down the corridor, laughter bubbling from both of their chests. Y/N adored moments like these, when she could forget everything for just a moment and just bask in the presence of her favorite person. Ultimately, they always were ruined by her feelings hitting her like a truck, or by someone coming to steal him away, so she always tried to live in those few peaceful moments for as long as she could.

George nudged her with his elbow after making a joke, and just as she was about to respond she noticed the change in his demeanor. He was no longer laughing, but instead a small smirk had appeared on his face as he nodded a few feet ahead of them. Y/N followed his gaze, her eyes landing upon his twin brother leaned casually against the wall. In front of him was Angelina, his girlfriend, rocking on her heels as she giggled at something he said.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” George prodded, shaking his head a bit as Fred swooped down to steal a kiss on her lips.

“I think they’re cute.” Y/N tugged her books into her chest, tilting her head to the side as she watched the love-stricken couple. Angelina could have a tough exterior, and Fred could be a lot to handle, but they just got each other so well. Y/N would never say it aloud, but she envied them.

“You would think so,” George scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to listen to him ramble on about her every bloody second of the day.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Y/N teased, turning her body away from the couple to face George instead.

“Hardly.” George rolled his eyes, shifting his books into one arm. He slowly raked his fingers through his newly cut hair as he spoke again, entrancing Y/N entirely. “Love’s just not in the cards for me right now. Someone’s gotta worry about products, and about making Umbridge’s day as awful as possible.”

Y/N laughed at his joke, although she felt a little sting in her heart. Sure, he had said ‘right now,’ and perhaps that should have incited some hope in her, but it didn’t. It just made her chest ache. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t just drop it. She had to push on, test her luck and hope that George would offer her any sort of solace.

“Come on, I think it would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, and she found she suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. “Someone you could share everything with? Yanno, they could just be like… your person.”

George seemed to mull over her words for a moment, before swinging his arm around her shoulder and continuing to push down the corridor.

“Well, I already have you for that, right?” George beamed down at her. “Why would I need a girlfriend? You’re already my person.”

Y/N was certain her heartbreak could be heard throughout the school.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn’t a light go on?

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?

The party was in full swing, blinding lights and near deafening music. It was risky, what with Umbridge slinking around every corner, desperate to give students a detention, but they needed this. Something about this year felt different, and not in a good way, and Fred and George knew one of their infamous parties was just small way to lift spirits.

Y/N scanned the crowd of people, nursing sips of her firewhisky every few moments. Parties weren’t necessarily her thing, but she couldn’t deny that she needed to unwind. As her eyes finally fell upon their desired target, she couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled in her chest or the smile that involuntarily rose on her lips. Once George met her gaze, he shot her a wink and beckoned her over, and she was quick to oblige.

“Having fun, darling?” George rested his weight against her, clearly much more drunk than she was.

“A bit,” Y/N giggled. “Not as much as you, I reckon.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” George slurred, giving her a drunken pout. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Y/N teased innocently, shifting her weight to better support the boy. She wrapped an arm around his back, using it to steady both him and her. “Maybe you should lay off the drinking for now though, what d’ya think?”

“Fineeeee.” George elongated the last vowel before grinning down at the girl. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N hummed in response, a small smile of her own growing as she felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “What would you do without me?”

“Hm. Probably die. Fred’s doing, no doubt.” He leaned down to rest his head against the top of hers, shutting his eyes for a moment as he centered himself. “Honestly though, I’m really thankful for you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

Drunk George was always a bit sappy, but Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain. His words felt like a shock flowing through her nervous system, hitting every neuron and sparking her to life. Alternatively, she also felt completely useless in producing a response.

“Godric, I really do have the best friend in the world.” He hummed.

And just like that, the shock was sucked from her body and she was left feeling nothing but empty.

He sees everything black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Y/N had searched for George for hours. After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, what should have been a wonderful celebration quickly went south. Y/N had watched from the stands as three team members held Fred back and Harry loosely clung to George, as both boys attempted to charge Draco. Of course, she couldn’t hear whatever he said that got the two so worked up, but from the look on George’s face she was certain it must have been bad. Everything seemed to move in slow motion once she saw Harry let go of George, and she watched with bated breath and wide eyes as  he lunged at the Slytherin boy.

Of course, she had heard about the twins’ and Harry’s lifetime ban from Quidditch, and she knew George must be feeling awful now. So, she had to find him. Even if he didn’t want to see her, or anyone, she had to be there for him.

She had checked just about every spot in the castle she could think of, sighing profusely each time that she came up empty. Fred and George knew the hidden corridors and passageways of the school better than anyone, and she was certain he had used that to his advantage. 

Just as she was about to give up, she decided to check one last spot that she knew of. She crept slowly up to the seventh floor, careful to make sure no one was following her. She paced back and forth three times, just as she had been taught, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door appeared. Quietly, she pushed it open, and her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar head of red hair. She had found him.

It didn’t appear he had heard her come in, and she used that to her advantage as she slowly surveyed the room. She felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as she took in the familiar sight of the burrow living room and heard George’s quiet sobs from his place before the fire. After the day he had, all he wanted was the warmth of his home.

“Georgie?” Y/N whispered quietly, letting the door shut behind her. 

Immediately, George straightened up and wiped at his eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and she knew there was a reason for that. Fred and him both felt they had to be strong all the time, they had to be the ones cracking jokes and making people laugh even when it was hard for them. When he glanced back, his face was red and splotchy, but a forced smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, darling.” His voice sounded scratchy, and it was clear it was taking all of his power to keep it together. Y/N could see that his lip was busted, illuminated by the fire, and she wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and nurse him back to perfect health. “Reckon you saw the fight earlier?”

“Your lip…” Y/N spoke softly, approaching him with tentative steps. She didn’t have the capacity to answer his question, not when he looked so broken and beaten down.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” George swiped his thumb over his lip, and Y/N didn’t miss his slight wince. “You should see the other guy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She finally reached him, taking her place beside him on the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to joke and pretend everything’s fine, not with me.”

George studied her for a moment before a shuddering breath left his lips. As the tears began to pool once more, he could no longer meet her eyes. And that killed her.

“I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much.” He spoke, sounding entirely disappointed in himself. “But, the things he said, about my mum, my family. And then Umbridge…” His words cut off as the tears began to roll down his cheeks once more.

“I’m so sorry, George.” Y/N reached out and gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to brush a few tears away. When he leaned into her touch, her heart soared. “You don’t have to shut yourself off, though. I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and brought her forehead to his, letting her eyes shut as well. Her hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of it. The action seemed to calm him a bit, so she continued to do it. By the light and warmth of the fire, the two sat in silence. Neither needed to say anything, they just wanted to be near each other. 

“I love you, you know that?” George was the first to break the silence, not bothering to open his eyes or pull away from her touch.

“I know.” Y/N spoke quietly. “And I love you too.”

And Godric, did she mean it. But she was aware that they meant it in entirely different ways, and that George had no idea.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say,

“I’m holding every breath for you.”

Months had passed since that night in the room of requirement, and while so much had changed, so much had stayed the same as well. Y/N had felt herself drifting from George everyday, and not because either of them wanted to. George and Fred were leaving, Y/N knew that, and they had to get everything in order to do so. So, Y/N had to push through everyday with him no longer constantly by her side, and she swore it was killing her.

A few nights prior, he had let her know that this was it, that him and Fred were really doing it. She had faked a smile, excitedly throwing her arms around his neck as she expressed how proud she was. And she was proud, but her chest ached and she swore she felt her stomach in her throat. It was selfish, sure, but she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get through the year without him.

Now she stood in the corridor outside of the great hall, bouncing nervously on her heels as she watched him say his goodbyes to Lee. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but there was already a stinging behind her eyes and she feared no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions at bay, it would be futile. 

When George finally turned and took a few long strides to where she stood, her fears were confirmed. Her tears spilled involuntarily as she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that,” George pleaded softly, gently scraping his fingers up and down her back. “You know I’ll write the second that I’m out of here, and it’s only a short bit before you graduate and I see you again.”

“I know, it’s just…” Y/N sniffled, forcing herself to imprint the moment in her brain. She wanted to remember his scent, and the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was cheesy, or overdramatic, but Y/N could feel her heartbreaking by the second, and holding onto ever piece of him that she could was the only thing keeping her together. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling.” George chuckled softly. He pulled back slowly, planting his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, I promise.”

“You’re right, I know.” Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears before finally meeting the boy’s gaze. The look he was giving her made her knees weak, and she found herself wanting to spill all of the contents in her heart to him.

He studied her face for a moment longer, but then Fred was calling his name and they both knew it was time. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and pulled her into a hug one last time, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Nothing further needed to be said, so he gently ruffled up her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before turning back towards Fred and beginning to walk away.

The moment was ending, he was really leaving, and she hadn’t told him how she felt. Her heartbeat started to pick up, and her palms began to feel sweaty, because it felt as though it were now or never. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

“George!” She called out, causing him to halt and whirl back around.

“Yeah?” He smiled warmly at her, a few paces ahead.

As she gazed into his blissfully unaware chocolate brown eyes, she found that she just couldn’t. She couldn’t drop this on him, not on one of the most important days of his life. So, she bit down on her lip before shaking her head and forcing a smile.

“Give us a show, yeah?”

“Always do.” George winked.

And just like that, he walked away. And Y/N was left feeling entirely empty.

First thought when I wake up

Is “My God, he’s beautiful.”

So I put on my make-up

And pray for a miracle

Months had passed since the fateful day that the Weasley twins left Hogwarts behind. Just as Y/N had predicted, her time left at the school dragged on horribly. Umbridge only seemed to get worse, even in the twins’ absence, and George was no longer there to comfort her. Still, she pushed through.

After graduation, Y/N was quick to get a job at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, figuring she’d save up her money while she determined what she wanted to do. It wasn’t the worst job, but with the Wizarding World getting darker by the day, she felt constantly in fear. Still, George was close by, and she once again had him for comfort. 

Most nights she’d crash on the twins’ couch, finding it easier to get up in the early mornings and go in to work than staying with her parents in the suburbs. Which usually meant waking up to George preparing breakfast, sleep thick in his voice and his hair still messy. And Godric, was he beautiful like that.

“Sleep well, darling?” George rasped out, a sleepy smile on his face. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as a small yawn left her lips.

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, leaning in the doorway of their kitchen. “You?”

“Pretty good.” George grinned, sliding a mug of tea down the counter towards her. Like always, he had made it perfectly to her liking. Y/N cupped the mug in her hands, letting the warmth slowly spread throughout her body and wake her up. “Think I might stop by the cafe on my break, pick up some pastries and coffee.” Just as he finished his sentence, Fred tiredly stumbled into the kitchen.

“You can just say you want to come see me, Georgie.” Y/N teased.

“It’s not just you he wants to see.” Fred winked at the girl, causing her brows to furrow.

“Oi, shut it, Fred.” George glared at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you about his little crush?” Fred smirked, ignoring the daggers being shot his way. “Elizabeth, that girl that works with you. Georgie fancies her.”

Suddenly, even the mug in Y/N’s hand felt ice cold in her grasp. Quickly, she placed it back down on the counter, fearing she would drop it and let it shatter to the ground. A bit of hot tea sloshed out of the mug, scalding her hand and forcing her mind away from her breaking heart.

“Shit, are you okay?” George had already hurried towards her, but Y/N was quick to brush him off.

“‘m fine, I, uh, should just go get ready.”

Y/N didn’t give the boy’s time to question her change in demeanor, but rather quickly gathered her overnight bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She cast a silencing charm before slowly sliding down the wall, allowing herself to sob freely.

Just as she always knew, she’d never be what George wanted.

I could tell you his favorite color’s green

He loves to argue, oh, and it kills me

His sister’s beautiful, he has his father’s eyes,

And if you asked me if I love him

I’d lie

Y/N felt in a daze that entire day at work. She made drinks, rang customers up, and wiped down counters, but she was unable to think about anything other than the revelations of that morning. Of course, Elizabeth was the only other person working with her, and while she normally adored shifts with the girl, she couldn’t find it in herself to even crack a smile at her. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, of course, and she would never purposefully take it out on her, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to try that day.

When lunch time rolled around and Y/N knew George would be arriving soon, she busied herself with meaningless tasks, intent on avoiding him and saving her heart any extra heartbreak, at least for the time being. She offered him a small smile when he entered, then ultimately let Elizabeth take his order.

As they chatted, Y/N noted the way he lit up with every giggle he pulled from her lips, and she swore she could hear her heart shattering. When he finally left, coffee and pastries in hand, he called out a quick goodbye to Y/N, but she only offered a small nod in return.

“Godric, he’s charming.” Elizabeth sighed, coming to lean beside Y/N. “You two are friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Y/N didn’t look up from the sugar packets she was organizing, watching as her hands shook slightly.

“Well, tell me about him!” Elizabeth urged, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Is he seeing anyone?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, finally forcing herself to look up after finishing her task. “What do you want to know?”

As much as it killed her, she knew what she had to do. George deserved to be happy, and she was his best friend, so she had to help him get there. George would never want her the way she wanted him, and maybe seeing him with someone else would help her get over that fact.

“Anything. Everything.” Elizabeth beamed, her perfect smile on full display.

“Well…” Y/N sighed, gathering her thoughts. “He has a twin, Fred, and they run the joke shop that just opened down the way. He’s a middle child, sort of, I mean Fred is technically the middle child but that’s just because he was born a few minutes earlier. They’ve got three older brothers, then a younger brother and sister. His favorite colors green, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s orange because of his hair. Um, he was shit at potions, but I think that was just because he hated the professor, because really he’s a genius. Oh, and he’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, which I tell him all the time but cannot say in front of Fred. I don’t know, I guess he’s just about the best person I know, honestly.” Y/N sighed, finishing her rambling with a forced smile.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

“No, really I’m not. We’ve just been best friends forever.” Y/N laughed, the lie tumbling easily from her lips. 

Because that’s what she had to do, that’s what she’d always done. To keep George in her life, to make things easier, she kept her feelings close to her heart. And no matter how much it killed her, she would continue doing it. If that’s what it took to see George happy, that’s what she’d do. 

She’d lie.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair​ @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @mischiefisbeingmanaged​ @gcdricreads​ @destourtereaux​ @thisismysketchbook​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @evermoreweasley​ @amourtentiaa​ @lunalovecroft​ @sunshineandshadowss​

[outerbonks]

complicated [2] - jj maybank

here’s part two! please enjoy and tell me if i should keep it going!

summary: you’re a kook and JJ doesn’t like you at all. That’s what he wants everybody to believe anyway.

word count:+2k

warning(s): sad shit, mentions of abuse, swearing

taglist (open):  @danicarosaline​, @yeehaw87​, @sspidermanss​

PART ONE

It'd been a few days since the party at the boneyard and you were meeting up with the pogues soon as per JJ's request.

You’d hung out with them before but something felt off about this time, Kie had been texting you all morning making extra sure that you were coming.

She was never usually this concerned about if you'd be coming or not, it was usually just one message about a half hour before you were supposed to meet but today your phone was buzzing non-stop.

Kie 🌺✨: So ur coming today right?

You: ofc 💞 meeting at John B's place right?

Kie 🌺✨: Yes but wear something cute 👀

You: okayyyyy

You: why tho? 👀

Kie 🌺✨: For the group pics obviously 👀

You: sounds fake but ok bby 😌✨ I'll dress cute... only for you tho 😉

Kie 🌺✨: that's why you're my girl 😘 

Kie 🌺✨: okay I've gtg do some stuff but I love you

You: love you too 💞

Kie 🌺✨: John B's at 1pm

You: I've got it, see you then

She was definitely up to something, you could tell, she never cared how you dressed especially not when all you were doing was meeting up with her friends.

Deciding not to worry about it, you threw your phone onto your bed and started to get ready.

Settling on your favourite white crop top, the one with a daisy embroidered in the middle you pulled it on along with a pair of denim shorts and your white converse, that had become dirty from the amount of wear and tear they'd been through since you got them.

The posing you were doing in front of your mirror was interrupted by your phone chiming yet again.

JJ Maybank: Hi. 

JJ Maybank: Kie gave me ur number

JJ Maybank: She told me to ask u to bring snacks

You: Sure I'll stop by the store on my way

You: Any preference?

JJ Maybank: Whatever is fine with me princess

You: Alright I'll see what I can do

JJ Maybank: Wait get chips

You: What's the magic word? 🥺

JJ Maybank: Are u really gonna make me do this princess?

You: I mean if you want ur chips 👀

JJ Maybank: Remember when I told you I didn't hate you? I take it back

You: Then starve 😌🥰

JJ Maybank: Fine. Pretty please will you pick up some chips

You: Why of course I will since you asked ever so nicely!! 🧚🌺✨💫💞

JJ Maybank: You suck

Laughing at his response you grabbed your purse and left your house, making your way to the store.

You couldn't lie, you enjoyed messing with JJ. Now that you had his number you had a feeling that the two of you were going to be annoying each other on a whole other level now.

When you arrived at the store you made sure to stock up on snacks, buying extra chips as an attempt to ensure today stays peaceful between you and JJ.

Soon enough you found yourself at John B's front door, knocking on the frame gently.

Kie answered the door with a bright smile, giving you a hug before pulling you inside.

"Did you bring snacks?" Was the first thing you heard as Kie ushered you into the chateau. You let out an airy laugh and held up the plastic bag in your hand for JJ to see, "As promised."

"Great! Both of you go sit down." Kie instructed and you obliged, sitting down on John B's couch and placing the bag of snacks in-between yourself and JJ who immediately started rummaging through the bag, you watched intently as he pulled out a bag of chips with a big smile on his face, "These are my favorite!"

Nodding your head at the boy you looked at him with a mockingly parental look, trying your best to hide the smirk forming on your lips, "That's what happens when you say please, sweetheart."

 JJ scoffed before looking around the room in confusion, "Where'd the others go?"

Neither of you had noticed Kie and John B sneak out the front door and realization washed over the both of you as you heard the engine of John B's van running.

The pair of you scurried out to the porch, watching as the van moved away and Kie stuck her head out the window, "We're going to get beer, we'll probably be a while! You two should talk while we're gone! Bye!" She shouted before John B hit the gas and the van sped off.

Sighing you looked at JJ with an unimpressed expression, "Guess we're talking then."

"Seems like it." The boy muttered crankily, following you into the house.

Spending time with you meant getting to know you and getting to know you would eventually lead to falling for you. JJ couldn't let that happen. But he had no choice, he'd rather talk to you than spend hours in silence waiting for his friends to return.

"Do you wanna play 20 questions?" You asked, breaking the awkward silence that has settled over the both of your once you returned to your seats on the couch.

JJ let out a huff, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, "What are we? Twelve?"

Letting out a scoff you couldn't help but roll your eyes, "You sure do act like it."

"Fine. You ask first." He sighed, sinking into the couch and digging into the chips you'd brought.

"Alright, start off easy… What's your favorite hobby?" The blond boy beside you shook his head and leaned his elbows on his knees, turning his head to look at you, "Surfing. My turn. What did you mean the other night when you asked me what age you were when it all started going wrong?" He fired, the question had been locked and loaded in his mind since the night at the boneyard. 

"It's kind of a bummer, you sure you wanna get into it?" You questioned, catching your lip between your teeth.

The boy only nodded, staring at you expectantly, "Well, when I was thirteen my mom got really sick, she's been in and out of hospitals on the mainland for the past three years, my dads never left her side so I don't see much of either of them anymore. She's in some private hospital on the mainland right now, we're pretty sure she won't be getting out again." You explained numb to the situation, it'd been three years of you pretty much raising yourself, your dad kept up with the bills and put money into your credit card but he hadn't actually been home with you unless your mom was healthy enough to be there too, but she hadn't been home in the last year which meant neither had he.

"Shit…" JJ murmured, looking at you sympathetically to which you shook your head at him and gave him a tight smile. You really didn't want anyone's sympathy.

"It's fine. But I guess to give you an answer to the question, everything started going wrong when I was thirteen." You added on casually as if you hadn't just opened up about your dying mother seconds earlier.

"My turn." You stated, keeping eye contact and asking, "Why don't you want to get close to me?"

His little speech the other night had left an impact on you, you wanted to know what was so bad about you that made befriending you so awful. 

JJ sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders, "It's complicated, I've got a reputation here on the cut y'know? And you've got yours on figure eight. We just shouldn't mix." 

You didn't bother trying to hide your confused expression, you both knew that that was bullshit.

"Maybe we shouldn't. But since when have you ever gone by the rules of society?" You piqued up.

"Hey it's not your turn anymore, you already asked your question." He butted in, throwing a chip at you.

"Fine, you go but we're getting back to that one." You warned him, making him chuckle in response.

"After you asked me when things started going wrong, you said something else…" JJ threaded carefully, having a sinking feeling that he knew what you meant by the question in the first place but the curiosity was killing him.

You nodded patiently waiting for him to continue, you knew what he was about to ask and you mentally prepared yourself to give him an answer.

"So… why can't you wear dresses to parties?" He finished, his voice gentle but his eyebrow raised.

Swallowing thickly you fidgeted with the hem of your crop top, "Last year at a kook party-" You started, shifting your eyes away from JJ's, focusing on your legs instead, "-One of Rafe Cameron's friend's, he was a senior and I had just finished freshman year, well anyway I was wearing this cute little dress and he told me he really liked it so we started hanging out and the next thing you know he was kissing me and that was all good and fine, it was really great actually." You retold to JJ, pausing for a second to glance at his eyes that were looking at you intently, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Heaving out a heavy sigh you ran a hand through your hair before finishing the story, "But then his hands were all over me and I didn't really know how to feel, yanno? I was a virgin and I'd never had a guy be into me like that so I let him go on. Until he literally tore my dress right off me and I knew then that I definitely wasn't ready for what he wanted. So I told him to stop and he flipped out on me, called me a tease and a slut and told me that if I didn't want to be fucked then I shouldn't have dressed like it. And that is why I can no longer wear dresses to parties." 

You couldn't figure out the look on the boys face, it was an expression that was a mixture between anger and sadness and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

"Who was the guy?" He inquired, his voice dangerously calm.

The story made him angry, he hated when guys thought they could just take advantage of people, he couldn't lie and say that it didn't especially bother him that it had happened to you.

You just shrugged again, "Doesn't matter. Pretty sure he moved to the mainland for college." You explained seemingly unbothered, the same way you had been after answering the last question and JJ wasn't having any of it.

"It does matter though, why do you do that?" He wondered out loud, scooting closer to you on the couch while you avoided eye contact.

"Because JJ, if I start acting like it's a big deal it's going to become a big deal and I don't want a fuss over something that happened to me in the past while other people have bigger things to worry about." The blond beside you nodded in understanding at your statement, he got that, he felt the exact same way and he realized that the pair of you were a lot more alike than he thought.

"Just don't tell Kie or John B okay? I'm only telling you because I let it slip at the boneyard, you're the only one that knows." You whispered, finally meeting his blue eyes.

He nodded with furrowed brows, "Secrets safe with me, princess."

Giving him a tight smile you spoke up again trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere, "If you weren't so stubborn I think you and I would be really great friends."

JJ laughed, taking off his red cap and running his hand through his hair before placing the cap back on his head, "You know what you're probably right-" The boy let out and exaggerated sigh before going on, "Screw it. We're friends now, princess." He stated with so much authority that you had to laugh.

"Wow and all it took was my tragic origin story? If only I’d known sooner." You said sarcastically, shoving his shoulder with your own.

JJ laughed and so did you, it was so strange, if someone had told you a week ago that you'd be playing a way too personal game of 20 questions with JJ Maybank you would've laughed in their face and asked if they were stoned. But it felt oddly comfortable in the moment.

The giggling was hushed by your phone buzzing with a message from Kie.

Kie 🌺✨: We're on our way back 

"They're coming back." You turned your head to face JJ who was smirking mischievously, "Should we fuck with them?" He asked you while scooting closer to you and looking at your phone screen.

"Oh absolutely, here." You agreed handing him your phone watching as he began to text Kie.

You: Take ur time  😉

Kie 🌺✨: What's with the winky face?

You: No reason 👀

Kie 🌺✨: omg Y/n what happened? 😳

"What should we tell her?" JJ snickered and you gasped excitedly, "Oh my God, tell her that we "bonded" but put a bunch of sex emojis after it."

"Brilliant." He commented under his breath as he began typing again.

You: Oh nothing, me and JJ just did some bonding 😌🥵👅🍆💦

Kie 🌺✨: Oh god please tell me you didn't…

Laughing at her response, you snatched the phone back from JJ, leaning close to him so he could still watch the screen and started typing, unable to contain your laughter.

You: Oh yeah, we bonded reeeeeaaaallll good. Right here on John B's couch 😜

"They're gonna be real smug about this working." JJ chimed in and you nodded in agreement.

"True. But I'm kinda glad it did." You confessed almost shyly, not trying to inflate his ego.

To your surprise JJ nodded in agreement, "Yeah you're not so bad after all. But we gotta keep this low-key, I don't want the other guys on The Cut thinking I'm a kook sympathizer." He muttered dramatically with a grin.

"Oh of course not, stays between us and the pogues." You stated with a grin to match his.

The boy reached a closed fist towards you, "Truce?" He offered up hopefully.

"Truce." You told him, bumping your fist to his gently with a smile.

Things had always been complicated between yourself and JJ but you had a feeling that it was only going to get messier from here.

part 3

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

Hell

Yannoe that incorrect quote that’s like, I would f//ck a demon cuz of status, when your stroll into hell and everyone else is panicking but your sugar daddy’s just there?

Well that’s what this fic is lmao 

Hitoshi Shinso x reader

Demon!Shinso who doesn’t go to UA

Genre : fluff, comedy possibly  

Warnings : swearing, hell(?)

Words : 2,316

Masterlist

A/N : it’s a very stereotypical hell, apologies lmao 

this is also a very ooc shinso cuz i’ve never written for him b4

Hope you enjoy!

The events following your classes’ arrival to the rescue centre were certainly a mess. One moment Thirteen had been explaining about them self and their quirk, and the next a vast mass of villains had shown up. A mass of purple clouds had swallowed all of you up whole and scattered you across the centre, leaving you with the weaker villains. 

Well that was what was supposed to happen. Instead, you had drop onto a one way staircase of marble, surrounded by rivers and waterfalls of lava.

“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?” someone curses out. You turn to see Bakugou taking off a piece of his costume, sweat already dripping down the side of his face. 

“Are we still in the rescue centre?” a certain red hair asks, deactivating his quirk that he had unconsciously started using when he was sucked into the warp.  

Before you can even get a word in, a small, cute imp pops up out of nowhere, a small trident in it’s hands. “Welcome to hell!” it cheers, a large grin on it’s face as it’s wings beat the hot air around, turning around to look at you. “Welcome back Lady Y/N, it’s been a while since we last saw you.” 

You hum in response, booping the small creature. “I must say I didn’t recognise it here, must’ve changed a lot.”

“It knows you?” Kirishima asks. You nod, not bothering to elaborate more as the imp answers your question.

“Not at all mistress.” it responds, flying around before settling on Kirishima’s shoulder, the said boy tensing up almost immediately before softly rubbing the imp’s cheek. “You simply hadn’t seen the outside of the castle.”

“Sorry to break up your little reunion.” Bakuogu snorts, stomping up to Kirishima and grabbing the imp by it’s tail. “but how the fuck can we get out of this shit hole?” 

“Well that’s not very nice.” it chides, stabbing him in the hand with the point of the tail before flying to settle on your head. “You can leave if master allows it.” it continues, ignoring Bakugou’s hisses and threats towards it.

“Well shall we go then?” Kirishima suggests, to which you agree. “Come on Bakubro, stop being a wimp.” 

“Who the fuck are you calling a wimp huh?” 

You ignore the boys, beginning to climb the stairs. The stair case seems endless, one step followed by a thousand more. 

“Why the fuck are there so many stairs?” Bakugou shouts, rubbing his forehead with his arm.

“Because it’s long and tortuous.” the imp laughs, sticking it’s tongue out at Bakugou to which he responds with another curse. 

“Would you like me to teleport you mistress?” it asks.

“Does that offer include the boys?” you ask, not bothering to turn around and look at them.

“No it doesn’t”

“What why not?” Kirishima asks. “That’s not very fair.” 

You can hear the pout in his voice. “Then I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

“Y/N you bitch, don’t you dare leave us- HEY! Come back here now!”

By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already gone.

“Bro she just left us.” Kirishima complains, but he’s drowned out by Bakugou’s ear piecing screams of anger. 

He sighs and shakes his head, continuing the steps up.

After what seems to feel like hours, they finally reach a massive gateway, It opens up to another set of stairs, this time the temperature much cooler than before and the stairs seem to be made out of pure gold, decorated with velvet trails of red. 

“This way!” the imp calls out, reappearing in mid air.

“You little shit-” Bakugou calls out, leaping into the air to grab it, but it simply flies away, leaving him to fall clumsily onto his feet. 

Kirishima follows along, pulling Bakugou by the arm, making sure he didn’t stomp off like a child. 

After a few twisty corridors, then find themselves in a massive hall, the ceiling held up with columns of red and gold, a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the centre. Painting and tapestry littered the baroque architecture and near the back of the hall sat a massive throne, one that could probably fit at least a dozen people.

The boys look to see you sat across someone’s lap, you head against their shoulder as they fed you grapes. 

“Oh, look who finally made it.” you smile, giving Bakugou a wink as you see literal steam emitting from his ears.

He starts scowling at you but Kirishima simply laughs. “So Y/N are you gonna explain anything or?”

“This is Hitoshi!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smiles adoringly at you. “He’s the demon king of hell.” you nod approvingly at your introduction, whereas it only brought more questions to his friends.  

“And you know him because...” Kirishima starts, trying to get you to continue explaining your story. 

“Oh, he’s like... hmm.” You pause, trying to look for a good term to label your relationship as. You had accidentally stumbled across summoning the demon when you tried to combine your quirk which witchcraft, which led the latter to become infatuated with you, the first human who had even summoned him in his thousands of years alive. 

Your room had began to fill with smoke and now matter your use of quirk or fanning air through the window, the wouldn’t seem to disappear. That’s when you realised the mass of black forming in the centre of the smoke. 

You shrieked and climbed out of the window, jumping down rather ungracefully before sprinting down the road. Your parents were at work so there was no point in staying in the house. 

As you turned the corner, you bumped into someone, falling backwards. They stepped forward and caught you by the waist, lifting you up to meet a gorgeous purple haired man with deep sunken eyes and a Cheshire grin.

“Um thanks.” you quickly said, stepping away and getting ready to run away again when he spoke.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

“I think there’s someone in my house.” you said, your adrenaline now leaving you with the fear. 

“Oh that was me.” he replied curtly, giving you a grin as he watched your face morph into fear, and then quickly anger. 

You raised you leg, kicking him directly in the nuts. 

“Bro I could’ve been changing on something.” you threw your hands up in the air. “Who gave you the right to just waltz into my house.”

“Um you actually.” he spluttered, squatting down on the floor as he struggled to regain his composure. He was the demon king for fuck’s sake and not only had some mere human ran away after summoning him but then they proceeded to kick him in the balls. The audacity!

“What?”

“You summoned me.” he glared.

You pursed your lips. “How?”

“How am I supposed to know?” he retorted. “No one’s done that before.”

You stared down at him, inching your face closer and studying his features. “Can I return you?”

“What the fuck?” He raised his head abruptly, head butting you as you stumbled back a few steps.

“What?” you shouted, rubbing your sore forehead as he stood up again. “I didn’t try and summon you, it was an accident.”

“Well I can’t go back until you make a deal with me.” the man sighed, placing his arms on his hips. 

“Yeah no.” you replied almost instantly, turning on your heel and leaving. If he was telling the truth and was indeed the one in your room, then you could go home with no worry. 

“Hey, don’t ignore me you human!” he shouted, catching up with you and walking next to you.

“Can’t you like, I don’t know, leave me alone?” you asked desperately. 

“No. You have to make a contract with any demon that you summon within 7 days or your soul will be taken.”

“Uh huh.” you nodded. “Can I make a deal with you to leave me alone?”

“Technically yes, but you’ll also need to pay a price.”

“Oh my fucking god.” you screamed, banging you head against your front door. “What’s the price then?”

“Hmm I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one spewing this nonsense about a contract.”

“Oh, it’s just I get to choose the price. I’m not too sure what I want from you yet.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to underneath your window before boosting yourself up with you quirk, perching on the window sill as you stared down at him.

“You’re cute. But also fucking insane bro.” you commented, stepping into your room and closing the window.

“Well that wasn’t very nice.” he said, reappearing in your room. 

You screeched, jumping back. “Bro please leave me alone.” you begged, sitting down defeated on your bed with your head in your hands. 

“Nope. I’ve decided.”

“What will it be?” you asked uninterested, deciding that you’re fate had been sealed already. You were going to die anyways, why not go by a hot demon.

“You’ll be my friend.” 

“What the fuck no.”

“I do admit that I’m rather a lonesome person, I could perhaps do with some of your...” he looked you up and down before finishing, “presence.”

You snorted. “Don’t you have any demon friends?”

“The king has no friends.” he replied simply.

“And you’re like the king?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“No darling, I am the king.” 

“He’s like my friend?” you question, looking at Shinso for an answer. He simply shrugs with a smile before holding up another grape for you. 

“Friends?” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t see you cuddling up to all of your friends in the dorms.”

“Humph fine.” you pout. “Like sugar daddy? I don’t know, but you do give me a lot of things.”

“That’s simply because I like you.” Shinso replies, a soft smile on his lips. 

You respond with a large grin, sitting up to give me a kiss on the cheek whilst you hear Bakugou cough “Disgusting.” underneath his breath. 

“Can’t you like, keep Bakugou here and torture him endlessly?”

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules.”

“Or you could recruit him, since he’s a literal demon himself.”

Kirishima laughs at your comment, before asking “So how can we go back? Our friends might be in danger so we need to go back as soon as possible.” 

“Alrighty Hitoshi, can you teleport us back?” 

He responds with a hum before you find yourselves back in the centre. 

You look around to see Kirishima and Bakugou getting up from the floor, Bakugou shouting about how he didn’t need to have dropped them from such a high place. He stops when he sees the Nomu, it’s foot perched upon your teacher’s head. You start to run to him when you realise Shinso is flying mid air, still holding you in his arms. 

“Hey, how strong are you?” you ask.

“Pretty strong I’d say. Why?”

“Do you think you could blow that muscle bird away. It’s kinda ugly.” you comment, pointing at the Nomu. “But like, keep the human underneath it, I kinda need him stil alive.”

“Your wish is my command.” he replies, before he flicks his wrist, the nomu being lifted high into the air and tossed to the side of the centre. 

“Holy shit.” a male voice shouts. “That bird is invincible, how did someone do that?”

You turn to see Mineta shouting by the side of the water zone, your lips curling in digust. “Ew gross.”

“Would you like me to get rid of him?”

“Maybe another day.” you reply. 

The doors suddenly burst open to reveal All Might, standing there in all of his muscly glory. 

He begins to fight with the Nomu as you lean back in Shinso’s chest. 

“So like, could you get his body off the playing field?” you ask, pointing at Aizawa.

Shinso hums in response, lifting Aizawa’s body and following it toward the exit of the centre. 

“Hey Tsuyu, could you take him?” you shout and she nods quickly, wrapping her tongue around his and pulling him towards the ambulances outside. 

“Alrighty, how about we wrap things up.”

Shinso hands you a magical gun and you enhance it with your quirk. With one beat of his wings, you two gets proceeding closer to the nomu, before you shoot it’s expose brain. It halts momentarily, unable to regenerate too quickly, and the perfect opening in created, All Might landing a punch and sending it flying off, out of the centre’s roof. 

“Well that was fun.”

“I don’t think we can say the same for your friends.”

You look over to see a few of your classmates very ruffled up, buts and bruises littering them. “Oof.”

“Should I put you down?” 

“Nah, you’re comfy.”

Bonus : 

“Y/N, are you going to see your demon boyfriend any time soon?” Kirishima calls out in the living room of the dooms.

“Demon boyfriend?” Uraraka pipes up, catching the interest of many classmates. 

“Hmm?” you hum in response, looking up from your phone. “Maybe when I feel like it, why?”

“Well I heard there’s a special type of crocodile skin in the demon realm where it’s unbreakable and I was wondering if I could reference it for my quirk or costume?”

You nod in response. “Sure thing, I can give him a call.”

“Um no you won’t.” Uraraka cuts in. “You are going to tell him to come here because I want to see your boyfriend.”

“Um why though?”

“Because we’re best friends and you didn’t even think to tell me you were dating someone?” she pouts and you instantly feel bad. 

“Sorry sorry Ochako. Sure.” you quickly reply. 

“No you are not inviting that bastard over.” Bakugou shouts from the kitchen. 

“Well more of a reason to invite him I guess.” you laugh. 

[mhdiaries]

13 Wishes Howleen Wolf Diary

On the 18th of July

Mom barked me out of bed this morning saying that I needed to get out of her fur for a few hours. It was that or help her with housework, and since yesterday I spent all day sweeping the attic.... sooo much dust!... I was out of the doggie-door before she could say boo. It’s hard not to feel screeching jealous of Clawd and Clawdeen, cause they always seem to be busy during the summer while I’m stuck at home playing cobweb cleanup. It’s tough being the little sister of two of the most popular monsters on campus - Clawdeen has her pack of friends, and Clawd has his bluddies and Draculaura, too. Meanwhile I texted my beast friend, Twyla, to see if she wanted to come lurk in the park with me today, but she can be pretty nocturnal. Not that I mind moonlighting with her, but sometimes a ghoul wants to get out in the sun, yanno? I took my soccer ball and got some solo practice in, but it’s just not as clawsome by yourself... it made me feel kind of lame, actually. I did see Venus sitting by the trees at on end of the park, but it seemed like she was having a really intense conversation with the oaks and I didn’t want to interrupt. I like Venus, but you have to watch out for her when she’s on the environmental warpath, or she’ll totally talk your ear off. Anyway, after a little while I got distracted listening... okay, eavesdropping... on her (who knew trees had so much drama?) and kicked the ball onto the casketball court where some older monsters were playing. They got fangry, and I wound up packing up and going home with my tail between my legs. Now I wish I’d ignored them and kept playing, cause now I’m bored again. Sooo. Boooored. I’d even listen to Venus lecture me about the dangers of styrofoam... at least it would be something to do!

On the 23rd of July

It’s hard not to feel funky when everyone besides me has things figured out for themselves. Clawdeen has fashion and Clawd has sports, and they both seem to just know what they want. Mom and Dad say I shouldn’t compare myself to them, or anyone else, but that’s such parent advice that I don’t feel like it should count. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know what I want to do... well, okay, it IS that, but it’s also that I want to do everything?? Like, once I spent two weeks trying to make a viral video for FrightTube. Then the week after that I decided that it was totally my destiny to be a superstar singer. Then three weeks later I was totally focused on my future as a Howlympian athlete! And I haven’t stopped wanting to do any of that stuff, but it’s too hard to do it all, and impossible to pick only one, especially cause I don’t know what I’m really good at yet. I feel like I’m getting to a point where I choose or I lose. I mean, what if I discover my hidden talents too late to do anything with them? It’d be so, so tragic. That’s why I’ve been trying so much different stuff this year - music lessons, dance class, everything I can get my claws on. Something will click sooner or later, right?

On the 29th of July

Today I heard... okay maybe eavesdropped on... Draculaura telling Clawd about a big open mic poetry scream going on at the Coffin Bean at the end of the summer. I went on their web site page to check it out, and now I think I might want to try it out, too? I mean I’ve written some poetry, and I’m always accidentally rhyming all the time. And my hip-hop dance classes have totally infused me with the muse... see what I mean? Yeah... I think I want to do this! But I gotta text Twyla and see if she’ll come out for moral support. It’s at night, and the Coffin Bean is usually pretty dark, so she’ll have no excuse not to come - besides, she loves their cupquakes.

On the 30th of July

I finally talked Twyla into going to the Maul with me. If you let her she’d probably stay in the shadows all summer, but lucky for her I won’t let lurking boogiemen lie! We went to the fur salon, and I picked out some new colors for my ‘do - I’ve been letting it go natural lately, but that doesn’t stop me from switching up my style all the time. I wound up buying like five different colors because I couldn’t decide on just one. After that we split a big booberry smoothie at the food corpse and we talked for a long while. Well... mostly I talked, Twy listened, because she’s a clawsome listener. She let me howl about how was I supposed to pick what I wanted to do with the rest of my life if I couldn’t even pick a hair color? I asked her what she thought I should do, and she got this really freaky intense look, like she was thinking hard, and then she flicked my ear and said, “I think what you really want to do is plan out your whole life before you live it, and you can’t do that, so stop stressing out.” Which is both good advice and totally useless because you can’t stop stressing out just because you want to, like, when has that ever worked in all monster history? But I do feel better, somehow. I think it helped to just talk about it to someone who gets me and doesn’t laugh when I say dumb stuff. She also agreed to come cheer me on at the poetry scream. There’s a reason Twyla is my beastie. =)

On the 10th of August

Clawd and Clawdeen actually weren’t busy today for once. Even though they’re a pain in the fang, hanging with them can still be scary-fun. Sometimes. Clawd talked us into playing a pick-up soccer game in the backyard, and Clawdeen didn’t even get growly when she fell into one of the holes Clawd made along the fence... he likes to bury things in the dirt and dig them up later. I think it’s a boy thing. We’ve all got game, and later we did get into an argument about who had the most points - we’d said we weren’t keeping score, but no duh, of course we all were! But no one got their fur in a frizz about it for a change. After a while we were making up the biggest number we could think of and howling with laughter. Dad said later he almost didn’t want to call us inside for dinner because he loves seeing us act like one big happy pack. I think he misses when all my even bigger brothers and sisters were still at home... Mom teases that he’s got empty den syndrome. I miss my older brothers and sisters sometimes, too, but they aren’t that far away. (Plus, not that they’ve moved out, the wait for the bathroom is a LOT shorter.)

On the 13th of August

I think I’m getting cold paws. The poetry scream is in just a few days, and my brain has been going all over the place since I said I’d go. What if I get stage fright? What if I totally blank and forget the whole poem? What if I’m not even that good? ...Ugh, okay, I texted Twyla, and she convinced me not to give up the ghost. Plus she pointed out that since it’s open mic, I can always just show up and decided if I want to go ahead with it when I get there. Sometimes I wish I could borrow Clawdeen’s confidence, not just her clothes... she never seems scared of anything.

On the 18th of August

Whoa, I’m still shaking. The Coffin Bean was WAY more packed than I thought it would be. There had to be dozens of monsters there, and I was a total casket case even with my beastie at my side until I ran into Clawd and Draculaura. I sort of hadn’t told them I’d be there, so they were scary surprised to see me. And then they found out I was sort of thinking about maybe performing, they wouldn’t let me get away with not doing it. So I signed up and waited for my turn, even though I was so howling nervous I could barely hear the poets on before me, and then it was my turn. I was so wound up that my eyes were practically crossing with fright, but I saw my bro and Draculaura waving from the audience, and Twy giving me the claws-up, I sucked it up and read my poem. I had it memorized and gave it everything I had, and the monsters in the crowd really seemed to dig it. I didn’t like completely bring the house down, but when even the zombies slow-clapped at the end and Clawd whooped for me it felt just little bit epic. Then Draculaura when on with this mega-romantic and sweet poem and she had the whole audience wailing like banshees. Even I got a little teary-eyed, and Clawd was whimpering into his coffinchino... he made me promise not to tell anyone lol. Of course she won first place for the night - not that I’m moaning. She totally deserved it, and I came i third, which made me feel pretty clawsome about the whole thing. Even Clawd was patting me on the back and bragging that I was his little sis to anyone who’d listen... which was embarrassing, but whatever, kind of nice too. =) I gave Twyla the biggest hug for staying with me, too, especially since crowds are one of her fangups. I have to say, I really liked tackling my fears... it makes me think maybe I’m ready for a whole new me next year! Watch out, Monster High!

[bondsmagii]

2, 8, 26, 37, 38, 57, 72, 91, 94, 100

> questions to ask at 4:02am meme 🌕🌃

thank you! 

2: Do you mourn for a place or person you’ve never known?

yes 😩 I can’t even adequately describe what’s going on here, but there’s a lot of people and a lot of places that feel familiar even if I don’t know them, if that makes sense? and there’s also a lot of people I could have become, and a lot of places I could have been, and I do have moments where I kind of mourn them even though I have no proof that they would have even existed in that specific way. I do think this is normal to an extent, but also I do this a lot, lol.

on a slightly less philosophical level, I of course mourn my older brother, who’s quite literally a person I never got the chance to know.

8: Do you think you can put love into categories (family, platonic, romantic, etc.) or is it just one general sensation?

oh man definitely. the love you feel for your friends isn’t the same love you feel for your spouse or your parents, and so on and so forth. there’s lots of different kinds of love, and lots of different levels within those types, and you’re also more than capable of feeling several different types and levels towards the same person, in my opinion. I don’t know if I would try and categorise everything, because something like love doesn’t really suit being shoved into boxes, but there are different types of love and I find it’s constantly shifting and changing along with you and the object of your love, which is cool.

I should add that I don’t find any one type of love more or less important than the others. seriously, destroy the idea that romantic love is the One True Love, and all other forms are somehow lesser. that’s just garbage.

26: What’s the most life-changing choice you’ve made so far?

this is kind of embarrassing but the truth often is: almost eight years ago I decided to make a sideblog on here that has... something to do with writing, let’s say, and something to do with... a certain character... and anyway that decision led to me meeting a certain person and going from awkward messages on Tumblr to awkward messages on Skype, to eighteen hour conversations and constant texting, to living in a car together for three months on a roadtrip and then living in a car together for many more months while homeless (and a million other places in between), to moving in together and then holy shit we got married.

so I guess that one impulsive decision to make a shitpost sideblog at stupid o’clock in the morning when I was bored one summer has been the single most life-changing choice I’ve ever made.

37: Do opposites attract?

eh. I mean, yeah, sometimes? but similarities attract, too. I think for any kind of relationship to be successful you’ve kind of got to have an element of both, and I think that “opposites” usually refers to something very specific. for example, I don’t mind cleaning the bathroom and you hate it. that’s a useful kind of opposite, because it means a compromise neither of us feel cheated by. you’re unshakable when it comes to slogging through bureaucratic minutiae, and I’m a beast in high-stress quick-thinking scenarios. together we make a pretty unstoppable team, for being opposites in that regard. I think that’s kind of what’s meant by this saying, but unfortunately it seems to have been appropriated to mean “yes honey, I know you work 10 hour shifts and come home to find your partner hasn’t cleaned the house or done anything to help, but opposites attract!” or “my partner supports Trump and genuinely believes that vaccines and masks are a government conspiracy to control us all, and I am a normal human being, but opposites attract so I guess I’ll have to put up with it”. like no, kings and queens. that isn’t what it means. dump them.

38: Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

lmao no. not in the slightest. five years ago it would have been... just into 2016, and yeah, no. there is not a single thing about me right now that I would have predicted, aside from the general stuff that’s never changed about me. I had different ideas about what I would be doing for work, about what I’d be working towards; I had completely different levels of commitment and discipline to various tasks, and I certainly wasn’t planning an international move. I can at least say that I’m happier with my current plan than the one I used to have (it wasn’t a bad plan, it just no longer suits me) but there’s no way I would have expected this.

and of course, there’s the whole issue with the pandemic. five years ago I had no idea I would be living through a global natural disaster, and if you’d told me, I would have thought it would be something like a supervolcano eruption or a nuclear winter. like, I’m glad it’s not, but also “you have to stay in your house for over a year” still kind of sucks.

57: Do you thinks humans are obsessed with escapism (books, video games, movies, etc.)? Are you looking for an escape? Do you think that’s a bad thing?

I think we are sometimes, when things are tough and there’s a need to wish to escape (see how many books I read over quarantine in March, for example). most of the time, however, I think humans just like stories. I don’t think it’s any deeper than the fact that humans love stories, we’ve always loved stories, we’ve always loved telling and hearing stories, before we had books and archives we passed our stories down orally and we drew them on cave walls with our own fingers, and this love for the story has never changed or altered in the hundreds of thousands of years since. I think that’s the major driving force here.

right now I’m looking for an escape 24/7, because I’m sick to death of the real world. I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all. without books, without the fictional things I love, without reading and writing and music, I would have gone absolutely bonkers in 2020. being able to fall into a book or play around in the worlds I’ve created, both my own and things I’ve co-written with you, has literally saved my ass over the past eight months. escapism is never a bad thing. like anything, it only becomes troubling when it starts creating problems. but I do not think there’s any shame in occasionally saying “fuck it” and going to worry about someone else’s fictional problems for a while. 

72: Should people be prosecuted for crimes that weren’t considered crimes at the time?

this is a tough one. on the one hand I want to say no, because it could easily be abused. some asshole could get into power and make something illegal, and then round up all the people who have committed that now-crime and lock them up, and oh, would you look at that! all the people who have committed the now-crime just so happen to be the dictator’s biggest critics and threats, how convenient. 

at the same time, dictators are going to wipe out their enemies no matter how legal it is, and I also have to consider the fact that before WWII, for example, words like “genocide” and “crimes against humanity” didn’t exist. how could we decide that these things are crimes, but then not try those who literally gave cause for the crime to be acknowledged? we can hardly say “alright, genocide is now a crime against humanity, but because these guys did it before this was law they can’t be tried”. that’s just... not really a great precedent to set, you know?

so I suppose a tentative yes? I think it would probably depend entirely on the severity of the crime. for example, if they found out that... I don’t know, some normal everyday substance was something that people could suddenly get high off, and they declared it a drug, I don’t think everyone who’s ever sold it or used it should be rounded up and jailed. but like, if the act of cannibalism itself became a crime (and not just murder or desecration of a corpse, which is what “cannibalism” usually falls under in terms of legality) we should probably go round up all the people who are stealing human legs to eat, yanno?

91: Is hate as strong as love? Who do you hate?

sick totheark reference bro. anyway yeah, hate is as strong as love, though it appears and reacts in different ways. hate and love are two sides of the same coin, if you ask me. the deeper you love somebody, the harder you hate them if things go wrong. hate is betrayed love. something something, a tree’s branches cannot reach to heaven unless its roots reach to hell, and all that. something so powerful is going to leave a lot of damage if it goes wrong.

I hate a few people. I don’t want to go into detail as to their specific identities, because I’m sure that if you know me well, you’ll know who they are. both of them were people whom I loved very deeply, and who betrayed that love in ferociously cruel ways. both people taught me very difficult lessons about the nature of love, and how sometimes it really cannot conquer everything, but while this would be a nasty lesson to learn it’s compounded by the fact that I learned this not out of any kind of extraneous circumstance, but rather through their cruelty and their refusal to work with me, listen to me, or love me in the way I deserved to be loved. my hatred for these people will never go away, even though it certainly doesn’t dominate my life. it is there, though, and I can easily draw on it whenever I need it. should I get the opportunity, I have no doubt in my mind that I have the capacity to be very cruel to these people in my own right, and I won’t feel bad about it.

94: How would you describe yourself when you love? Do you love forcefully, unconditionally, gently, quietly, desperately?

oh damn. forcefully, conditionally, stubbornly, and probably slightly possessively.

I don’t show love in conventional means. I’m one of those stereotypes, I guess. I don’t like declarations of love, I don’t really go in for physical affection, and I’m not sappy at all. my love language is more subtle, but it’s there. I like to do things for people, I like to create things for/with people, I like to have adventures with people. that’s how I love, and I can be pretty forceful about it. I also want people to improve themselves as much as possible -- I think the greatest thing I can witness someone I love doing is becoming the best version of themselves, and I will support them 100% in this effort -- also very forcefully. I don’t think there are many people who could put up with that level of intensity for so long, if I’m honest. I demand a lot of the ones I love, but I also like to think I give a lot, too.

my love is never unconditional. while I believe unconditional love exists, I have never seen it. my love always comes with conditions -- conditions about how I expect to be treated, about ideology, about worldview. these are all huge deal breakers, of course -- my conditions aren’t vague, or petty, or small in any way. but there is nobody on earth, nor will there ever be, who I will not walk away from if I feel the relationship is harmful in any way. I might not stop loving them, but I sure as hell will not assume that my love for them will protect me from them.

at the same time I’m a very stubborn person when it comes to love. people will do things they think must break one of my conditions, but I’ll see something else in it and I’ll stick around even if we both think it’s useless. I’m never wrong, so I suppose I have that going for me. but I am very, very stubborn when it comes to love. I have a high level of endurance and I know how to nurture love; how to stop pessimism from setting in. I’m also slightly possessive, so I don’t let go of anything easily -- and this includes the people I love. I’ll never stifle a person, but I’ll definitely fight for them, and something something everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

100: What belief do you have that isn’t logically grounded, but you still firmly believe in?

I suppose something like this could never be logically grounded because there’s no logical proof at all, and “I Just Know” is apparently not a scientific argument (it should be), but I know I’ve had past lives. I just do. I have no solid proof for this, only gut feelings and Just Knowing and weird memories and some crazy shit that I can’t explain -- like being able to find my way around a strange city because I remembered it from a past life, for example -- but I just know I’ve had many different lives before and I will have many more to come. this is just an unshakable belief and it always has been.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊24

days go by, another one comes across. however, today is that day, and by ‘that day’ i mean, can we all please have a drumroll, it’s fucking parent~teacher interviews! aka an interrogation under the guise of pleasantries. i thought if i didn’t think about it, it’d just fucking disappear, but hey no, it’s still here.

but that’s okay, you see my parents don’t know a thing about it. i shredded all the notices they’ve sent us and made sure to cut the line every time my sneaky ass school called home. so when it came to my last class for the day, which is english lit obviously, i was quite happy that i didn’t have to stay behind like some students.

the class is empty, it’s almost 4 sharp.

“it’s only interviews,” i try to ease mr killian’s nerves. “just tell them what they wanna hear ~ easy peasy.”

“i wish, but it doesn’t work like that, luv. you know,” he looks up from his paper and removes his reading glasses to rub his weary eyes, “believe it or not, but we hate this day just as much as you kids do.”

“really?” i’m shooked. “thought you teachers just loved taking your sweet as revenge on students on this devilish day. it’s practically reverse halloween where the educators aren’t in costume for the first time, huh.”

mr killian places his pen behind his ear, entertained. “‘reverse halloween’, aye?” he leans back on his chair, arms folded and an ankle~on~knee. “you’re too funny.”

“‘funny’?” i walk over to him, admiring the tantalising dark circles underneath his scintillating eyes. “yeah? and what else?”

he possessively pulls me in between his legs, squeezing my booty in fistfuls. “and sexy and fierce and delicious.”

“do you want a bj?”

“oh, and very fucking naughty too!”

“what you gonna do about it?”

“gee, you’re tempting me.”

“mhm,” i bite my lip.

“you are in serious need of punishment, little girl,” he flicks an eyebrow up. “slide down your panties and lean over my desk.”

my eyes open wide, “no.”

“pardon?”

“i mean, there’s no space on y~y~your desk,” i glance at it. “there’s those booklets, essays, midterms, finals, your laptop...”

“i’ll make space.”

“uh, umm,” i step back.

“nuh~uh,” he pulls me in again so that i’m standing with my thighs directly opposite his thingy. “slide ‘em down right in front of me.”

“that’s too close,” i squeak, going red.

“what difference does it make? you a step back or not, i’ll still see it. c’mon,” he feathers a finger down my bare thigh, “you can’t still be shy? i’ve seen every part of you, every inch of you. the hills, the slopes, the blemishes... want me to go on?”

ok, imma prove him wrong. i undo the button and zipper on my shorts, exposing the bright red lacy panties i got just for him.

“you were hiding those from me?” he points to them, sounding offended.

slowly, i rub my hand over the skimpy fabric, sticking a finger behind the elastic.

“such a tease,” sir leans back. “congratulations, darling, you’ve earned yourself 5 more spanks.”

the thought of him spanking me…

“want me to go easy on you?” he asks, and i see rare mercy dancing around in his eyes.

i nod, prolly a goner if i were dumb enough to take my chances with this guy.

“then touch yourself, sweetheart,” the mercy evaporates from his eyes completely. he just went from a saint to a sinner in a millisecond. “mhm,” he nods to my hesitant expression, “slide your hand through your panties and touch yourself for me. if you don’t moan my name whilst finger~fucking your cunt, i’ll give you the belt.”

heck no, i don’t want to get spanked with a belt! that’ll hurt so much more!! i’ve seen it on 50sog!

“y~you w~want me to m~masturbate for you?”

“did i stutter?”

no, but i did.

shocked at how strangely turned on i’m feeling, i slide my fingertips under the double thin lines of the red covered elastic bands. tell me, why did i wear this again? i inch my fingers down further, my breath hitching up and pelvic muscles contracting.

sir slides his hand into his pants and gently strokes his cock, scarring me with imaginary ciggy burns from the way he’s staring at me doing me. “hurry it up, little one, time is of the essence.”

3 knocks on the door and it swings open with a, “hello?”

mr killian speedily sits up.

and i step back right away, pulling my hand out and tugging my shirt over the open zipper. “mum?”

“roséah,” she squints, “what on earth... dear lord, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

i refuse to blink. i think i’m having something like a heart attack. “w~what do you mean?”

“well, for starters,” she struts up to me, “you didn’t tell me that today was parent~teacher interview night.”

i exhale deeply, relief has never felt this good.

“mr killian, i presume?” mum says, holding her hand out.

i quickly fix myself up behind her.

“please,” he smiles, shaking her hand, “call me isaac.”

why the fuck would mum come here without informing me about it?!?

“apologies for not booking in a time slot and barging in like this. had i known,” mum gives me an irritated look, “i would have been more prepared.”

“it’s no worries, mrs blackburn,” sir tries to downplay it. “i reckon i can squeeze you in before my first interview. so please,” he motions to the two seats preplaced in front of the desk, “have a seat.”

“christella will do just fine,” and she takes no time in making herself comfortable.

i roll my eyes, so fucking annoyed and anxious at the same time.

“if you don’t mind my saying so,” sir gracefully says, “but now i know where your beautiful daughter gets her beautiful looks from.”

mum titters, tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear and straightening out her pencil skirt.

tf.

sir glances at me and it’s so provocative in nature that i can’t look away, hence he does it for me. “do we have a common friend that can get both of us acquainted with one another?” he causally asks my mother with a chuckle.

aren’t they supposed to be talking about me?

“i don’t suppose so, isn’t that a shame?” mum smiles.

“‘shame’ would be an understatement, stella…can i call you stella?”

“you can call me whatever you want, isaac.”

“ahem!!” eww. ew. “mum,” i shake my head at her like ‘did you forget you have a husband?’, “you might wanna..”

“oh, yes, of course! silly me. so do tell, isaac? how has my daughter been doing?”

“well, to be candour, i’m rather impressed at how dedicated rosé is on learning.”

“hm, is that so?” she gives me a suspicious glance.

“indeed,” mr killian sends me a secret wink.

“does she slack off? because you’d tell me if she did, right?” mum asks.

“mum,” i grumble, she’s so embarrassing sometimes.

mr killian chuckles, “you’d be the first to know, stella. fortunately, that isn’t the case. rosé has quite the eye for accomplishing her goals.”

i’m getting lost in him again...

“gets all her work done on time, doesn’t send inappropriate text messages in class,” he proceeds professionally, kinda cocky, “nor does she ever has to stay back late.”

all of which i do the opposite of, i give him a guilty grin.

mum looks rather very taken aback, considering how i am at home. “seems like she’s quite the student?”

“you’d be surprised by what goes on in these walls.”

that not so hidden half~smile sir gives me pauses my mum in her tracks with her next question. i look at her sudden stiffness and notice how she’s surveying mr killian intently, her eyes narrowed into slits. oh crap.

“ahem!” i shift in my seat quickly.

sir coughs and swiftly brings in another topic.

mum gradually returns to her usual manner.

that was close.

when they finally say their farewells, i feel relieved as a fucking kite flying high up in a blue cloudless sky. mum did a few more interviews before she finally decided to go home. mr killian had given her false hope and high expectations, so it was funny when my other teachers informed her that my grades were declining from b’s and c’s to d’s and e’s.

oops, my bad.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

it’s late, a major thunderstorm has hit and maxi being the scaredy~cat he is has crept into my room for the night. incoming call from isaac. i decline it. so he calls me again. and i decline it again. busy tryna shoot him a text which he keeps interrupting with phone calls.

daddy🔐 is my furry baby avoiding my calls?

tf he just called me??????

me im not avoiding ur calls jus ctrn cuz baby bro is sleeping in my bed thunder isnt his strong suit :/

daddy🔐 why am i jealous?

lol, seriously? i smile, rolling over to the edge of my bed.

daddy🔐 can’t stop thinking about you...

me jus stop its not dat hard

god, i suck at this.

daddy🔐 i really need to be fucking inside you right now!

uh, what the fuck do i text back?!

daddy🔐 would it be inappropriate of me to ask you what you are wearing since you’re with your kid brother?

haha.

me wow, ur quite the gentleman, arent ya ?

daddy🔐 i try my best.

feeling kinky, i silently remove my oversized graphic tee and take two pictures of myself. then i quickly pop my tee back on before curling up on the bed and hitting ‘send’.

daddy🔐 mmmm leopard panties and no bra, sexy. though i do wish you could move your arm out of the way so i could see my two girls?

no, my boobies are too small and i’m shy!

daddy🔐 such unspeakable things i could to your body right about now. would you like to know, baby?

i’m so tempted to text back ‘yes’, but that’d just get me too hot and bothered which is not a good idea when your lil brother is lying right next to you.

me behave (;

daddy🔐 how about we finish off what we started back in the classroom?

me we hv company rmbr ?

daddy🔐 right.

there’s a while with those 3 flashing dots before he texts back.

daddy🔐 considering we have an audience tonight, i’m willing to keep it pg. on the contrary, was nice talking to your mother today.

me were u flirting w her ?

daddy🔐 i don’t know. was i?

me u so were ! nd evry subtextual sentence u uttered !! she cud hv caught on yanno ?!

daddy🔐 that, i couldn’t help. the look on your face was hilarious. hers too.

i almost lol by just picturing my mum’s face, but i suppress it.

me jus bc u made me laugh dnt mean im not still mad !

daddy🔐 allow me to make it up to you?

me go on...

daddy🔐 there’s this soirée i’m holding with my crew for the long weekend. lakehouse, few beers, great view - thank kinda thing. i want you there.

me y do u want me der ? (;

daddy🔐 ‘cause i wanna fuck you hard on my mate’s couch whilst everyone else is out by the lake.

oh?

daddy🔐 and also because i want you to get to know my people more. (:

he used a smiley face! he never uses smiley faces!

me hmm, guess ill hv 2 think bout it

because i have to ask my mum first!!

daddy🔐 hope this helps?

he sends me a photo or two back, like it was a trade or something. but jesus christ, isaac killian! he was definitely not kidding about having me on his mind!

daddy🔐 don’t ponder too much. goodnight, love.

“rosé..?” maxi murmurs behind me, rolling around.

shit. i drop my phone in an instant and cringe for my luck. “yeah?”

“you’re taking all the blanket and i’m cold..”

“oh, right...” i exhale with relief, placing my phone on the bedside table. i turn around, shifting the blanket over him and putting my arms around him. phew.

i rest my eyes for a second when maxi is like, “what was that?”

“hm?” i smile as he snuggles between my arms.

“that big cucumber looking thing on your phone.”

i almost choke on my saliva. “t~t~that was...you’re dreaming, maxi. this is all nothing but a dream...” i add some whooo noise effect to make it more believable.

“no i am not!” he asserts.

“yes you are! now shut up or go back to your own room.”

thunder cracks intensely and he doesn’t say anything further. thank you, sweet jesus.

[hyunsracha]

your world — han jisung

word count: 1.8k

summary: jisung was a lover, not a fighter.

han jisung didn’t like to fight.

he was kinda weak and didn’t know how to throw a punch :/

when you first met jisung, you thought that he did fight.

you didn’t want to assume, but you couldn’t help it.

he only wore black and had tattoos trickling down his arms. he Also had a lip ring...but you later learned that was fake.

he dropped out of school bc Fuck That.

but he told u that he didn't fight ! he just ……… stole things sometimes

jisung, showing up at ur house: hey baby i got u some snacks !!!

u: did u steal those >:( jisung if u stole those we’re going to the store RIGHT NOW so u can apologize >:(

jisung, handing u the helmet that he bought for u: can’t u just let me be a good boyfriend

you were the only person he was whipped like that for :/// if anyone else told him to return the stuff he stole he’d tell them to go fuck themselves

but just the thought of u being upset with him :(((( broke his heart

jisung always said that he was a lover, not a fighter.

you always called him dumb and rolled your eyes when he said that, but on the inside u were kinda glad :////

u had a friend who was dating jisung’s friend minho and they told u that it fucking SUCKS when ur boyfriend shows up at 3am all bloodied and bruised.

so at 3am when jisung showed up on your doorstep, bloodied and bruised, you nearly had a heart attack.

the knocks on your door had woken you up from your Beauty Sleep, but once you saw your boyfriend and one of his best friends you went into PANIC MODE!!!

“hey- hey- y/n calm down-”

“FUCK YOU CHRIS DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!!!”

apparently. a lil gang from another school had found them when they were doing typical bad boy stuff-

“???”

“like yanno … hanging out in an alley, smoking-”

“JISUNG WAS SMO-”

“NO!!! jesus…. let me finish my story.”

and these other dudes just JUMPED THEM !!!

like skz are little tiny boys they’re Very Weak they got their Asses Kicked.

some members, like changbin (although he is short he is Very Buff) or hyunjin (long.) or felix (also tiny, but is a taekwondo Legend) were able to hold them off for a little while, all nine of them kinda got their shit rocked

even chris, who was standing in front of you with blood coming from . every orifice on his face .

“okay.” you said, pulling your boyfriend from chris’s arms into yours, “and you didn’t think to take him to a Fucking Hospital.”

“i DID! he said no! he said he wanted to spend his last moments with you-”

“LAST MOMENTS???”

“god. you’re both so dramatic. you’re perfect for each other.” chris rolled his eyes, “now if you’ll excuse me, i have better things to do, like go to a Fucking Hospital.”

you close the door, wasting no more time and dragging jisung’s weak body to your bathroom. you pushed him down - gently - onto the closed toilet seat.

you had a few first aid kits in your house, mostly bc jisung wasn’t the Best on his bike. you’ve handled many cuts and scratches, but nothing like this.

you take this moment to finally look at him and assess the damage.

he’s staring back at you, his eyes only half open. but you assume that’s all he can open them.

his lip was busted, and he had a large gash on his cheek. his arms were covered in various bruises, but that’s all you could see.

“c-can you lift your arms, sungie?”

jisung nodded, slowly lifting his arms above his head, wincing the whole way.

you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly.

“fuck, jisung. what did they do to you?”

“is it bad?”

“um!” you didn’t want to worry him, “no-”

“you’re lying, aren’t you?”

“i am. i really really am.” you folded his shirt, setting it on the sink. you would wash it later. he has shirts here.

you sighed. his stomach was painted with a mix of red, purple, and blue. that couldn’t be good.

“do you need my pants off too?” when you looked back at his face, he was smirking -  or at least trying to.

“are you- are you trying to be fucking cheeky with me right now, han?”

“is it working?”

“no.”

“fine,” he sighed, “i think i have a few cuts on my legs. get out for a second.”

“get- GET OUT? jisung. i need to fix you up. i can’t leave.”

“fine!”

there was nothing Intimate about this moment. yeah, he was taking off his pants, but you were worried out of your fucking mind.

and he was right. there were cuts on his legs. in particular, a really long one that ran halfway down his thigh.

you let out a groan, deciding that That was what you were going to clean first. you took rubbing alcohol and a pad, mumbling a quick apology to the boy before going in.

he whined and pouted like a fucking Baby, but he was a big baby most of the time, so you didn’t even flinch.

you started off cleaning and patching up all of his smaller cuts, and pressing soft kisses around his bruises because you know it makes him happy.

and you’d do anything to make him happy, especially when you know he’s in a lot of pain like this.

but you waited to do his face, because he was Extra sensitive there and would demand More kisses.

“i don’t know what i can do about your stomach, sung.”

“who cares?”

“what the- i care, jisung.”

“listen to me, baby,” jisung grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. he wrapped his arms around your waist, propping his chin on your stomach as you looked down at him, “i don’t really care if i die. i’m here, and you’re here, and that’s all that really matters to me.”

see, that was something you never understood about jisung.

he was so determined to have a future, and he was talented enough to have one. but he also...didn’t care?

if there was an opportunity for jisung’s life to be in danger, he would take it.

he said he was just Living In The Moment, but he seemed a little extreme about it.

“or. i could just take you to a Fucking Hospital.”

“baby,” he whined, “i don’t wanna go to a hospital. they’re scary. if i’m gonna die, i’m gonna die. i can make sick beats for jesus.”

“and what makes you think you’re going to heaven?” you giggled, pushing his arms away so you could go back to your first aid kid.

“because i already have an angel down here on earth with me.”

you blushed, but hid it with an eye roll.

“okay, cheeseball. let’s work on this face.”

you made sure you were extra careful with his face, especially his eyes.

he was Definitely gonna have a black eye, and the thought of it made you pout.

you moved the pad away from his face, watching his eyes wandering around your face, the fondest of smiles gracing his cracked lip.

and then you thought back to his stomach, and oh god what the fuck were you gonna do?

and then you had the thought of losing him.

losing jisung, your rock. the boy who had you head over heels from the first day you met. the boy who picked you up on his motorcycle and took you anywhere, no questions asked. the boy who sat with you and listened to you stress over exams and college, even though he couldn’t relate to any of it. the boy who meant the whole world to you, and you couldn’t imagine life without your world.

unbeknownst to you, you were crying at this point.

“hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter, baby?” jisung’s hands came up to hold your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“you’re so fucking dumb jisung, getting your ass kicked like this.”

“well, it wasn’t really my intention, baby.” he smiled.

jisung feels bad.

really, really bad.

he woke you up at GOD knows what time and he’s bleeding all over your floors and he’s bruised to hell and he feels like he’s dying.

i mean. he doesn’t know what dying feels like. but he Assumes it’s this.

it’s hard to keep his eyes open and he feels so, so weak. he just wants to go to sleep.

but you! you were his angel and if he was gonna go to sleep, he wanted you to really, truly, deeply know how he felt about you.

jisung had read somewhere (yes, he reads) that you could put all of your feelings for a person into a kiss.

so he tried that!

and you could feel it.

he tasted like blood and rubbing alcohol, but you could feel it.

every time jisung kissed you, you felt sparks, fireworks, the whole shebang.

but this one was special. he was kissing you like it was the last time he was ever going to be able to, because he felt like it was.

you knew it wasn’t, but you didn’t really mind how breathless a kiss like that made you.

then he smiled at you, small but blinding, and closed his eyes.

“god, jisung, you really are something else, huh?” you whispered to him.

jisung was fucking HEAVY when he was asleep.

dragging him to ur car was like dragging 18 million SANDBAGS.

ok not that heavy but ur Dramatic ok.

that was one of the scariest drives of ur whole life!

it was silent, so you could listen to him breathing.

the doctors took him in and fixed him all up (and some of the nurses had to help u steady ur breathing).

you sat in one of the annoyingly uncomfortable chairs next to his hospital bed, your knees pulled up to your chest as you waited.

there was nothing seriously wrong with him, but he did have a broken pinky.

how u didn’t notice before? i dunno man u were more worried about the Crime Scene on his belly.

which was fine!

jisung was fine!

he was kinda grumpy when he woke up though >:(

“i told u i didn’t wanna come to a hospital >:(“

“and I Told You i didn’t want you to die.”

“u never said that :)”

“i don’t think i have to say i don’t want the love of my life to die i think that’s implied-”

“i’m the love of your life? :D”

you scoffed, reaching over and flicking his forehead lightly.

“bite me, han jisung.”

yes, he was the love of your life. but you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of hearing that.

don’t worry, he knows.

and besides, you’re the love of his life, too.

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- Part 3 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so i got a lot of requests for michael to be put in his place, and i just gotta say... that doesn’t exactly happen in this part lmao. it will definitely happen in a future part tho!! y’all also wanted jealous!michael, which i was glad to deliver!! i really hope y’all like this part. please reblog and leave comments if u do!!! :) 

please check out my masterlist for part 1 and 2, since i’ve heard that including links in posts now fucks with the tags (i don’t know if this is true, but just to be safe i’m not gonna include links). lmao

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, underage drinking, smoking, jealous!michael, teen angst, public (ish) sex, fingering, choking, blowjobs/facefucking, rough sex, hair pulling, degradation, spanking (both traditional and non-traditional, if yanno what i mean...), dirty talk

word count: 7k

tags: @alicecooper19 @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @satansapostle @trelaney @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning @alexa-is-on-fire @kissydevil @langdonalien @langdonsdemon @sloppy-wrist @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @duncvn @langdonsrapture @ccodyfern @starwlkers @xtheinevitableprophecyx @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @sojournmichael @kahhlo

i.

A month had passed since the… incident with Michael, and since that time, you’d transformed into somebody you hardly recognized.

You and Michael? Well, you and Michael had begun to get along quite well. Gone were the days of pointless arguing- if there was ever a problem, it usually wouldn’t be long before Michael’s dick was somewhere inside of you, and by the time you both were done, neither of you would have the energy to fight anymore. You still bickered, of course, and you both loved nothing more than to get on each other’s nerves, but the initial hatred you’d harbored towards your stepbrother was now, for the most part, gone.

The change was obvious and palpable. Sometimes you were surprised that your parents hadn’t caught on to something going on between you and Michael, but you figured they were just happy you were both coexisting. We’re finally like a family, your father had said, beaming, when you and Michael had shared a blanket during family movie night.

You’d exchanged a look with Michael, uncomfortable giggles passing both of your lips. If only your father had known where Michael’s hand had been placed, right that very minute, underneath the blanket.

You supposed that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

In the mornings, Michael would drive you to school without complaint. You suspected this was because of the opportunities for quick car… activities: on several occasions, he’d fingered you on the short drive to school, testing himself to see how quickly he could bring you to an orgasm, your hands clamped around his forearm as his fingers moved between your thighs, tinted lens-covered eyes focused on the road.

That boy was always in the mood, you’d come to realize.  

On this particular day, Michael seemed to be more in the mood than usual; he’d given your ass a particularly hard slap as you passed him in the hallway that morning, a cocky grin crossing his face when you’d told him, only half-seriously, to fuck off.

God, this was fucking ridiculous. You knew this was ridiculous, that this was wrong, that you should feel unclean, dirty, every time you let him touch you. It made complete sense, logically, for you to cut things off with him.

Besides the glaringly obvious fact that he was your stepbrother, he was also a total douchebag, a fuckboy, a player. He’d been balls deep in at least a quarter of your grade at some point or another. He objectified you- you (admittedly fondly) recalled a time he’d pushed you up against the sink one morning, snaking those big hands up your pajama shirt to grab a fistful of your tits before walking off like nothing had happened.

And, like the fucking idiot you were, you’d been left in a state of absolute, pathetic euphoria, your cheeks flushed and heart pounding, teeth sinking into your lower lip like a pornstar.

Sometimes you really hated yourself.

Scratch that, you hated yourself a lot more than sometimes.

When you’d finally come downstairs for breakfast, dressed in your usual jeans and sweater, you’d noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on the curves of your thighs, prominent through the form-fitting denim material. Had he always checked you out like this?

“You need a ride to school today?” Michael asked, shoveling a spoonful of your favorite cereal into his mouth. You pursed your lips disapprovingly, but decided not to mention it.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Miriam seemed pleased with this exchange, shuffling over to where Michael sat and ruffling his hair affectionately, much to his obvious dismay. “I love seeing you two finally getting along. See, isn’t it so much better being nice to your sister?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at you, hands lifting to adjust his hair back to how it’d been before Miriam touched it. “Yeah, it really is. Right, sis?”

You cut your eyes at him, leaning your elbows on the counter and checking the time on your phone. “We’re gonna be late, bro.”

Michael stood up, again leaving his bowl on the table like the entitled, spoiled brat he was. He looked good, with black jeans and his favorite, faded pair of Doc Martens, paired with a white t-shirt and his beloved leather jacket. Lately he’d been letting his hair grow out, and his soft curls were nearly reaching his shoulders now.  

When you noticed the chain that he’d attached to his belt loops, you snorted.

“Nice chain. Good luck on your Hot Topic interview.”

He looked down at the silver appendage, leveling it idly with one hand before looking back to you. “You don’t like it?”

“I’m not saying I don’t like it, I’m just saying you look like you’re about to pull up to a My Chemical Romance concert circa 2008. All you need is some eyeliner.”

He walked past you to the front door, seemingly unaffected by your comment. “Honestly, eyeliner doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

You followed behind him until both of you were outside. It was almost admirable how little Michael cared of what other people thought of him; his confidence was probably why he was so popular, even though he didn’t necessarily fit in with the frat-boy-to-bes who were usually at the top of the high school food chain.

“So,” he said as you walked side-by-side to his car, giving you that familiar look that you knew so well. You swallowed, knowing fully well how little self-control you had when it came to Michael.

“I was thinking, maybe we should ditch first period today.”

You huffed, pretending to be opposed to this idea, even though you willingly went along with nearly anything Michael suggested no matter what it was. You got in the car, inhaling that telltale mixture of cologne and cigarettes and fast-food grease, getting yourself comfortable before answering.

“Michael, I can’t miss math again. I’ve already missed three times in two weeks.”

“So what’s one more time?” He ran his fingers through his hair before turning the key in ignition, the golden morning sun hitting his angelic features just right. Your mouth watered, and all at once your will dissolved into nothingness.

“I really hate you.”

He looked at you from the corners of his eyes with a smirk, pulling his sunglasses off the front of his shirt and putting them on.

“Fine.”

ii.

This is why I can’t fucking resist him, you thought, breath slow and heavy as Michael laid kiss after sloppy kiss across your collarbones, hand placed firmly between your thighs.

Michael had put in his favorite Pink Floyd CD once you’d arrived at the abandoned parking lot (the same one that his creepy friend had taken you to- apparently it was a popular place for teenagers to fuck). You’d both sat there for a bit, making small talk and sharing a joint that he’d pre-rolled, knowing fully well what you’d both come there to do.

I kind of wanna stretch my legs out, he’d finally said, voice low, the baby blue of his eyes accentuated by the red tinge surrounding his irises. Why don’t we go in the back?

Leave it to Michael to get straight to the action.

He’d gotten you undressed in a matter of minutes- your jeans and boots were discarded on the already cluttered floor of the car, leaving you in nothing but your sweater, socks, and pale blue underwear. He’d looked unbelievably sexy, lips red and glossed with spit, when he’d drawn back to pull off his jacket, eyes clouded with a voracious, possessive lust.  

Part of you wondered how many other girls had seen him in that exact state.

The thought dissipated, however, when he’d pushed aside the thin fabric of your underwear and promptly slipped two long fingers inside you.

“Always so fucking wet for me,” he’d murmured, playing with the hem of your sweater before pulling it off over your head. The warmth of his breath against your neck and the lewdness of his raspy words may as well have made you melt into a puddle right then.

Who’s gonna show this stranger around?

Ooh, I need a dirty woman

Ooh, I need a dirty girl

Michael’s fingers seemed to match the beat of the song playing, thumb flicking at your clit as he sucked a trail of bruises across your heaving chest, marking you, claiming you. You moaned, rolling your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing into your thigh through the tough material of his jeans; you reached between his legs and squeezed it, making him chuckle against you, and he brought his head up to face you.

“And you’re always so eager,” he said, retreating back onto his knees. Then he slid your underwear off and tossed it amongst the rest of the clothes that had piled up, hands flying to unzip his pants once you’d been disrobed. “My baby sister is such a bad girl for me.”

You considered reminding him that he was only a month older than you, and that you were hardly a baby, but you didn’t have time to correct him before he pulled his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs, allowing his erection to spring forward.

Your legs spread instinctively for him, and he inched towards you, positioning himself on top of you while your back rested partially against the door. He aligned the head of his cock with your opening and you sighed, reaching up his shirt from behind and pressing your fingernails into the smooth skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyelids fluttering as he pushed inside your tight heat, your narrow walls swallowing him up. Wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer, you moaned softly, heart rate increasing when he began to thrust slowly, but with just enough force to make your legs feel weak.

Every time he fucked you was like the first time; he was huge, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the feeling of him stretching you out. You loved the pain, though, loved the way you couldn’t walk right when he was finished with you, even when he went as gently as he could; you liked the bruises, the scratches, the indents of his short fingernails where they’d dug into your skin.

“Michael,” you sighed, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythmic thrusts, both your sounds of pleasure becoming diluted by the drums and guitar and keyboard blaring from the stereo.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, and you were sure he could taste the salt of your sweat, his tongue darting out to trail along your skin as he fucked into you.

You were stricken with ecstasy, shivering when Michael’s firm torso made friction on your clit, and you brought one hand up to run through his sweat-dampened golden waves.

“H-harder,” you choked out, and he sank his teeth into your shoulder before mumbling a half-hearted response to your plea.

“You want me to fuck you harder, baby? Wanna feel me for the rest of the day?”

“Mhm.” You gave his hair an urgent tug, and again he tilted his head up to look at you, his eyes so dilated they almost appeared entirely black. Placing one hand loosely around your throat, just like he knew you liked, he pulled himself all the way out of you; there was a vulgar slapping noise as he gave a hard, pointed shove of his hips, impaling you to the hilt, and you cried out at the fullness.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he praised, eyes locked with yours while he pounded you into the leather seat, hard enough to bruise. His grip tightened around your neck as he came closer to his release, forehead slick with perspiration, perfect mouth agape.

This was everything, everything you thought about, everything you wanted: moments like this, your bodies pressed flush together, moving in perfect time. You caressed Michael’s hair so softly, one might mistake it as a loving touch, your other hand making shallow scratches up and down the expanse of skin beside his spine.

Your cunt clenched around him and you were almost there, his thrusts becoming sloppier with each passing second; there was a moment of silence, amplifying the raw sounds of sex as the song came to an end; that silence was followed by a quiet whirring, and then another song came on, psychedelic chords flooding your senses along with- fuck-

The head of Michael’s cock hit something sensitive deep inside of you, sending your lower body into convulsions, and you were sure your fingernails were drawing blood now, clawing onto Michael for dear life.

oh god-

-your thoughts weren’t coherent anymore, and then you were crying out, Michael’s cock working you open like your fingers never could, head lolling back and nearly colliding with the window, and-

“Oh god- oh fuck-“

The pads of Michael’s fingers pressed harshly into your throat, his eyes half-open in pure, fucked-out bliss, while yours rolled back into your head. It took only a few more strokes for you to cum, and then Michael was too, and you were glad you’d went on birth control for your period cramps when you were sixteen because holy shit did it feel good when he spilled his hot load inside you.

He pulled out of you, admiring the sight of his cum leaking down your inner thighs; he slid one finger up between your folds, gathering the sticky secretion and rubbing it against your pulsing clit, a self-satisfied expression crossing his face when your body twitched at the sensation.

“Ew, Michael,” you said, wrinkling your nose. He was so fucking smug every time he came inside of you, like he’d just marked his territory.

He just laughed at your reaction, moving back to pull his pants back up and refasten his jeans, reaching into the back pocket to pull out his package of cigarettes once he was finished re-dressing.

“Don’t wanna go back to school,” he grunted, retrieving a cigarette from the pack and sticking it between his teeth.

“How come? All your adoring fans are there,” you said, having found yourself in a sarcastic mood. You put your underwear back on, followed by your sweater; you decided you’d wait until later to put on your jeans, given the limited amount of space you had right now.

“I like you so much better when I’m inside you,” he said, picking up a lighter from the floor of the car and lighting his cigarette. “You’re too busy moaning my name to give me any attitude.”

You narrowed your eyes, but you were too exhausted to come up with a biting response. “Fuck you.”

“Just did.”

A trail of pale gray smoke wafted in your direction and you waved it away, coughing dramatically for good measure. “You know you can open the windows, right?”

“You know it’s my car so I can do whatever I want, right?” He took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly in your face, eating up your resulting look of disgust.

Some things would never change, and no matter how many times you let him fuck you raw, no matter how many times you brought each other to orgasm, you doubted the stepsibling rivalry would ever completely fade.

From the front seat, Michael’s phone vibrated, and he cursed under his breath as he grabbed for it.

“Hey, man,” he said once he’d accepted the call, resting his elbow against the window, flicking ash carelessly onto the floor of the car. The worry that it’d been Miriam calling to inquire about your whereabouts disappeared, and you reclined back against the seat.

“Uh, yeah, I skipped first period.” He shot you a warning look, indicating for you to stay silent, and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, uh, I’m picking up some shit for tomorrow.”

He sucked at the end of his cigarette, waiting for a response from his friend, while you picked your jeans up and put them on, struggling slightly as you attempted to get them on in a sitting position.

“No, I told you I can’t steal my stepdad’s shit anymore. My dumb fucking stepsister ratted me out and now he has a lock on the cabinet,” he said into the phone, shooting you a contemptuous scowl from the corner of his eye.

You batted your eyelashes innocently as you worked the tight denim up your legs; you were still proud of yourself for that one.

“Yeah, I’m picking up a few cases of beer. I- yeah.” Long pause. He flicked away some more ash, this time onto the seat, and you could see an orange ember still glowing in one of the tiny piles that had landed beside you. You wriggled your hips, finally getting the waistband of your jeans up and securing the silver button in its place. “Fuck no, dude, I’m not buying any of that 4 Loko shit. You remember what happened last time?”

Another pause. You were somewhat intrigued now, and Michael could tell; he held up his hand, dwindling cigarette poised between two fingers, waving you away with an obnoxious flourish.

“Yeah, man. I’ll see you in gym, dude-“ you could hear his friend speaking on the other end of the line, and Michael laughed at whatever he’d said. “Yeah, dude, those gym shorts Zoe Benson wears shouldn’t be allowed. I don’t know how anyone expects us to focus on fuckin’ volleyball with her ass hanging out like that.”

More laughing.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered, and Michael held a slender finger up to his lips.

“Yep. Bye, man.” He pressed his thumb into the “end call” button, before putting his cigarette out on the door and turning to you. “C’mon, we gotta go pick some shit up.”

You grabbed your boots from the floor and pulled them on. “For what?”

“None of your business.” He slung his leather jacket over one shoulder and got out of the car, the rubber soles of his combat boots slapping noisily against the asphalt as he walked around to the driver’s side.

You followed suit, hoping Michael couldn’t see how difficult it was for you to walk as you made your way to the passenger’s side and got into the car.

“C’mon, just tell me,” you said with a pout; in all honesty, you were fairly certain of what Michael’s plans were- he did the same thing nearly every single weekend, house party-hopping with his friends until he came home past 2 am, stumbling by your bedroom with absolutely no attempt at discretion.

The difference now, though, was that you kind of sort of wanted him to invite you to come with him for once. You were a senior in high school, after all, and you’d never even once been to a high school party. So sue you for being curious!

“If you must know,” he said, putting the car into drive, “it’s for a party. You don’t go to those.”

“You don’t know that,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Uh, I kinda do. I’ve never once seen you at a party. And I go to a lot of them.”

Wow, Michael, you’re sooo cool, you thought bitterly.

You had to admit, though, he was right.

He noticed the look on your face and snickered, perhaps a bit too condescendingly for your liking. “Aww, what, does my baby sister want her big brother to take her to her first high school party?”

Your skin prickled, and you looked out the window to avoid his piercing stare. You couldn’t believe the number of times you’d allowed this total douchebag to cum inside you. Even worse, you couldn’t believe that you were definitely going to let him do it again. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at a party with you,” you managed through clenched teeth, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, starting in the direction of the local gas station which was infamous for not carding underaged kids when they went to buy alcohol.

Fuck it. If he wasn’t going to invite you to come, you’d find your own way.

iii.  

Later that day, you’d asked your slightly-more-social acquaintance for a ride to the party that weekend, since your former best friend was no longer an option. She’d agreed, and you were surprised at how easy it’d been to get an ‘in’ on the high school social scene without Michael’s assistance.

You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when you walked into the party.

You’d searched through your drawers and in your closet for something cute (and also enticing enough to catch Michael’s attention, although you’d never say that outright) to wear; eventually you’d found a little red tank top, which your best friend had always said made your tits look good, and a pair of high-waisted jeans that you’d always thought made your butt look bigger.

Turning around in the mirror, observing your exposed midriff and pronounced chest and round ass, you had to admit you felt positively mouthwatering.

On the night of the party, your acquaintance arranged to pick you up at ten, which was perfect, since Michael had headed out at 9:30. You wanted this to be a surprise, and so a fashionably-late entrance was ideal.

You got yourself ready, straightening your hair and dousing yourself in perfume with hints of cinnamon (Michael’s favorite scent, although you swore to yourself you hadn’t done this on purpose). You smudged black eyeliner under your eyes, hoping this would make you look sexy and not like a raccoon, and put on a red lipstick that you only ever wore on special occasions.

Seeing yourself like this made you wonder why you didn’t dress up more often.

Before your ride came, you found your father’s key to the liquor cabinet (just as you’d expected, he’d hidden it inside one of his steel-toed work boots, which collected dust by the front door all year long while he continued to insist that he needed them for an upcoming ‘project’, whatever that meant) and unlocked it.

With shaking hands, you’d poured yourself a few shots, holding your nose each time you threw one back, throat burning and body shuddering at the awful flavor that you figured was probably what gasoline tasted like.

By the time you got the text from your acquaintance, alerting you that she was outside, you were decently drunk. Your thoughts were clouded with a thick fog and your cheeks were hot, but you liked it, liked the way your insides felt warm and uplifted, the way your mind felt numb; holding your hand against the wall to steady yourself as you walked to the front door, you attempted to mentally prepare yourself for the night to come.

You didn’t think you’d ever been so ready for something in your life.

iv.

In less than an hour, the party had gone from decent to good to great.

You knew the girl who was throwing the party, albeit very vaguely; you’d spoken a couple of times to her about school-related things, and she’d been nice enough. From what you’d heard, her parents had gone out of town for the weekend, and she’d taken full advantage of the opportunity.

It reminded you of when Miriam and your father had gone off on their honeymoon in July, and Michael had taken it upon himself to throw 3 consecutive keg parties in your fucking house. Well, technically, your backyard. But still. You’d stayed up in your room those nights, kept awake by the thumping bass coming from outside, ranting to your (ex) best friend over FaceTime about how goddamn much you hated the newest addition to your family.

And, of course, she’d gone and fucked him.

Could you really judge her, though? You were fucking him now, too, and you had infinitely more reasons than she did not to fuck him.

But that was besides the point.

The small group of girls who’d been in the car when you were picked up immediately dispersed upon arrival, leaving you to your own devices; already intoxicated, you’d begun your search for Michael in the crowd of drunken teenagers, keeping an eye out for that impeccable, lush mop of blonde hair.

You didn’t know what you were planning to do once you saw him. You couldn’t approach him, especially not if he was with his friends, but you wanted him to see you in all your glory, wanted him to see that hey, look, I can go to parties too if I want, and I don’t need you.

Michael, however, found you first.

It was much later (though you couldn’t be quite sure how much later), after you’d given up on your search, opting instead to talk to a cute boy who you thought looked very similar to one of Michael’s friends.

Honestly, it probably was one of Michael’s friends- at this point, you were too drunk to tell, having indulged in one or two (okay, more like three or four) more shots during the time you’d spent weaving through the party.

You were in the middle of telling the boy exactly how you knew that Chuck E Cheese recycled their pizza slices when a thick, slurred voice interrupted you.

“(Y/n)?”

You turned, eyes heavy-lidded, a stupid, sloppy smile plastered across your made-up face.

That smile only slightly faltered when you saw who had spoken. It was Michael (because who else would it be?), looking stupidly beautiful like he always did, face twisted up into something you couldn’t quite decipher- maybe you were too drunk to tell, or maybe he was too drunk to properly convey his emotions; either way, you were unsure of what he was planning to say to you.

“Who did you come here with?” he asked. He was practically yelling, struggling to be heard over the shouts of teenagers and blasting rap music.

“Wouldn’t you-“ you hiccuped- “like to know?”

His line of sight suddenly dropped down to your chest, and then to your hips, and then back to your eyes, and you were 99.9 percent sure you’d just witnessed his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

When he realized you’d noticed him looking, he made an attempt to save himself. “Huh. Looks like you actually put effort into looking good for once.”

You probably would’ve been offended at this comment, had you not been multiple shots deep.

“You think I look good?” you purred, rocking back and forth on your heels like a spoiled little girl asking for her father for a pony.

He ignored your question, focusing his attention now on the boy you’d been talking to.

“There you are, dude, we were wondering where you went.” He poised an eyebrow, not bothering to conceal his confusion with the situation at hand, which was, of course, the fact that you were mid-conversation with one of his friends. “So, um... whatcha doing?”

He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, a venomous smile stretching across his full lips. He wasn’t happy, that much you could tell.

The boy let out an oblivious chuckle. “Your sister was just telling me about- what was it, (y/n)?”

“Chuck E Cheese,” you said quietly, probably too quietly for Michael to hear. Not that you really believed Michael cared much about what you’d been talking about.

“Right- well, did you know that there’s like, a conspiracy, I guess? That they-“

“-Don’t fuck around with my sister, okay?” Michael interjected, his tone firm and unyielding, and you felt your face bloom with color. “It’s my fucking sister, man. I would back off if I were you.”

All at once, the boy’s smile faded, as did yours. So apparently Michael was an aggressive drunk. Noted.

“Michael, I can talk to whoever I want and there’s nothing-“ you jabbed your finger at Michael’s chest, giggling uncontrollably at the resistance of the muscular surface. “-you can do about it. So suck. My. Dick.”

The muscles in Michael’s face tightened, and you got the smallest urge to run your tongue along the sharp, angular stretch of his clenched jawline. Of course, you refrained.

“I would’ve thought you learned not to run around with my friends after the first time, but I guess I was wrong,” he said with a shrug that you could tell was meant to make him appear indifferent to the matter; it didn’t take a psychologist to tell, though, that he cared far more than you knew he’d ever admit.

“Yeah, I guess you were,” you slurred, spinning around to take hold of your new friend’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Without another word to Michael, you walked away, your new friend allowing you to guide him as you searched for somewhere else to go. Swaying your hips with each step, you hoped Michael was getting a good eyeful of your ass in those skintight jeans of yours.

God, it was like a natural high whenever you got under Michael’s skin, and right now, you were over the moon.

v.

You should’ve known that things would end up like this, because your life was one massive cacophony of clichés and this was just the way things played out in every single teen sitcom.

It felt disrespectful, somehow, being pushed up against the wall of a total stranger’s bedroom, your tongue tangling with some kid you hardly knew, the taste of liquor ripe on the back of your throat.

It felt even more disrespectful when you sat him down on the edge of the bed, sinking onto your knees so you were between his jean-clad thighs, and it felt downright indecorous when you unzipped his pants to pull his cock out of his boxers.

You shut your eyes to avoid accidentally making eye contact with any of the pictures adorning the wall, especially the family photo enclosed within a picture frame that had Family Is Everything written across the bottom in hot pink script.

What the fuck were you doing?

Taking the boy’s cock in your hand, you applied a few thoughtless licks to the head of his dick, his sighs audible even over the muffled music that spilled into the room underneath the closed door. You bobbed your head down, taking him into your mouth, his fingers gently lacing with your hair as you dipped further.

With your eyes closed, you could almost pretend that it was Michael’s dick in your mouth, and not one of his not-as-cute friend’s.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” moaned the boy, and you cringed at his dirty talk; still, you took more of him into your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against his shaft, wishing he’d put more pressure on the back of your head with his palm like Michael always did.

Fuck Michael Langdon, fuck the way you wanted him even when he was a total asshole to you, and fuck the fact that he was on your mind, nonstop, even when you had another guy’s dick in your goddamn mouth.

You brought your hand away from the boy’s shaft and instead placed it on his thigh, pushing your head down until you were gagging around him, nose nearly reaching his balls. The boy gasped, inadvertently lifting his hips and shoving himself deeper in your mouth, and you sputtered.

From out in the hallway, you heard someone talking about finding the bathroom, the voice growing louder and louder until the mystery speaker was directly outside the bedroom; it didn’t occur to you to be concerned, or at least not until it was far too late and the door had already swung open, and you heard two startled shouts- one from the boy you’d been sucking off, and one from the person who’d just barged in.

“Michael-“ exclaimed the boy, and it was then that you realized how truly fucked you were.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Michael said, and you felt a hand entangle with your hair to yank you back, painfully, so you were sprawled on your ass.

You looked up at your stepbrother, his nostrils flaring in that way that only happened when he was pissed, and silently you scolded yourself for thinking that he looked hot like this.

“Didn’t I tell you not to fuck with my sister?” he continued, grabbing his friend by the front of his shirt and jerking him to his feet. The boy looked positively terrified, lower lip trembling as Michael whirled him around and sent him catapulting out into the hallway.

“You ever touch her again and I’ll snap your fucking neck,” he yelled after him, sounding so dead serious that you thought it’d be foolish not to believe his threat.

Now it was just the two of you, and honestly, you were pretty fucking scared (though why, oh why, did you also feel something like excitement building up in your belly?). Michael slammed the door shut before coming to tower over you; you scrambled back, moving to stand up, but he stopped you.

“No. You stay down there,” he spat, voice laden with disgust. “Who knew you were such a little slut? If you wanted something to suck on, (y/n), you could’ve just asked me.”

“Mi-Michael, I-“

“-Shut the fuck up.” He reached down to take a fistful of your hair in his hand, using it to bring you roughly to your knees.

Why the fuck was this happening? And why the fuck were you so completely turned on?

“If cock in your mouth is what you wanted, then that’s exactly what you’re going to get,” he said, unzipping his pants and retrieving himself from the confines of his boxers; he was already hard, his cock springing forward so suddenly it almost hit you across the face, and you flinched.

“Aww, what’s the matter? I thought you liked having cock in your face,” he taunted, taking his thick shaft in hand and slapping you across the cheek with it. He did this a few more times until the side of your face was stinging, sadistic laughter bubbling past his lips each time you squeezed your eyes shut in utter humiliation and arousal.

When he grew bored of this, he reached down and manually unhinged your jaw, wasting no time before pushing himself into your mouth, brushing the back of your throat with his first thrust.

You gagged, drool already seeping from the corners of your lips, balling your hands into fists at your sides as you allowed your stepbrother to mercilessly use you.

He snapped his hips forward, his cock so deep in your throat that you were now face-to-face with the soft curls surrounding his pelvis.

“I bet he didn’t fuck your face like this,” he said between pants, holding your face against his balls before pulling out and fucking back into your hot mouth. “Bet he didn’t show you who you belong to like I do.”

You moaned around his stiff skin, sending vibrations up the length of his cock, and he cursed loudly; tears streamed down your face, no doubt ruining your makeup, but you were too far gone to care.

Michael pulled out of your swollen mouth, strings of saliva stretching and breaking between your mouth and his glistening cock. You took in a much-needed breath just as he took you by the front of your shirt and forced you to stand, groping your tits as he thrust you backwards onto the bed.

“Did you let him inside you?” he demanded, making quick work of removing your jeans and tossing them off the side of the bed.

“No, Michael, I swear-“

He cupped your pussy, making you squirm when he pressed two fingers against your clit through the thin material of your panties. “I better not find out that you’re lying.”

He pulled your underwear off and discarded it on the floor, leaning down to spit a thick wad of saliva onto your dripping cunt. You whimpered, wiggling slightly against the mattress, and in turn he pinned you down by your hips with a bruising hold.

“I’m gonna be as clear as I can be,” he said, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting you up by your waist so your ass was in the air. He wrapped a strand of your hair around his hand, tugging your head back, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh as he brought his head down to whisper in your ear.

“This pussy?” He landed a painful slap on your cunt, and you jumped. “It belongs to me.”

You bit your lip at his words, ringing in your ears even after they’d left his mouth. He let your hair go, hooking his fingers around your cheek to push them inside your mouth, and obediently you opened up for him.

“And this pretty mouth?” He lined his cock up with your slit, pumping his fingers in and out of your gaping mouth, your eyes watering when he pushed them down on the back of your tongue. “It’s mine too.”

In one swift motion, he pushed all the way into you, not allowing you any time to adjust before he began hammering inside at a ruthless pace; you cried out, overtaken with the seamless blend of pain and pleasure that Michael had gotten you so accustomed to, more tears streaming down your cheeks and dropping onto the sheets below.

He pulled his fingers out from your mouth, using his hand instead to smack the rounded curve of your ass. You buried your face in the pillow, hoping you wouldn’t stain the case too badly with your smeared makeup, arching your back higher so you could feel every inch of Michael’s cock filling you up.

The vulgar, wet sounds of his cock slamming in and out of you were almost too much to bear, a mixture of your arousal and Michael’s spit dripping down your inner thighs in a crude display; Michael gripped your hips for leverage, undoubtedly forming five fingerprint-shaped bruises on your padded skin in the process.

“Oh fuck- Michael, please-“ It hurt, the way he was fucking you, but you would’ve sold your soul right then if it meant always being able to feel this intense, rapturous pleasure.

“Who do you belong to?” Michael barked, voice raspy, but still harsh enough to cut through your consciousness like a knife.

“Y-you, Michael, fuck,” you moaned, twisting the bedsheets in your hands until your knuckles turned white, eyes rolling back into your skull as Michael bottomed out inside you again and again and again.

For a moment, he steadied his thrusting so he could catch his breath, slowly pressing himself all the way inside so his balls rested against your ass.

“You- take me- so- well,” he said between sharp inhales, tracing one hand gingerly down the length of your spine. Your skin erupted with goosebumps at the tenderness of his touch, your hips grinding back to increase the stimulation.

It only took a few moments for Michael to recuperate himself, and once he had, he was back to his animalistic ways; behind you, you could hear him grunting, and you could only imagine how beautiful he looked back there in all his fucked-out bliss.

“I’m- I’m-“ you couldn’t get the words out, your walls clenching around him as you came unexpectedly, your juices dribbling down your inner thighs and all over Michael’s cock.

“Holy shit,” Michael laughed, coating his fingertips until they were slick with your essence and observing them in awe. You went to get up, but he turned you onto your back, kneeling over your shoulders and promptly inserting himself down your throat.  

He groaned, releasing his thick, salty load in your mouth; he was so deep in your throat that you didn’t even have to swallow.

“Fuck,” Michael said, falling back to lie beside you. You were a mess, trails of mascara staining your cheeks and red lipstick smudged, and you had no idea how you were going to leave the room without someone wondering what the hell had happened to you.

You got into a cross-legged position; you definitely weren’t in any position to get up or walk anywhere at this point in time. “So were you actually pissed that I sucked your friend’s dick? Or was that just an excuse to throw me around and fuck my face?”

It was an earnest question that you genuinely didn’t know the answer to. Why did Michael care so much anyway? Especially considering the times he’d fucked your (ex) best friend?

“Little bit of both,” he said, hoisting up his hips so he could pull up his boxers and jeans. “Look. I- I may have overreacted just a little bit. I just don’t want my douchebag friends putting their hands on my sister, you know?”

You scoffed. “We both know you don’t consider me your sister.”

“Doesn’t matter. I just- I don’t know. Forget it.” He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising to his feet. “I’m gonna go see if I can find makeup remover somewhere. You look like a fucking wreck.”

There was something about that statement that made your heart swell in your chest; Michael was actually doing something nice for you?

“Aww, really? Thanks, Michael,” you said with a smile.

He scrunched up his face. “Alright, calm down.”

He opened the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving you half-naked and alone with your thoughts. You felt conflicted, like you always did after you spent time with Michael, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something, deep down, inside the hardened, fucked-up heart of your stepbrother, that actually resembled something good.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

[katedoesfics]

The Lost Hero | Chapter 1

12 Years Later…

Dahvi’s lips pulled into a wicked sneer. He thrust the spear up before him threateningly, but the man only laughed.

“What are you, ten?”

“Thirteen,” Dahvi hissed.

This only caused the man to laugh harder. “Oh, kid. You don’t have a clue, do ya? Try as you might, but you ain’t gettin’ into that city, either.”

Dahvi twirled the spear confidently and let it set at his foot. He put a hand on his hip and grinned. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The man crossed his arms. “Men aren’t allowed in that city. That goes for little rats like you, too.”

Dahvi shrugged one shoulder, then turned and marched toward the city gates. He let his spear rest on his shoulder as he strode passed the two guards, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see the look of shock on the Hylian man’s face. He snickered to himself, then broke into a run through Gerudo City, his bare feet slapping against the warm cobblestone roads.

It was early in the morning, but the air was already hot and the streets lively as vendors busied themselves with their shops and goods. A few female tourists had already arrived, stepping out of their hotel rooms or coming in through the main gates to get their hands on the precious Gerudo goods before they sold out.

The shop keepers barked at Dahvi as he darted between them, and some of the tourists gave the boy dirty looks, but he ignored them as he ran through the city. Riju was there somewhere, and he would be damned if she got away from him again.

Dahvi didn’t slow until he reached one of the narrow alleyways. The height of the buildings on either side provided just enough shade to help cool him for a moment, and he held his breath as he listened. He was sure he had heard her unmistakable giggle. Riju was known to play mind games with him. Like him, she was fast and nimble, and despite her mother’s scoldings, she scaled the buildings with ease, taking to the roof tops.

He heard her giggle once more. A flash of red caught his attention, and he turned his gaze to the roof just in time to see her braided red hair disappear from the edge. He gripped the spear between his teeth and jumped on top of a nearby crate. He shoved his toe into a crack in the stone and proceeded to climb, pulling himself up over the edge and onto the roof just as Riju was jumping the gap over the alleyway and onto the next roof.

With spear in hand, Dahvi quickly followed behind her, leaping over the gap and landing lightly on his feet. He chased Riju over the rooftops and across the city, ignoring the angry shouts from the Gerudo women below, and back toward the palace. Riju splashed through the waterways, rounding the corner and rushing passed two guards, nearly knocking them to their feet. As Dahvi came around the corner, they reached toward him, eager to stop the child in his tracks, but Dahvi easily dodged them and continued his pursuit.

Riju bounded across the next waterway, scaling another wall with ease, and continued to leap from rooftop to rooftop until she reached the outwater wall of the city. She dropped down into the sandpit where the city’s sandseals napped in the sun and quickly jumped onto the back of one of them, taking the reins and coaxing the lazy creature forward.

Dahvi followed without hesitation, throwing himself onto the closest sand seal and following Riju out of the city and into Gerudo Desert. He urged his sand seal faster until they caught up to Riju, causing her to shout in surprise. They pushed their sand seals faster still, racing west across the desert until they reached the home of Divine Beast Vah Naboris. Only then did they allow their sand seals to slow as the machine towered above them, sitting quietly in the heat of the desert.

“Nice try, Vi,” Riju said as she jumped off her sand seal. She put her hands on her hips and grinned at him. “But you’ll never catch me.”

Dahvi got off his own sand seal and patted its thick neck. “I wasn’t trying very hard,” he said simply.

Riju scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Just face it; you’ll never be one of us.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not Gerudo, either,” he said narrowly. “You’re so short.”

“Shut up!” Riju barked at him. She grabbed a fistful of sand and hurled it at him, but it only sifted through her fingers and blew away in the light breeze.

“Uh oh,” Dahvi started. “Shorty’s mad.”

Riju’s fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not short!”

But Dahvi ignored her and began climbing Vah Naboris. Riju muttered below, but quickly followed suit, eager to beat him to the top. It took a few minutes of careful navigation, but they scaled the beast quickly and easily and soon found themselves seated atop Vah Naboris, looking out over the vast Gerudo Desert and toward Central Hyrule.

“Maybe I’m short,” Riju said after a moment. “But I’m Mom’s favorite.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

Dahvi shrugged one shoulder. “Well, yeah. She’s your mom, not mine.”

Riju frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly.

“I know.”

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Riju said. “You’re my brother.”

Dahvi’s lips pulled into a small, crooked smile. “That sucks.”

Riju grinned and shoved his shoulder. “Shut up, Vi!”

But Dahvi’s smile quickly faded as he looked back out over Hyrule.

“What’s wrong?” Riju asked.

“Nothing,” Dahvi said quickly, then sighed. “I just… don’t belong here.”

Riju frowned. “Yes, you do.”

“I don’t,” he said sharply. “How much longer until Urbosa kicks me out?”

“Vi,” Riju started softly. “She wouldn’t do that to you. You’re family. Gerudo or not, she took you in and she raised you. She wouldn’t kick you out.”

“But I don’t belong,” he insisted. “I’m a Voe, Riju. And I’m not a kid anymore.” His voice lowered. “I’ve heard what they say about me.”

“Shut up,” Riju said through her teeth. “You’re still a kid. No one’s kicking you out, alright?”

Dahvi remained quiet, unconvinced. He was well aware of the laws of the city. Urbosa could not continue to bend the rules just for him. And he knew she wasn’t simply training him in the ways of the Gerudo, but preparing him for a life on his own in Hyrule where he belonged.

He fingered the amulet in his pocket. He had had it for as long as he could remember. It was the only connection he had to his family, though he knew nothing about what the amulet meant. And whenever he inquired about it with Urbosa, she always said the same thing. “You had it on you when we found you as a baby. We hoped we could use it to find your family, but we had no such luck. No one seems to know what it means.”

A part of him sensed that she wasn’t being completely truthful with him; that she did in fact know something about it. He could only assume that up until then, he would have been too young to understand the truth. He had given up on pestering her about it; about his past. But perhaps it was time to bring it to her attention once more. Besides, if he was going to be kicked out of the city, he needed somewhere to go, and some clue as to who he really was.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

Dahvi glanced at Riju. Her brows were furrowed together as she studied him.

“Hm?”

“That thing,” Riju said, indicating the amulet in his pocket.

He played with it a lot as a child and talked to Riju about it, but as they got older, it was clear to him that it only made her upset, and he never took it out since.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re going to ask Mom about it again.”

She knew him too well. He shrugged.

“Look. I’m not trying to be insensitive and all, but whether you like it or not, this is who you are. An adopted Gerudo. Can’t you be happy with that? Not many Voe can say they can hang out with us, yanno. You should feel honored that Mom took you in. This is who you are. This is your family. Stop dwelling on something you don’t even know. That’s not your life. This is.”

Dahvi’s brows knit together. “You talk too much, you know that?”

Riju got to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “I’m insulted that we’re not good enough for you. You dumb Hylians always think you’re better than everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” Dahvi muttered. “Knock it off.”

“You should be grateful that Mom found you before those Yiga did.”

“Maybe,” Dahvi said as he got to his feet. “But if they did, I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

Riju smirked and folded her arms. “Your life would be incomplete without me.”

Dahvi moved to the edge of Vah Naboris and peered over. “Maybe the Rito could have found me.”

“And do you think that would magically give you wings?”

“It would be nice.”

“Unfortunately, you gotta use those two legs of yours like the rest of us.” Riju climbed over the side and began the climb back down. “Last one to the city has to clean seal shit!”

*****

To Riju’s dismay, their mother was waiting for them in the sand pit when they returned, her arms folded across her chest and a brow raised.

“So,” she started as Riju and Dahvi dismounted their seals. “How did your lessons go today?”

“Oh, you know,” Riju started. “We learned things.”

“Is that so?” Urbosa said, a grin pulling at her lips. “So, you weren’t running across the rooftops again?”

Riju shook her head. “Negative, Ma’am.”

Urbosa nodded. “Must have been a different short Gerudo child and her Hylian brother.”

Riju shook her head. “Definitely,” she said. “You know how those Hylian boys are. Nothing but trouble!”

Dahvi muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes when Riju grinned at him.

“Go clean up, Riju,” Urbosa said, dismissing her daughter.

Riju met Dahvi’s gaze for a moment, her eyes narrowing, before she jogged out of the sandpit and into the city.

“I have to make a trip into Hyrule tomorrow,” Urbosa started. “Into the city. I thought you might like to come along and meet Princess Zelda. She’s around your age.”

“You thought I’d like to leave the desert and see what the rest of Hyrule is like? See what other Hylians are like?”

Urbosa frowned. “Dahvi -”

“Maybe you’d like to pawn me off on someone. Force me to be with my own people, because I don’t belong here. I can’t stay here much longer, can I?”

“Dahvi -”

“The way I see it, I don’t really belong anywhere.”

“That’s enough,” Urbosa said sharply. “What has gotten into you?”

Dahvi lowered his gaze. “Sorry,” he muttered, then huffed in exasperation. 

Urbosa hesitated. She, too, pulled her gaze away. “Vi,” she started. “I’m… sorry, too. You’re not wrong. I thought it would be good for you to see more of Hyrule and have a chance to meet other people like you.” She turned her attention back to him and her voice hardened. “But I am not pawning you off on anyone, do you understand?” When Dahvi met her gaze, her voice softened. “Gerudo City is your home, Dahvi. You will always have a home here, no matter what.”

“You can’t keep bending the rules for me,” Dahvi muttered. “I’m not a child anymore. You can’t treat me like I am. I know what the laws are, here. I know Voe are not allowed, and I am a Voe.”

“That may be,” Urbosa started. “But Gerudo or not, you are family. You are just as much my son as Riju is my daughter. Besides, you know that Gerudo Voe do exist. Every one hundred years, a Gerudo boy is born into -”

“But I am not Gerudo,” Dahvi said. “No matter what you say.”

Urbosa was quiet for a moment as she regarded him. “What do you want to do, Vi?”

Dahvi fingered the amulet in his pocket once more and tore his gaze away from Urbosa. “I don’t know,” he said softly. It was the truth. He was torn; torn between wanting to stay in Gerudo City and the life he knew, and wanting to go out into the world and embrace who he really was. He knew the laws in Gerudo City were strict; he was no exception to those laws, no matter how hard Urbosa wanted it. And the older he got, the clearer it became. He didn’t want to be the reason for discourse among the Gerudo. But for a while, he belonged there. He didn’t know if he would ever belong with the Hylians.

“You are much too young to worry about this now,” Urbosa said softly. “In time, we will discuss it. But you will not be kicked out of the city and abandoned, do you understand me? When the time comes, the choice to leave will be yours. But I cannot keep you locked up here in the city, either. I’ve taught you everything I could, but now I think it may be in your best interest to learn about the rest of Hyrule. Only with knowledge can you make an informed decision on how you wish to live your life. But if you’re not ready, I will not force you.”

Dahvi met Urbosa’s gaze. He knew she only wanted what was best for him. He believed her words. Not once had she abandoned him. And she was probably right; he couldn’t ignore the rest of the world forever. He couldn’t ignore who he was. That was what he wanted after all, wasn’t it? To see Hyrule? To meet other Hylians? Urbosa wasn’t throwing him to the mercy of the world; she was giving him a choice. And a part of him felt it was his duty to do this; not only to himself, but for the Gerudo. Someday, he would need to leave Gerudo City. He should know what Hyrule was like before that day came.

[siriussly-serious]

Welp...

Today, someone called me a nigger. We’ll get to that part, but first let me set up the whole scenario. Mobile users who don’t have the option to click ‘read more’ sorry in advance.

So....

Last night,I said that I was gonna get shit done today. I was gonna take Mars to nursery and while she’s there I planned to clean the cave that is my flat. Day started well, but then I realized that I forgot my phone, and then I forgot that I needed to buy things for Mars’ lunchbox, so I had to stop on the way. So, I’ve only left myself 10 minutes to be on time. So we’re walking, an absolute cum stain of a man walks by me, makes a long ‘s’ sound, and then just throws the word out there. Not very loud, but there are people around, so I’m sure the giant cluster of white people we were in proximity with heard. So, the way he says it, it’s supposed to sound like he’s saying snigger, I can assure you, he’s not. Then his friend says it again.

Now, a few things happened in the space of about 3 seconds. I’m walking fast because we’re late for nursery so first I wonder if I misheard him. I didn’t. Then I wonder if he was just casually using the word snigger in a sentence. He was not. Then I wonder if he has tourettes and it’s just something he can’t help. It is not. I’ve known people with tourettes. It’s not that. Then I look down at my three year old child, in her buggy, excitedly pointing out things and shouting ‘halloween’ and I’m wondering if she heard. Then I’m wondering if anyone else heard. Then I’m fucking furious. I spent the next 7 minutes walking to nursery in silence.

A few things I’d like to point out. I didn’t look at him prior. I didn’t knock into him, or touch him in anyway. I didn’t even notice he was there until he opened his mouth. It’s also worth mentioning that on an every day basis, I get misgendered, it’s a RARE day when someone uses the right pronouns, so from his point of view, I’m a 4″11 woman, with a toddler (a talking toddler who clearly will understand the things she hears), minding her own business and he thinks it’s a good time to say that word.

Anyway I get there....and it’s half term. I have a dentist appointment and I’m wondering if Mars is going to be quiet for the entire time we’re there because like I said I’ve forgotten my phone, there’s no play area or anything so I have no way to distract her while I’m in the chair.

It’s at this point that I started crying.

For a few reasons. First, I was so fucking angry that some man who was worth less that the shit on the street had made me so angry, then I was upset that my child was living in a word where people still think it’s a funny word to use. I was frustrated because I already felt like a bad parent for forgetting to have shit for Mars’ lunchbox ready and not checking term times.

A few things happen when something like that happens. You immediately look at people differently. It’s not uncommon for me to catch someone’s eye just in passing so I’ll offer then a subtle smile in a way of saying ‘good morning’, sometimes they don’t smile back and I think ‘rude person’, today I’d think ‘are they not smiling because I’m black’. If Marley knocks into someone and they don’t smile, I might think ‘that person doesn’t like children’, today I’d think ‘is it because she’s perceived as a black child’. (She’s actually duel heritage, her doner is white.) So, while I’d have loved to just vanish and be home where I’m happy and safe, I have to walk to the dentist (seeing no poc people, people think I’m joking when I say there aren’t many poc where I live), then I go to my dentist where the entire staff team that I see are white, and walk back home through town and be swarmed by the people I can’t help feeling are looking at me. I’m sure they won’t, but paranoia sky rockets, yanno.

Marley was a fucking dream at the Dentist. She sat down, at her lunch, went outside with the assistant when they had to xray my mouth, and she was just a fucking angel. The assistant was lovely with her, and made me not hate everyone so much. The dentist didn’t make me feel like shit for needing a filling, and then I started walking home.

While I was walking home, I started thinking about a cluster of things. First being how I always laugh at people who are surprised when I tell them that racism is still a thing. They’re even more stunned when I tell them that it happens to me all the time. Then I started thinking about the recent times people have been racist, including walking to the bus stop at night, and some guy (who thought I wouldn’t stop and confront him) says “You’re fit for a black bird.” Needless to say, I stopped, and made him feel like the tiniest little piece of shit in front of his friends. That didn’t stop him from shouting ‘nigger’ and when I pulled him up on it again, he said “It’s song! Don’t be sensitive. Racism isn’t just about the colour of your skin. It’s about disabilities as well.” I don’t even have time to start talking about how fucking stupid that is. Then when me and a cluster of people this piss puddle kept insulting went to get a cab, he followed us all the way shouting ‘nigger’ and ‘fag’ at me and this gay guy we’d befriended.

Then I started thinking about the first time someone used that word against me. I was maybe...6/7 years old, in the park with my other black friend. We were stood by the slide and a little boy kept kicking me for no reason. I told him to stop, he didn’t. He did it another few times, and so I grabbed his leg and gave it a tug. He fell on his butt, but he wasn’t hurt. Then I got on the swings and his mother looked at me and loud enough for me to hear from however high up I was says “That’s one thing I can’t stand. Niggers.” It’s at this point, I’d like to point out that this woman....was also black. I immediately got off the swing, grabbed my friend and went home to tell my mum. My mum was in the middle of doing her hair, so she had a fucking plastic bag on her head, but she grabbed her keys and left the house to find this woman, then proceeded to cuss her out in the street. This woman, tried to explain why she’d used that word, and my mum was having none of it. That’s when I knew that my mum was a fucking superhero.

I remember hanging out with my friends and being invited someone then one of them saying “Is your grandad gonna be alright with Jay because they’re black?”

I remember watching Roots in high school and white people looking at me and the rest of the black people in our class nervously.

It sucks that I have to be prepared for at some point my little sunshine bum, who sees the good in everyone, is gonna come home one day and say that someone was mean to her because of her beautiful perfect radiant skin colour.

So, in case you’re wondering if racism is still a thing...yes.

In case you’re still on the fence on why Black Panther was such a big deal...shut up.

In case you think that ‘nigger’ is a funny word, or using it in such a way that you might be able to defend it by saying ‘it’s a song’ or ‘I was saying something that sounds like it’ when you blatantly weren’t, you deserve nothing. Absolutely nothing.

People like that don’t deserve happiness. They don’t deserve luck. They don’t deserve friends. They deserve sadness, loneliness and segregation from the rest of the planet because mother earth doesn’t deserve to be polluted by that brand of human.

So yeah...that’s it... Sorry about the lack of punctuation, probably grammar and let’s throw spelling in there too.

Maybe it’s cause I’m black...yanno...

[greenishbucket]

We’ll Find a Way to Survive

Lardo and graduation. 1.8k, ao3.

Inspired by @jack-manpain-zimmermann‘s post about Lardo graduating. Hope it was okay to do this! 

It’s a Thursday evening and Lardo is sitting with her legs on her desk, a bowl of tomato rice in her lap that’s been in the fridge for at least four days and is starting to taste kinda funky, wrapped in a hoodie even though it’s warm because whatever. It feels comforting to be wrapped up. She has three texts from her mom and two from her dad that she’s been ignoring for three days, even though they’re just sweet updates on life at home.

Shitty is talking fast on Skype about some asshole in his class. Lardo’s pretty sure it’s the same dick that comes up every week when Shitty has a two-hour class with the dude but he really is a dick so she lets Shitty get it all out even when he’s recycling the same criticisms again. He still looks grey around the eyes and she can see three coffee cups from different stores on his bedside table. His hair needs washing and it’s pretty fucking ridiculous but Lardo can’t look away from how the greasy look falls differently now Shitty hasn’t got a flow.

When Lardo had first cut Shitty’s hair it had been funny at first, chilling in the bathroom while Shitty had showered then brushing his hair out with a comb and hacking it into all the ugliest styles she could think of with threats to leave it like that. He’d laughed and said hockey players were, like, contractually obliged to have ugly as fuck haircuts so she’d better pull through on that.

Neither of them had given voice to the fact Shitty wasn’t going to be a hockey player anymore but they had fallen quiet as Lardo carried on cutting his hair into a respectable attempt at what he’d called a ‘neutral upstanding lawyer bro-do’. When she was done they’d looked in the bathroom mirror, Lardo on a stool for height and her head head poking out over Shitty’s shoulder, and Shitty’s mouth had been shut tight like he didn’t trust himself to speak, his eyes a little watery.

Lardo had wanted to kiss the top of his head, or something, but they weren’t like that yet. Or they were because what was personal space even but Lardo didn’t know if she could do it like they were still just bros, felt like maybe it would come across too heavy. Shitty had barely even looked like himself without the flow, the back and sides of his neck paler and vulnerable looking where they hadn’t seen steady sun in years. It was too much and Lardo hadn’t wanted to start crying about shit so she’d given him a noogie instead and then called him a nerd and the moment had broken.

Now all the feeling about his flow comes rushing back. Graduation is right around the corner and Lardo has literally fuck all planned and she’s fucked it all up and her parents are breathing down her neck about how she hasn’t got a job as a doctor or some shit lined up for after Samwell even though she’s an art major and she misses having Shitty here in the Haus with her to talk some gender shit and smoke with her in the reading room when the stress was too much. Now they’re all growing up and having to move out and on and Shitty won’t be able to grow his flow back for years if ever and Lardo is fucking dreading the end of the year so much because literally what is she going to do?

She’s halfway through a mouthful of tomato rice and Shitty is still ranting about the asshole dude when she realises her throat is almost too tight to swallow and, jeez, she’s actually crying.

“Dude, Lards – are you crying?”

“No,” Lardo says with as much force as she can while crying and talking around a half-chewed bowl of tomato rice. She spits it back into the bowl which is gross but whatever, it tasted weird already and it’s not like she’s sharing the rice with anyone else.

Shitty kindly ignores the rice spitting. “Hey, talk to me, bro. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

A sigh. “Lards.”

“Nothing.”

“Lardo, come on.”

“Shits, it’s nothing you can fucking fix, okay? Leave it.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not saying let me fix all your problems,” Shitty says, looking if anything more tired and that’s the last thing Lardo wanted. “I’m saying talk to me, let all that negative shit out. Bawling in the middle of me sharing the latest horrors of law school is pretty fucking standard but dude’s been worse and you haven’t started the waterworks so I’m thinking it’s not the current and future state of our legal system that’s got you crying, not that I’d judge you if it was.”

Lardo pushes through the shit-ton of crap that’s been building on her desk for weeks in search of a tissue then wipes her eyes and messily blows her nose when she finds a vaguely clean one. She doesn’t feel better really but the short burst of crying has taken some of the pressure off, reduced the stress to kinda-manageable instead of holy-fuck-what-do-I-do. She takes a long gulp of her water before she starts to talk.

“It’s just like, all this graduation shit that I really don’t wanna deal with. I have no idea what I’m doing and me and Rans used to be, like, bros in that but now even he’s sorted and I’m still not and all the other art kids have had plans since day one because apparently that’s what you’ve gotta have if you get a degree in art and no one told me. I don’t know where I’m supposed to live except move back to my parents which would be fine because I’d be nearer you and they’re my parents, y’know, but they’re all ‘Larissa, we just want what’s best for you but also you gotta do this exact thing that we decided was best’ and ‘Larissa, your art is so interesting but how are you gonna move forward with it’ and like– fuck.”

Lardo’s heart is beating hard against her ribs and her hands are shaking with the adrenaline of letting it all out. She wipes her eyes again and continues, unable to look at the screen but before she can overthink it: “I just miss getting to hang out with you every day and now I won’t even have these guys to hang out with anymore and it’s all gonna suck and I hate it.”

Her room still feels lonely and cold even as the sounds of the Haus carry on all around but it’s a little less than before and Lardo’s chest feels a lot lighter. She scoops up some of her saliva-tomato-rice and shoves it in her mouth, still keeping her eyes on the floorboards.

“Bro,” Shitty says after a moment. When she looks up, his eyebrows are reaching his hairline. “Like, Lards.”

“I know, it’s all my fault because I should’ve organised better but you get why it sucks, right?”

Shitty makes a spluttering noise and says, “Fucking hell, no way. It’s not your fault art is undervalued by capitalist society and you’ve got parents with expectations and shit, I’m saying holy shit, man, you do not need to be getting so tied up with this and if you are you gotta let someone know before you’re choking on your tomato rice.”

“But there’s like a bazillion things I need to sort and I don’t even know how to do any of it,” Lardo says. “Like, how do I just make myself have direction in life and shit?”

Shitty’s leaning in close to the camera, tucked with his knees up on his desk chair and laptop balancing on top judging by the way its shaking every now and again, and Lardo wishes she’d thought ahead to keep this meltdown until they’d been together in person. Talking over Skype is still better than phoning but – not to be a baby – Lardo could do with a hug.

“You gotta just go with the flow, at least half the people graduating don’t know what they’re doing.”

“That’s your advice? Chill? Are you Nursey?”

“Hand on heart, swear to fuck, the dude’s onto something with that one. Why panic?”

Lardo can feel herself getting irritated and she hates that her fuse is so short these days but what does Shitty know about trying to figure out graduation, he got into fucking Harvard Law and his mom is a like a hippie or something and is all about self-actualisation and shit.

“I have no time to figure out all my shit and jobs are already getting back to people and I’ve wasted a fuck-ton of money on a degree I don’t know what to do with,” she says, carefully steady.

“And you’ve got your whole life to figure something out, bro. Graduating is sad and scary as fuck but, let me tell you, it feels amazing. The ‘swawesomest thing to ever happen.”

Lardo sighs. “I know, Shits. I just wanna know what I’m doing.”

Shitty puts the laptop back on his desk, shifts awkwardly in his chair. “Well, yanno. If you wanted you could come split rent with me while you work shit out. Your parents would probably be cool with it and you’re probs overqualified for all the retail jobs and whatever you could get. You could look into grad school shit, too.”

Lardo feels herself tearing up again. “Shits.”

Shitty shrugs like he hasn’t probably thought it over for months and mumbles, “Only if you wanna, man. It’d be pretty fucking great to have you.”

“Shut up, I’d be coming for that crazy good BU painting and sculpture MFA program,” Lardo says, meaning yes yes yes please and thank you.

“Got your back, bro,” Shitty says, meaning love you.

They grin stupidly at each other for a bit over the pixelated screen. Lardo’s still wrapped up in a hoodie, spit-filled decaying rice for dinner, head pulsing with crying and her face itchy with tears and it’s all still unclear as fuck but at least there’s something now. The beginnings of a plan. Lardo still can’t believe sometimes that she really gets to date her best friend, they’re really doing this and it’s as good as she’d ever hoped. It seems stupid now to think she had to go this alone, when Shitty’s sitting with her after a long as fuck day and giving her a reality check.

“God, I wish we could make out now,” she says because sure, romance, but God she wishes they could make out now.

“Oh fuck, me too,” Shitty says, expression still concerned and she knows he’s probs going to be carrying some guilt about not noticing she was feeling bad and he’ll crack the closer to deadlines they get but she’ll have his back too when it all gets too much for him. “When are you visiting again?” he asks.

Lardo pulls out her calendar from her desk of crap and for once the circled graduation day, still some rows down, doesn’t make her feel quite as much tight, sucking anxiety. Her and Shits compare their schedules and she breathes easy.

[marypsue]

Death of the Author 2 / 3

I am, as ever, guilty of story bloat. My planned last chapter of this fic has had to be split into two. Hey, on the bright side: more fic!

I forgot to add a warning the first time around, but this chapter contains some prime examples of Gideon being his particular brand of awful towards Mabel. Tread carefully if that’ll affect you. Also, I owe all credit to @seiya234 for the golf cart.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

"Look at us. When'd we get so old?"

Ford looked over, meeting her brother's eyes in the mirror. "You look like Dad."

"Eugh, don't say that," Stan said, with an exaggerated shudder. 

There was a moment of silence, peaceful, almost companionable. Ford was just beginning to wonder if this was the time to break it when Stan said, awkwardly, holding his own gaze in the mirror as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck; "So, you're a woman now."

"Actually -" It was probably the best she was going to get, Ford decided, biting back the words that gathered at the back of her throat. "Yes." There was nothing to be ashamed of, she knew, but her borrowed turtleneck still felt suddenly too large and filled with prickly heat.

Stan nodded, still not meeting Ford's eyes. "Gotta say, I wouldn'ta seen that one coming." 

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Nothing, I just -" Stan raised both hands defensively, still not looking Ford in the eye. "Knew some girls like that, back when I was living rough. Hell, I woulda died outside a bar in New Orleans in '76 if it weren't for a couple queens in evening gloves and tiaras. Just...never woulda pegged you as the type. I still gotta wrap my head around it. How'd you end up figuring that one out, anyway? I woulda thought after seventeen years living with Dad -"

"You don't need to understand, Stanley." Maybe it was unnecessarily rude, but then, her brother never had been one for subtleties, and Ford just needed him to stop before he strayed too close to the truth and the bitter memories she'd rather try to forget. "You just need to accept that this is the way things are. The way I am." So that we can all move on to more important things, Ford's brain supplied, the memory of the dollop of starry spacetime slowly undulating in a glass containment device in the basement below them rising once again to the forefront of her thoughts.

The last thing Ford expected Stan to do was give a sheepish chuckle. "You know, that's almost exactly what Mabel said?"

"What? When -"

"Night the kids got here. I mean, the parents explained a bit when they asked me to take 'em, but Mabel was the one to sit me down and give me the crash course." Stan huffed out a laugh. “Lotta things changed since the seventies.”

Ford's mind whirled, playing back all the many, many changes to her home dimension that she'd been forced to process immediately upon arrival. "Mabel? But I thought Dipper said he -"

"Yeah, yeah, Dip's the one who's transgender or whatever they're calling it now, but..." Stan fixed Ford with a look that made her feel not unlike the first time she'd stood up in front of the grant committee. "That kid's not usually as outgoing as he was with you, you know."

"Me? Why me? He doesn't know me from a - a hole in the ground."

"That's where you're wrong, poindexter. That kid's been hero-worshipping that damn journal of yours all summer." Stan's stare softened, almost imperceptibly, before it turned into a glare. "You're his hero. And so help me, if you let him down, if you hurt those kids, I'll break your stupid glasses. And your nose with 'em."

“What? You can’t honestly think I would ever -”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest, staring in the general direction of the mirror instead of turning to face Ford. “I’m just sayin’, last time I tried to help you we nearly both got sucked into that portal of yours. Just stay away from those kids. I don’t want them in danger.”

With great effort of will – and, she thought, impressive restraint – Ford managed to bite back the selection of choice words that threatened to slip from her lips. “Fine,” she snapped, instead, turning her back on her brother. “Then you’ll ensure that they stay out of my way.”

It might have been pure spite that made her turn back when she heard the shuffle of Stanley starting to move. “And Stanley? When the summer ends, so does this Mystery Shack nonsense. You give me my house back, you give me my life back -”

“Thought you didn’t want it anymore,” Stan said, coldly, and there was something wrong with his voice. It was just slightly...off, as though Ford had tried to reconstruct his tone and cadence from –

...memory...

“Stanley?” Ford asked, but her brother only went on, as though his voice was playing from a pre-recorded script.

“You’re not Stanford Pines anymore. I’m Stanford Pines! I’ve been Stanford Pines the last thirty years! And I’ve done a better job of it than you ever did. What’d you accomplish, anyway? Causin’ the end of the world?”

“Stop it,” Ford said shortly, and Stan gave a sort of half-laugh, half-snort that had no humour in it.

“Stop what? Telling the truth? You don’t belong here anymore. There’s no place for you to fill. Stanley Pines is dead, Stanford Pines is right here. And he sure as hell never had a sister.”

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t – wasn’t how this conversation –

For the first time, Ford looked, not at her brother’s reflection in the glass, but at his face.

Yellow eyes glowed above a massive, wicked grin that looked much too much like the smile that Stanley wore as Mr. Mystery for comfort. Ford took a step back as the imposter turned to face her, still grinning, shoulders back, posture triumphant. Gloating.

“Bill,” Ford hissed, reaching into her coat for a weapon, only to come up empty-handed.

The imposter in front of her winked one slit-pupiled eye, pointing an index finger at her. “GOT IT IN ONE, KID! GOTTA SAY, YOU SURE DO TAKE A WHILE TO CATCH ON!”

“What are you doing here? This isn’t what -” Ford glanced around, a sudden uncertainty trailing chilly fingers up the back of her neck. “Isn’t how I remember it...”

“ISN’T IT, NOW?” Bill said, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy. “WOW, CAN’T IMAGINE WHY THAT MIGHT BE!”

“You. You did this, somehow you tampered with my memory -”

“OH, SIXER, I’M FLATTERED! BUT YOU’RE GIVING ME TOO MUCH CREDIT.” Bill waved one of Stanley’s hands dismissively, before snapping his fingers. The room around Ford suddenly burst into flame, a ring of yellow fire trapping her in close with Bill and the mirror. “NOPE, THAT PESKY BARRIER OF YOURS IS STILL DOING ITS JOB! FOR NOW.”

Ford tried to ignore the way Bill’s voice dropped into a register almost too low for human hearing to detect, the way it rumbled up her legs and thrummed in her lungs. She drew in a deep breath, trying to centre herself, control her fear. “So you’re just doing what you always do. Plaguing me with your ridiculous, pointless nightmares because there’s nothing you can do to touch me.”

Bill shrugged Stan’s shoulders, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling with a mocking grin. Ford glanced up as well, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The twisted, howling faces that emerged from the woodwork would be etched on her imagination for weeks. “HEY, YOU SAY NIGHTMARE, I SAY SNEAK PREVIEW!”

“Sneak...”

Bill’s gaze snapped back onto Ford, like a laser, focused and intent on burning a hole right through her. “REMEMBER HOW I GENEROUSLY WARNED YOU I WAS HAVING SOME FRIENDS OVER?”

Ford shook her head. The memory of the nightmare that had driven her to reveal the rift to Dipper and started this whole blasted chain of events in motion jumped immediately to mind, but she couldn’t quite string it together with what was happening around her now. “You got what you wanted. The rift is open, the world is your plaything, everything we know has changed - what could you possibly be warning me about?”

Bill’s smile, if it were possible, grew even wider, stretching Stan’s face in a way that Ford knew from painful personal experience would leave his jaw aching for days afterwards. She winced in sympathy, and that was when it struck her, like a thunderbolt.

“No,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Bill. “Stanley would never, he’s - he’d see right through you! You have nothing to offer him! He’d never make a deal with you -”

“OH, IS THAT SO?” Bill let out an enormous belly laugh, and the faces on the ceiling howled in an unholy harmony. “IT’S BEEN THIRTY YEARS, SIXER! AND YOU’RE WALKING, TALKING PROOF THAT PEOPLE CHANGE.”

Ford swallowed, hard, past the lump that had appeared, unbidden, in her throat. “You keep your filthy two-dimensional hands off of my brother, or -”

“OR YOU’LL WHAT?” Bill took two steps forward, leering into Ford’s face. She tried to step back, but the ring of flames nipped at her heels, pushing her forward into Bill. “FACE IT, FORDSY, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST! THIS WORLD IS MINE NOW! I CALL THE SHOTS! AND IF I WANT YOUR BROTHER - AND, YANNO, I THINK I DO WANT YOUR BROTHER, HE SEEMS LIKE A FUN GUY! - THEN IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!”

Both of his slit-pupiled, yellow eyes suddenly turned to little clock faces, hands frantically whirring around the hours as he pressed even closer into Ford’s personal space. 

“TICK TOCK, SIXER!” Bill shouted, brightly, with far too much glee.

Ford –

...

Ford jolted awake.

For a long moment, it felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on her chest, crushing the breath out of her. She clawed at her constricting turtleneck with one hand, pressing the other to her mouth even as she tried to drag in a lungful of air, as though she could physically stuff down the cry that was climbing up her throat.

Darkness had gathered around the Shack so gradually that Ford had barely noticed the red light draining from the sky. Now, it seemed as though night had fallen all at once, a blanket of pure dark dropped over the Shack, muffling the distant shrieks and roars from the town. The living room had, she realised, fallen almost silent, the warm dark full of the sounds of soft snores and sleepy mumbles. Nearly every person Dipper had spent the afternoon enthusiastically introducing her to as ‘the author of the Journals, my great-aunt!’ had either trickled out or found bedding somewhere and hunkered down to sleep. Even Dipper's head was bobbing forward, the bottom of his shirt falling out of his slack mouth, and Mabel was curled up wrapped in the STAN SAVIOUR SQUAD banner, passed out across her pig. 

Ford’s lungs finally inflated, and she gasped in a huge gulp of air. She felt nearly boneless with relief, and yet, the darkness still pressed in on her. She could still see Bill’s clock-face eyes set in Stanley’s familiar face hovering before her, the hands racing. Could still hear his jeering voice promising - no. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill might be clever, and devious, and capable of slipping poisoned-honey words into a willing ear like no one Ford had ever met, but still, surely Stanley would never - 

Tick tock.

Ford forced herself to take one long, deep breath, to let it out slowly, listening to her heart gradually calming from its frantic pace. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill was only trying to get to her again, get inside her head. If he’d really been able to get Stanley to join him, he wouldn’t be wasting time on dreams and visions. He would’ve just dragged Stan’s body back to the Shack to gloat. Stan would never fall for Bill’s lies, Stan was - was better than that, was smarter -

She must not have shouted in her sleep, if she hadn't woken the children. Either that, or they were so exhausted that they'd slept right through it.

Regardless, it was well past time they were in bed. Ford took a few more deep breaths before pushing herself to her feet, wincing at the sudden rush of blood from her head. The living room wobbled and flashed bright black and white at the corners of her vision for a moment before everything settled again.

Dipper shook awake the moment Ford put a hand on his shoulder, head snapping up and looking around like a startled deer. "I wasn't asleep!" he protested, dropping the volume of his voice when Mabel sighed and rolled over in her sleep. "I was...contemplating."

Ford couldn't help the smile that stole across her face. "Do you think you could contemplate better from the comfort of your own bed?"

"No, I can do this, I can -" Dipper stopped when Ford gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, sighing and looking down at the carpet by his feet. "I blew it, didn't I." It didn't come out as a question.

"What do you mean, my boy?"

"I don't know, I just -" Dipper threw his hands out helplessly. "It feels like there's something more I should be doing, but I just don't know what, or how, and now you're putting me to bed like a little kid."

Ford bit down on her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She knew exactly what Dipper meant - every second they spent not finding a way to get Stanley back felt like a second wasted. There had to be something that would make Dipper feel less like he was failing, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine what that might be.

If she could, perhaps she’d be feeling a little more hopeful herself.

Finally, she let out a sigh, and lowered herself to sit on the floor beside Dipper, groaning at the stiffness in her knees. “Everyone else is already asleep, we won’t accomplish much by staying up and draining ourselves further. We’ll all need to be at our best to face Bill and whatever surprises he might throw at us tomorrow.” She did her best to swallow down the bitter, sick taste that rose in the back of her mouth at the thought of what those surprises might include.

“I know,” Dipper said dejectedly, rubbing his upper arm and staring down at the floor. 

Ford looked down herself, her eyes wandering until they came to rest on the gentle rise and fall of Mabel’s chest under the banner she’d wrapped herself in. 

“Why don’t you come help me get Mabel to bed,” she said, and Dipper seemed to perk up, just a little. “If you’re still not feeling like sleeping afterwards, we can reconvene here and see if we can find any flaw in the plan that we might have overlooked.”

“Okay,” Dipper conceded, and Ford noticed a small smile had stolen across his face as he watched Mabel and Waddles snoring, though there was still a little wrinkle of worry in his brow. Ford didn’t blame him - the last time they’d watched Mabel sleeping this peacefully, they hadn’t known whether she would ever wake up.

Bill. It all came back to him. Every single person in the Shack, from Fiddleford passed out with his blowtorch in hand over the giant robotic leg he was welding right on down to the plaidypus curled up with the cross-eyed gnome in the corner had lost something - if not everything - to Bill. If it weren’t for Bill, Mabel would never have been forced to see a world where everyone seemed happier without her. If it weren’t for Bill, Dipper wouldn’t have been made to doubt himself like this, wouldn’t be shouldering this burden of responsibility that should never have been his in the first place. (Not when it had been all Ford’s fault, right from the beginning, her folly and her arrogance and her pride -)

If it weren’t for Bill, Stanley would be here with them right now, probably cracking some awful joke and then laughing at his own lack of wit when no one else did. Stanley would be here, aggravating everyone as usual, putting on that showman’s smile to make the children feel better, treating the whole thing like one big joke. Stanley would be safe, and he wouldn’t be - and he would know what to say to make Dipper feel better, and -

None of this would be happening if it weren’t for Bill Cipher.

Ford’s hands clenched into fists without her input, nails digging into the heels of her hands. She tried not to listen to the traitorous little voice in the back of her mind that whispered none of this would be happening if you hadn’t let him in.

“We’re not going to defeat Bill tomorrow,” Ford said, slow, turning her gaze back to Mabel. 

There was a quaver in Dipper’s voice. “We’re, uh, we’re not?”

“No.” Ford slammed one fist into the palm of her other hand. It felt like a river of lava was rising slow through her veins, the heat pulsing in time with her heartbeat. “We’re going to destroy him.”

...

Mabel woke up briefly as Ford carried her up the stairs, her enormous yawn audible even though her face was pressed against Ford’s shoulder. At twelve years old, the twins were almost too tall to comfortably carry, but Ford hadn’t wanted to wake the girl, not when she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. If Ford herself had been able to steal a fraction of that peace in the middle of Weirdmageddon, she wouldn’t have wanted it disturbed.

“Whzfl?” Mabel asked, sleepily, and Dipper piped up before Ford could say anything.

“It’s okay, Mabel, we’re just going up to bed. You fell asleep on Waddles.”

Mabel let out a sigh, her head falling back against Ford’s shoulder. “How late is it?” she asked, sounding a little more awake, though not much.

“Well, according to Bill, time is dead and meaning has no meaning, but I’d say it’s definitely past your bedtime,” Ford answered, drawing a little snort of laughter out of Mabel.

“That means you too, Dipper,” Mabel said, her voice muffled in Ford’s sweater. “I saw you gnawing your shirt.”

“Aw, Mabel,” Dipper protested, but he didn’t try to deny it.

And he didn’t try to resist when they made it up to the attic and Mabel slipped down out of Ford’s arms and pointed...well, pointedly at the bed across the attic from hers. “Bedtime, mister,” she said, and Dipper shook his head, but he was smiling. 

“And that goes for you too!” Mabel added, rounding on Ford. “We’ve got an awesome giant robot house to pilot and an evil geometrical guy to fight tomorrow! You don’t wanna fall asleep in the middle of it! You’ll miss all the fun parts!”

Ford, despite herself, couldn’t help a soft laugh. “You’re right,” she said, nodding in Mabel’s direction. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Mabel echoed, Dipper giving a sheepish wave as Ford stepped out of the attic room and pulled the door closed behind her, careful not to let it slam.

The Shack was eerily still as Ford made her way down the attic stairs. It was strange. She’d lived here, alone, for nearly a decade, and yet, after only a couple of months, it already felt wrong for the place to be so silent.

Ford paused on the second-floor landing, glancing down the hall towards her room before turning towards the stairs down to the main floor. She’d meant what she’d told Dipper. They all needed to be at their best tomorrow. Bill was cunning and vicious - he’d give no quarter, and they wouldn’t get any second chances. Ford knew she ought to try to get some sleep, to make sure that she herself was alert and sharp when their long-delayed confrontation finally came.

That, too, was strange. For years - thirty of them, to be exact - that thought had been Ford’s sole comfort. One day, she would come face-to-face with Bill Cipher for the last time. One day, she would put an end to this game of cat and mouse that they had played for so long, lay all her mistakes to rest, wipe her ledger clean. Even if it meant the end of her as well as Bill.

But now, for the first time, the thought of finally facing Bill filled Ford not with comfort, but with a sick, sinking dread. 

All of her long, hard years of preparation, all of her plans, all of her strategy, it had all come to nothing in a snap of Bill’s fingers. Ford was running blind, while Bill held the upper hand - as, Ford now saw, he always had. The last time she’d prepared herself to face him, she’d been calm, confident. Certain. Now, all she could feel was jittery, buzzing with a nervous energy that bordered on frantic, a need to do something more, something better, something.

Ford knew why. Last time, she’d had a plan. Last time, she’d known what she was doing, what needed to be done. Last time, she’d known - she’d thought - she was equal to the task.

And the last time she’d prepared herself to face Bill, hers had been the only life on the line.

The silent dark of the Shack pressed in on Ford as she stared down the stairs towards the living room, like a smothering, heavy blanket. She tried not to see monsters rising out of the well of shadow at the foot of the stairs, not to hear sinister whispers in the soft snores from the living room. The unicorn-hair barrier should keep them safe, here. Unlike Stanley, who might - who must be facing unimaginable horrors even as Ford tucked the children safely into bed and settled down for the night herself.

The worst part was not knowing. Not knowing what awful things Bill might be doing to Stanley, yes, not knowing what Bill’s game was, why he might be taunting her with the threat of turning Stan against them, but worse, not knowing what to do. Mobilizing the Shack and its protective barrier had been a stroke of genius on Fiddleford's part, an ingenious solution to the problem of how to get to Bill’s pyramid, but what would they do if - when they got there? Ford still hadn’t been able to identify all the members of the prophecy wheel, and the news that Bill’s eyebats had been kidnapping people and turning them to stone meant that she could be missing vital pieces. She didn’t have enough information, didn’t know anything about the people of this town or how to go about learning enough about them to successfully place them on the wheel  - if only Stanley were here, he could have sorted this out in a matter of hours, maybe only minutes, but he wasn’t and anything at all could be happening to him while Ford was busy battering her head against a problem that she had no idea how to even begin to think about solving, but which she still somehow had to solve, or else -

A vision of Stan’s face when Ford had stepped out of the portal, the shocked, disbelieving smile that had spread across it in the seconds before she’d punched him, floated to the surface of Ford’s memory. Her grip on the railing tightened, until she feared she’d give herself splinters.

No. She wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

...

Ford was digging through the hall closet, looking for blankets or pillows or some kind of bedding (and not for illegal fireworks, or a crate of Cuban cigars that, judging from the labels, had been there since the early eighties at the latest, or a painting of a sad clown on black velvet, honestly, Stan) when she heard the front door creak open.

It felt like someone had threaded a live wire down her spine. Ford was instantly awake, alert, listening hard for the slightest sound. The cold stillness of the closet suddenly seemed deathly, every shadow heavy with menace.

Heavy footsteps made the elderly boards of the porch complain softly, and Ford could hear lowered voices, murmuring in thrumming bass tones. She couldn't make out the words, but she hardly needed to. Anyone trying to sneak into the Shack undetected, at this hour, after everyone else was already asleep, couldn't be up to anything good.

Ford tried to ignore the jackhammer beat of her heart, keep her breathing quiet, slow, steady. She took a careful step closer to the door of the closet, scanning the hall before her before reaching up to tug the string to shut off the light.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, a moment that Ford spent watching, tense, for monsters to lunge out of the dark at her, watching afterimages swim in front of her eyes and trying not to mistake them for actual movement. The low mumble of voices from the entryway, thankfully, didn't so much as falter. They must not have noticed the light from the hall, then, to not have been concerned about its disappearance. That was good. That meant Ford still had the element of surprise on her side.

She crept forward, peering out around the closet door. Her night vision was slowly returning, enough so that she could catch a glimpse of movement in the entryway at the end of the hall. Ford sucked in a breath and ducked back behind the door, listening hard for footsteps stomping down the hall towards her hiding place.

Instead of the expected footsteps, though, Ford heard a voice that, despite the fact that she'd only known the speaker for a day, was instantly recognisable.

"And careful with Mabel! I don't want a hair on my marshmalla's head outta place!" Gideon's halfhearted attempt at a whisper turned dismissive as he added, "But if something were to...happen...to that meddlesome twin o' hers, why, well now, wouldn't that just be a shame." His tone made it very clear that he did not, in fact, think this was the case.

Ford bit back the curse she wanted to hurl. Dipper had been right. It had been a trap. And she'd walked right into it, as Bill must have known she'd do, unable to resist playing the hero.

This was no time for self-recriminations, though. The children were in danger. Ford drew her blaster as quickly as she dared, trying not to make a sound, and stepped quietly and deliberately out into the hall.

Every step she took felt like an eternity, every one of her senses screaming as she drew closer and closer to the entryway. The voices fell silent when she was about halfway there, replaced by the creaks and thumps of someone heavy trying to move quietly over the aging floorboards. Ford held her breath, pressing herself against the wall and edging closer to the corner that would let her out into the entry and finally bring her face to face with the intruders.

The thump of heavy footsteps took on a hollow quality, rising up the stairs towards the attic. Ford squeezed the handle of her blaster tight enough to make her knuckles ache, to keep her index finger from tightening on the trigger, and dared to steal a glimpse around the corner. 

The entryway was thronged with - well, Ford hadn’t been in her home dimension for quite some time, but goons were pretty much the same the multiverse over. At least they all appeared to be human, though they also all seemed to be hanging on Gideon’s every word. That couldn’t bode well. It was difficult to tell in the low light just how many there were, but Ford was sure she was badly outnumbered, and, as she’d learned from long experience, charging in now with guns blazing would only take away the one advantage she still had. 

“An’ Fishbait?” Gideon called down the stairs, and Ford had to remind herself to breathe quiet, slow, steady. She hadn’t been spotted yet. She wouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her, give away her element of surprise. But - if that little cretin so much as laid a hand on either Dipper or Mabel - 

Breathe. Quiet. Slow. Steady.

“Yeah, boss?” a nasal voice from the foot of the stairs echoed back, and Ford froze, holding her breath. Whoever was talking was just around the corner she’d just peered around. 

“Don’t you waste too much time on the townies. Just find that unicorn-hair barrier Bill told us about an’ take out a piece, he’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yeah, boss,” the voice agreed, and there was a soft shuffling. The door creaked open, then closed again. Heavy footsteps continued up the stairs, fading as they rose towards the second floor.

Ford drew in another long, steadying breath, clicked her blaster to ‘stun’, and stepped out around the corner.

The two thugs Gideon had left standing in the foyer, one hanging around by the door, one by the staircase, both jumped at Ford’s appearance. The reedier one by the door reached for something at his hip, and Ford lined up, squeezed her eyes shut, and fired a stunning bolt directly into the man’s chest. She opened her eyes just in time to see her target slumped against the wall and the man who had been standing by the stairs staggering backwards, a hand over his eyes, clearly blinded by afterimages from the flash of the stun bolt. Ford fired off another shot in his direction, then hesitated. She wanted nothing more than to charge straight up the stairs after Gideon and his cronies, but - if she let the barrier be broken, then there would be nowhere safe left in Gravity Falls.

Ford muttered a curse that maybe seven other people in this dimension had ever heard uttered aloud, and sprinted for the door.

...

The stairs felt a million miles high. Ford took them two at a time, even though her breath was starting to come hard and her legs burned with every step. Any thought she might have had of stealth or strategy had vanished, reduced to a single, overwhelming focus. All she could think, all she could see, were the terrible possibilities unspooling through her mind. Perhaps she’d stopped the objectively greater threat, for the moment, but she couldn’t tell that to the lump in her throat or the frantic thump of her heart.

She hadn’t made it to the top of the attic stairs before every last one of her fears burst to technicolour life at the sound of Mabel’s shout.

“Let go of me, you - you - you big gorilla!”

“You won’t get away with this, Gideon!” Dipper yelled, from somewhere at the top of the attic stairs. Ford hit the landing at a dead run, crossing it in two steps.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dipper Pines,” Gideon’s smarmy voice echoed down the stairs that Ford was climbing, smug and triumphant. “I already have! Turns out that li’l ol’ barrier y’all were so proud of sure don’t work so well on humanfolk, does it? All I have to do is give the signal, and Bill’s eyebats’ll be all over this ol’ place like flies on a cowpat. And my oh my, but unicorn hair’s such a fragile material. Don’t you agree? Why, anythin’ could just...happen...to it.”

“You monster!” Mabel gasped, her voice muffled by the attic door.

“Scream all you want, sugarplum,” Gideon giggled. “Nobody’s comin’ to help you -”

“Wrong,” Ford said, flinging the attic door wide. Her head felt curiously light, but at least her aim was steady as she stepped into the room, pointing her blaster directly at the dead centre of Gideon’s head. “Put the children down. Carefully,” she added, when the pale-eyed goon carrying Dipper under one arm and Mabel under the other looked suspiciously like he was about to drop them both unceremoniously to the floor.

“Well, well,” Gideon said, turning slowly in place to face Ford. “Seems I spoke too soon. Evenin’, Stanford.”

“Just Ford,” Ford snapped. “I said, let Dipper and Mabel go.”

Gideon tapped a fat finger against his chin, his smile growing as he pantomimed thought. “Hm, no, I’m thinkin’ not.” He held up both hands and clapped them, twice, and Dipper’s shout came just a moment too late. 

“Great-aunt Ford, look out -”

The blow collided with the back of Ford's head like a thunderclap. She barely had time to wonder which of Gideon’s cronies had snuck up behind her, and how, before the world went dark.

...

A low rumble was the first thing Ford was aware of, a deep bass buzz vibrating up through her bones and rattling her teeth. Slowly, the rumble solidified into engine roar and the rattle of wheels over gravel. The floor jolted and shivered underneath her, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs more than once.

Ford opened her eyes.

The sky overhead was reddening with early dawn light. Ford had seen some truly spectacular skies in her thirty years of wandering, but none quite like this. It looked like some particularly deranged - and tasteless - set designer had slapped it together for a Grand Guignol opera. The whole thing seemed awash in blood, save for the eye-searing pus-yellow shimmer of the rift hovering above the black pyramid. The whole sky glared like a gaping wound.

It was a little difficult to see properly, however, because of the bars and the roof of the cage obscuring her vision.

“A cage?” Ford sputtered, pushing herself up off of the bouncing metal floor to grab at the bars, in the faint hope that she might find one loose, or illusory, or discover some other means of escape. She had no such luck. All she got was a clear view of the rough ground bumping away behind her. Apparently the floor was rattling because it was, in fact, the bed of a heavily-modified pickup truck. A cage! There were many things Ford could name that would be more humiliating and demeaning, but with solid metal bars between her and the outside world, none sprang to mind.

“Yeah. I tried to tell Gideon it was kind of overkill,” Dipper’s voice said, and Ford let go of the bars to spin around. Her great-nephew was sitting slumped against the bars at the back of the cage, his hat tipped down to cover his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s...kind of a drama queen.”

So Gideon had them. Which meant that they were being delivered, gift-wrapped, to Bill Cipher.

Ford gripped the bars behind her for support, suddenly feeling as though all of her strength had bled right out of her in between breaths. For a moment, everything seemed to settle down on her, like layers of sediment, leaving her immobile, fossilised. 

Ford reached down to draw her coat tighter around herself, only to discover that it wasn't there. A frantic search revealed that her weapons had been taken as well, even the small laser knife she kept strapped to her ankle. Certainly, it didn't actually leave her defenceless - she was perfectly capable of killing another being in hand-to-hand combat, if it came to it - but that didn't stop the firework-bursts of panic that slashed between her ribs and splashed against the back of her skull. Her own movements felt strange, disconnected, as though she'd been divorced from her body. As though she'd been forced out of it -

She drew in another breath, as long and deep as she dared with the thick dust and wafts of sulphur and cotton candy on the wind, feeling the roughness of the bars digging into her palms.

When she trusted her voice again, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Dipper shrugged one shoulder. He didn’t look up. 

“Mabel...?” Ford asked, looking around the small enclosure, though she already knew what she’d find.

“She’s up front with him,” Dipper spat, raising his head for the first time as he jerked a thumb towards the narrow window a little ways above his head. “Gideon didn’t wanna let her out of his sight.”

Ford nodded. It felt like all she could do. She didn’t want to voice what she knew they both must be thinking. 

The weight of their situation, the true depths of her failure, still threatened to fall on Ford, crushing her utterly, but just as she had so many times before, she managed to force it aside. No one else was coming to save them. There was no one to rely on but herself. She couldn’t let Dipper down. She couldn’t afford to break.

“All right,” Ford said, the gears of her mind slowly, ponderously grinding back into motion. “We need to get out of here, find some way to liberate Mabel -” A thought struck her, and she paused, before crossing the bed of the truck in two strides to peer in through its narrow back window. “Gideon mentioned something about Bill wanting us. It would only make sense that that would be where he’s delivering us. If we can take control of this vehicle, perhaps we can use it to enter Bill’s lair undetected.”

“That’s a great idea!” Dipper said, pushing back his hat as he looked up, the ghost of a smile slipping across his face. It vanished as he went on, though, along with the note of hope that had momentarily lit up his voice. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. I had a look around while you were unconscious, and this thing is locked up pretty tight. I think they welded these bars straight into the frame of the truck.”

Ford gave the back window a cautious push with the pads of her fingers. It felt as thick as it looked, solid, difficult to shatter without being able to get a good wind-up for fear of hitting the bars instead. There was no give in it to suggest that it might be, if not shattered, then popped out of its setting by a well-thrust elbow. And even if she could damage or remove the window somehow, she wouldn't be able to reach far enough across the back seat to get at the driver or Gideon in the front seat. If she only had some kind of weapon - !

“Ugh! Why can’t you just leave us alone!” Mabel’s voice rose, and Ford shifted her attention to the glowing purple thing in the backseat. She’d overlooked it before because it didn’t seem like anything that might help them escape, but now that she saw what it was, it took everything in her not to punch the glass despite knowing how little good it was likely to do.

Mabel was caged, too, locked up in an elegant, scrollwork birdcage just barely big enough for her to sit up in, a huge, triangular padlock marked with a shooting star sealing it closed. She was hugging her knees, her sweater stretched out over them. Ford couldn’t see her face, but she was certain it was a picture of misery.

Gideon spun as best he could in his carseat, pressing a hand against the lapel of his powder-blue suit with a look of put-upon patience. “Mabel, dumplin’, I’m doin’ this for us -”

“There is no us!” Mabel exploded, waving both arms through the bars of the cage so violently that it nearly slid off the backseat. “Gideon, I liked being your friend, but I don’t even want to be that anymore! This is, like, the third time you’ve tried to kill my whole entire family!”

“Fourth,” Dipper muttered, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to where Ford was standing, pulling himself up on tiptoes to peer into the cab of the truck. 

Mabel plunged onwards, clearly unable to hear Dipper’s addition. “What made you think that hurting the people I care about would ever make me like you more?”

Gideon looked stunned, like Mabel had hit him across the face rather than just shouted at him. “They - they were comin’ between us -”

“The only thing ‘coming between us’ is you being a big, creepy jerk!” Mabel took a deep breath, her voice lowering in volume enough that Ford had to strain to hear her next words over the rumble of the truck’s engine and the rattle of the gravel underneath its wheel. What she lacked in volume, however, Mabel more than made up for in intensity. “And if you turn us over to Bill and stop us from rescuing Grunkle Stan - I will never stop hating you! Ever ever ever!”

“Mabel -”

“Ever!”

“Wow, go Mabel!” Dipper said, softly, and Ford looked down to see him beaming from ear to ear. 

Gideon, for his part, looked almost at a loss for words. He reached carefully out towards Mabel, only for her to cross her arms over her chest and toss her head, turning away from him. 

“Well...well,” Gideon started, weakly, sounding a little rattled, but growing in confidence with each word. “I’m certain we can do somethin’ about that. Bill is the master of the mind, after all.”

“What, so your response to her saying she doesn’t want anything to do with you because you’re a creepy jerk is to double down on being a creepy jerk?” Dipper spat, in apparent disbelief. “Cause, no offense, but that hasn’t exactly been a winning strategy for you so far.” He let out an enormous sigh, spinning to lean against the back wall of the truck and pressing the heels of both hands against his eyes. “Okay. We gotta do something, we gotta get Mabel out of there before -”

He cut his own sentence short. Ford looked up, peering past the bars. The floating black pyramid seemed closer, now, looming huge and menacing in the sky ahead.

For the first time, she turned her attention to their surroundings beyond the bars that held them in. Ford didn’t recognise the land they were driving through as part of the town or the surrounding forests - they seemed to have been abruptly transplanted to a red-dust desert scattered with the occasional ruins scrawled with ominous graffiti featuring Bill's single, watchful eye, the heat rising off of the barren ground stifling even from her position above it. Clouds of dust kicked up by the vehicles that flanked them made it difficult to see much, but it appeared that they were in the middle of a convoy of heavily-modified cars and trucks, covered in spikes and graffiti and a truly improbable array of weaponry. Ford thought she caught a glimpse of the water tower stalking on stilt-legs off to their left, but through the dust and the huge, multicoloured bubbles that hung heavy in the air, she couldn’t quite be sure.

The shattered, elliptical dome of a long building rose out of the dust on their right, and Dipper perked up, crossing the cage to look out between the bars at it. "Hey, that's the mall! Oh man, I didn't even recognise this part of town, Bill really did a number on -"

He stopped, mid-sentence, and nearly shoved his face in between the bars. "Did you see that?!"

Ford hurried over to Dipper's side, staring intently out at the wasteland. She didn't see anything beyond the clouds of dust, the slow roll of the giant bubbles, the single Jeep bristling, hedgehog-like, with spikes flanking them -

Ford blinked.

“Wasn’t there another vehicle -” she started, just as a slender, dark shape flew straight out of one of the enormous bubbles and landed in a crouch on top of the spiny Jeep. Ford watched in amazement as the figure grabbed the frame of the Jeep, kicked up into a handstand, spun 180 degrees, and swung down feet-first through the window, their feet colliding with the driver’s head. The Jeep swerved violently, veered right, then left, then -

“Look out!” Ford shouted, grabbing Dipper and dropping into a crouch just as the Jeep collided, heavily, with the side of the truck they were in. Long, wicked black spikes shot between the bars of the cage, one slicing through the air where, just seconds before, Dipper’s head had been. The truck shuddered at the impact, knocking Ford off her feet and onto the floor of the truckbed. She managed to pick herself back up just as the Jeep slammed into the truck again. 

This time, she didn’t try to get back up.

Shouts from the cab and from the vehicles on their left told Ford that she and Dipper weren’t the only ones who’d noticed the strange figure that had hijacked the Jeep. There was a rumble and a squeal, and the truck slowed, the Jeep and the two flanking vehicles speeding past it as the driver braked, hard. 

“Get us outta here!” Gideon squawked, from the front seat, his voice piercing even over the screech of tires and the shouts coming from the other vehicles. “We gotta get these three to Bill by any means necessary -”

“Way ahead of you, boss,” the driver rumbled, and the truck spun back in the direction it had come, throwing Ford and Dipper both up against the bars. The back of Ford’s head cracked against the metal, causing both to ring and stars to splash in front of her eyes for a second, the sharp smell of copper filling the back of her nose and mouth. She gingerly raised a hand to touch the back of her head, but there was thankfully no blood. 

The truck shot back down the street the way it had come, thumping and rattling over the rough ground. Behind them, Ford watched, with a sinking feeling, as the two other vehicles from their little convoy - a police car with a sheriff’s star inscribed with Bill’s eye spray-painted over the legend on its side and a motorcycle with, somehow, seven wheels - boxed in the spiny Jeep. Whoever their strange assailant was, there seemed to be little doubt that Gideon’s henchmen would make short work of them.

She was just testing the bars that the Jeep had slammed up against for any sign of weakness when the truck suddenly jerked to a halt, right in the middle of the road. Dipper gasped, and then, did the last thing Ford would have expected.

He burst out laughing.

Ford straightened up, peering through the back window of the truck to look out the windshield and see what had forced them to stop. She had to blink several times, trying to make sure there wasn’t simply something in her eye. Even in an apocalyptic wildnerness of Bill’s creation, it still strained credulity to look up and see an enormous set of four wheels, taller than a man (had those come off a tractor?), and, perched on top of an equally hulking chassis like a tiara on the head of a Xenophorian thunderbeast, the body of a golf cart.

“What...?” she asked, and Dipper, beaming from ear to ear, jabbed a finger at the driver of the golf cart, a squat figure also all in black. As Ford watched, the figure unwrapped a scarf from around their face - 

- and waved.

It wasn’t just any golf cart, Ford realised, belatedly. The red-and-yellow flags dangling from the roof and the huge, red question mark painted across the nose clearly marked it as the golf cart from the Mystery Shack.

“Soos?” she asked, at the same time as Gideon, from the front seat, let out a petulant whine.

“Am I supposed t’know who that is?”

“Soos!” Dipper yelled, jumping up and down and waving his arms, even though Ford doubted the handyman could see him from the angle he was looking down at the truck from. “We’re down here!”

There was no way that Soos could have heard them from all the way up in the golf cart, perched so high above the street, over the rumble and roar of engines, but still, Ford felt inexplicably warmed when he reached out and gave them a thumbs-up.

The golf cart started to roll, ponderously, forwards. 

The truck lurched back into motion, screeching backwards away from the approaching golf cart, and executed a neat three-point turn before squealing away down the street. Or rather, it started to - but the street was barricaded by the cop car, flipped up onto its side to expose its undercarriage. 

"Just go over it!" Gideon shouted, from the cab of the truck. "What's the use of havin' a monster truck if ya don't crush anythin' with it?!"

The driver didn’t move. A second later, Ford could see why.

The slim black figure that she’d seen take over the Jeep straightened up, balancing precariously on the upturned edge of the cop car. They planted their feet shoulder-width apart and their hands on their hips, head thrown back in obvious defiance, their whole being the physical embodiment of a challenge.

Behind them, the golf cart’s horn tooted, a sound that was honestly much more ominous than it had any right to be.

The truck’s engine growled, low and throaty, the floor under Ford’s feet thrumming like some great, caged beast eager to be set loose on some unsuspecting small herbivore. The dark figure stood still atop the cop car, unmoving. Apparently unafraid.

“Ghost Eyes!” Gideon snapped, and the truck roared to life, leaping forward. 

The spiked grate on the front of the truck rammed into the cop car’s exposed undercarriage just as the figure in black jumped. They somersaulted in midair, landing with knees bent on the hood of the truck as it started to climb up and over the toppled cop car. One hand went to its waist, and pulled free a short-handled axe.

The figure in black gave the axe a quick spin in one hand before slamming it down on the windshield. The instant the axe struck against it, the windshield splintered, spiderweb cracks shooting crazily outwards from the point of impact. The driver jerked the wheel hard to the left, but the cop car underneath the truck kept it stuck in place.

 Another blow, and the windshield shattered.

Gideon’s scream, Ford reflected, sounded remarkably like a stuck pig.

“Wendy!” Mabel yelled, throwing herself at the front of her cage, and the figure in black glanced up, waving through the windshield. The moment of distraction seemed to be enough, though, for the driver of the truck to reach through the windshield and punch the dark-clad figure in the side of the head. She toppled off the hood of the truck, vanishing behind the cop car.

“Go go go go go!” Gideon urged, and the driver obliged, stepping on the gas. The truck gave a furious whine, and Ford could feel the wheels spinning under her, but it didn’t move. Part of the cop car must have been wedged underneath it. "Get us outta here, before -"

A shadow fell over the back of the truck, blotting out the eerie red light, and Ford spun to see the golf cart, towering on its absurdly large wheels, bearing steadily down on them. She grabbed the bars of the cage behind her, shouting at Dipper, “Brace yourself!”

The crunch as the golf cart rammed into the back of the truck was nearly deafening. Ford could feel its reverberations through the soles of her feet, traveling up the bars she gripped. The whole truck rocked, wobbling precariously on its perch atop the upturned cop car.

“Soos! What’re you doing?!” Dipper yelled, waving his arms, as the golf cart drew back.

“Hang in there, doods,” Soos called back, over the rumble of engines and the grinding squeal of metal against metal, his rodent-like face set in an expression of grim determination as he revved the engine for another run up on the truck. “I’m gettin’ you outta there!”

Screaming from the cab behind her told Ford that Wendy had most likely gotten back up. Ford paid the sounds no attention.

“Hit it again!” she called up to Soos, who saluted and stomped on the gas. The golf cart jerked forward, bumping into the cage at the very back of the truck, and there was another screech of metal on metal as the bars visibly bowed inwards. One more blow, and one of the bars shot free with a distressing little metallic sigh.

It wasn’t the only thing dislodged by the golf cart, though. With one final, drawn-out scream of metal, the truck slid forward off of the cop car’s undercarriage, teetering for a moment before its front wheels touched ground. The truck shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow, only to lurch to a stop again a moment later, bouncing forward in fits and starts. Ford realised she’d lost track of how many times now she’d been knocked off her feet.

“Give - me - that - key!” Wendy yelled from the cab, punctuated by soft percussive sounds rather like a gloved hand hitting a sack full of water. Gideon’s shrieks sounded remarkably like Mabel’s pig when someone stepped on its tail, Ford reflected, as she helped Dipper out through the hole Soos had made in the cage and down off the bed of the truck.

“Wendy! Dood, we got ‘em!” Soos called, as Ford climbed down off the truck bed herself. She had to stop and cling onto the bars with all her might as the truck gave one last aborted leap forward, then ground to a stop, the engine chugging down. Ford cautiously lowered a foot to the asphalt below her, and then, when the truck didn’t drag her forwards again, hopped all the way down. 

“Not yet!” Wendy shouted back, frustration clear in her voice. “Gideon’s got Mabel in an evil glowing birdcage, and he’s got the key somewhere.” Her voice dropped, and Ford assumed she was talking to the two in the front seat as she continued, “And this little creep is gonna tell me where it is. Right. Now.”

“No!” Gideon screeched, and Ford finally gave in to the temptation to circle around to the front of the truck, hoping for a better view of what was going on inside. The driver appeared to be out cold, probably felled by the blunt end of Wendy’s axe. Wendy herself had pulled off the dark hood she’d been wearing, revealing her face and her ginger hair, and was in the middle of - Ford blinked - giving Gideon a noogie. “I won this time! I won! Bill promised me -”

“Did he promise you Mabel’s heart?” Ford interjected, unable to help herself. “Because you should know that if he said that, he intends to drop the bloody organ in your hands after he removes it from her still-living body.”

Six pairs of eyes all fixed in Ford’s direction, identical perturbed expressions on each face. Ford managed, under the scrutiny, to shrug. “It’s his idea of a pun.”

She assumed the retching noise from the backseat of the truck was coming from Mabel.

Gideon struggled in Wendy’s grip, held as he was under one of her arms with her fist squashing his magnificent pompadour. “You’re a fool, Ford Pines,” he spat, pointing one finger like a brimstone-and-hellfire preacher passing judgement, though the effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that he was under four feet tall and currently being held like a small lapdog. “Bill Cipher coulda been a powerful friend to ya! But instead, you’ve made an even more powerful enemy.”

“What, you?” Dipper asked, sauntering over to Ford’s side. “Cause, uh, full offense, I saw you get taken down by a swarm of termites once.”

“Cursed termites!” Gideon wailed. “An’ I’ll unleash ‘em to plague you and your family even unto the seventh generation if you don’t tell this woman to get her hands off my hair!”

“Yeah, no such luck,” Wendy said, giving Gideon’s pompadour another vicious punch. It made a sad squeaking sound, and then slowly started to deflate, like a popped balloon. “Hand over that key!”

“No!” Gideon protested, kicking his little legs petulantly. “Mabel’s finally mine! You’re not takin’ her away from me again!”

“What? Nobody’s ‘taking’ me anywhere!” Mabel protested, from the back seat. “Ugh! As soon as I get out of this dum-dum cage, you’re in for a world of hurt, Gideon! And that’s a promise!”

“Yep,” Dipper said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his puffy vest and giving Gideon a look that was entirely too pleased with itself. “It definitely sounds like she’s madly in love with you."

“She’ll learn to love me!” Gideon yowled, and Wendy had to let go of the remnants of his pompadour to pin him with both arms so he couldn’t wriggle free. “She’ll have an eternity of captivity to come to her senses and see we’re meant to be -”

“It won’t be eternity,” Ford interjected, over the sharp inhale from Mabel and Dipper’s almost audible fuming. “This dimension has been doomed from the moment Bill Cipher opened that rift. I give it maybe a week - less if Bill keeps warping things, dragging things through from the Nightmare Realm, and widening the rift - before it grows too unstable to sustain its own existence and collapses, taking everyone and everything inside of it with it.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a distant, inhuman screech.

“Bill didn’t mention that,” Gideon muttered.

“That’s because he’s a lying dirtbag who just says what he thinks you want to hear to get you to do stuff for him.” Dipper said. “Kinda like a dude on a dating website.”

“And it doesn’t matter anyway!” Mabel piped up, her voice high with righteous fury. “Because I don’t care how long you keep me stuck in a stupid cage, or a stupid dream, or a stupid fancy restaurant where they kill the lobsters in front of you, I am never ever ever gonna date you! I don’t know what part of this is so hard for you! Do I have to do an educational and inspiring musical number?”

“What do I have ta do!?” Gideon exploded right back at her, waving a fist. Wendy scowled halfway between annoyance and discomfort, trying to hold him in place. “I tried bein’ a gentleman! I courted you proper! I removed the obstacles your family placed in our path -”

“You mean you tried to steal my grunkle’s house and kill my brother!” Mabel shouted back.

Gideon ignored her, raising his own voice slightly as he ploughed onwards. “Why won’t you give me just one more chance? Mabel, I promise I’d be good ta you -”

“You put me in a cage! And not the cool kind you can dance in!”

“Just for now!” Gideon protested. “Just until ya love me!”

“I already told you, that is never happening!”

“What d’you want from me? I’ve tried everything!” 

“You haven’t tried being a decent guy!” Ford had known Mabel long enough, now, to recognise the crack running through her anger, the dangerous wobble that meant she was close to tears. “You haven’t tried listening to me. I just want you to leave us alone! I just want you to leave me alone!”

The silence that followed felt like a shoe on the wrong foot, or a sixth finger squeezed into a five-fingered glove - awkward, uncomfortable, and only growing worse with time.

“Dude,” Wendy said, to Gideon, finally. “Key or no key, I am so tempted to just drop-kick you right now.”

“Mabel’s right,” Dipper said, and Ford noticed that the smug look had disappeared from his face, probably the moment Mabel’s voice had started to wobble. “Look. Gideon. You’ve tried everything you can think of to force Mabel to like you, and it’s always backfired. What’ve you got to lose by listening to her for once?”

“Wh- she wanted us to just be friends!” Gideon protested, and perhaps only Ford caught the way Dipper’s stare went hard.

“What, being Mabel’s friend is a bad thing?”

Gideon seemed to struggle for words for a moment, his face growing redder and redder. “Well...no, but -”

“I think Mabel’s a pretty good friend.” Dipper glanced up at Mabel’s cage, and smiled. “Scratch that. Mabel’s an awesome friend. You’d be lucky to have a friend like her. And if someday she decides she likes you as more than a friend?” He shrugged, with both hands still in his vest pocket. “That’s up to her, not you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this summer, it’s that you can’t make somebody love you.”

Ford got the strangest impression that Dipper was looking a little over Gideon’s head, closer to Wendy’s face, when he said, “All you can do is try to be somebody worth loving.”

In the ensuing silence, the driver of the truck let out a soft grunt and twitched. Ford held her breath until the man stopped moving again.

“Well, my my, what a touchin’ speech,” Gideon said, but his usual sickly-sweet sarcasm seemed as deflated as his hair. His gaze turned in Mabel’s direction, and Mabel sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not going to start being your friend again just because you stop trying to murder my family and make me your queen or whatever. You were a major jerky-jerk-jerkface to me, and Grunkle Stan, and Dipper, and - and everybody!” She gave another deep, heavy sigh. “But, if you really do start listening to me, and treating people better, and stop being such a mean jerk...I guess maybe then I could reconsider.”

She raised a hand, one finger extended, like a judge passing down a very important sentencing, and the stars swimming in Gideon’s eyes abruptly shrank. “But! You better show me some rehabilitation first, mister!”

“So wait, am I drop-kicking this dude or what?” Wendy asked. “Cause it’s getting super weird to keep holding him like this.”

Dipper’s gaze flicked over to Gideon, as did Mabel’s. Ford could see sweat beginning to bead on Gideon’s forehead. 

“I -” he started, and then hung his head, dangling limply from Wendy’s grip. His voice dropped in volume until it was nearly inaudible. “I’m in it deep with Bill. You don’t know what he’d do ta me -”

“Actually, we do,” Ford spoke up, and Gideon started, like he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Or at least, I do. I know how much this is to ask of you - I’ve been fighting Bill for the last thirty years.” She gestured ruefully at the wasteland around them, trying to tamp down the burn of the embarrassed flush that started to creep its way up her neck. “You can see how that turned out. But - it’s not too late. Help us send Bill back to his own forsaken realm, reverse the damage he’s done, and save our world.”

Gideon took another long, lingering look in Mabel’s direction.

“Also,” Ford added, folding her hands behind her back, unable to keep the echo of a smile from her face, “I have it on good authority that chicks dig heroes.” 

Gideon didn’t look away from Mabel, until Mabel, visibly uncomfortable, tugged the turtleneck of her sweater up over her face.

“Y’all really think it’s not too late?” he asked, sounding, for the first time, like the child he was.

“To stop Bill? Not as long as I live and breathe,” Ford said, curling the fingers of her right hand so tightly into a fist that her nails bit painfully into the heel of her hand.

“No, I mean -” Gideon gave his head a little shake. “Well, for me. To change.”

Dipper shuffled his feet in the dirt, glancing up at Ford.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Ford said, shooting her great-nephew a smile before turning back to Gideon, “it’s that it’s never too late to change.”

Gideon drew in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly, staring at the ground.

“All right,” he said, finally, thrusting his chin defiantly forwards. “Let’s go save the world!”

“Great,” Wendy said. “Now can I put him down?”

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Howleen Wolf

Read my diary and I’ll make you howl!

On the 18th of July

Mom barked me out of bed this morning saying that I needed to get out of her fur for a few hours. It was that or help her with housework, and since yesterday I spent all day sweeping the attic.... sooo much dust!... I was out of the doggie-door before she could say boo. It’s hard not to feel screeching jealous of Clawd and Clawdeen, cause they always seem to be busy during the summer while I’m stuck at home playing cobweb cleanup. It’s tough being the little sister of two of the most popular monsters on campus - Clawdeen has her pack of friends, and Clawd has his bluddies and Draculaura, too. Meanwhile I texted my beast friend, Twyla, to see if she wanted to come lurk in the park with me today, but she can be pretty nocturnal. Not that I mind moonlighting with her, but sometimes a ghoul wants to get out in the sun, yanno? I took my soccer ball and got some solo practice in, but it’s just not as clawsome by yourself... it made me feel kind of lame, actually. I did see Venus sitting by the trees at on end of the park, but it seemed like she was having a really intense conversation with the oaks and I didn’t want to interrupt. I like Venus, but you have to watch out for her when she’s on the environmental warpath, or she’ll totally talk your ear off. Anyway, after a little while I got distracted listening... okay, eavesdropping... on her (who knew trees had so much drama?) and kicked the ball onto the casketball court where some older monsters were playing. They got fangry, and I wound up packing up and going home with my tail between my legs. Now I wish I’d ignored them and kept playing, cause now I’m bored again. Sooo. Boooored. I’d even listen to Venus lecture me about the dangers of styrofoam... at least it would be something to do!

On the 23rd of July

It’s hard not to feel funky when everyone besides me has things figured out for themselves. Clawdeen has fashion and Clawd has sports, and they both seem to just know what they want. Mom and Dad say I shouldn’t compare myself to them, or anyone else, but that’s such parent advice that I don’t feel like it should count. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know what I want to do... well, okay, it IS that, but it’s also that I want to do everything?? Like, once I spent two weeks trying to make a viral video for FrightTube. Then the week after that I decided that it was totally my destiny to be a superstar singer. Then three weeks later I was totally focused on my future as a Howlympian athlete! And I haven’t stopped wanting to do any of that stuff, but it’s too hard to do it all, and impossible to pick only one, especially cause I don’t know what I’m really good at yet. I feel like I’m getting to a point where I choose or I lose. I mean, what if I discover my hidden talents too late to do anything with them? It’d be so, so tragic. That’s why I’ve been trying so much different stuff this year - music lessons, dance class, everything I can get my claws on. Something will click sooner or later, right?

On the 29th of July

Today I heard... okay maybe eavesdropped on... Draculaura telling Clawd about a big open mic poetry scream going on at the Coffin Bean at the end of the summer. I went on their web site page to check it out, and now I think I might want to try it out, too? I mean I’ve written some poetry, and I’m always accidentally rhyming all the time. And my hip-hop dance classes have totally infused me with the muse... see what I mean? Yeah... I think I want to do this! But I gotta text Twyla and see if she’ll come out for moral support. It’s at night, and the Coffin Bean is usually pretty dark, so she’ll have no excuse not to come - besides, she loves their cupquakes.

On the 30th of July

I finally talked Twyla into going to the Maul with me. If you let her she’d probably stay in the shadows all summer, but lucky for her I won’t let lurking boogiemen lie! We went to the fur salon, and I picked out some new colors for my ‘do - I’ve been letting it go natural lately, but that doesn’t stop me from switching up my style all the time. I wound up buying like five different colors because I couldn’t decide on just one. After that we split a big booberry smoothie at the food corpse and we talked for a long while. Well... mostly I talked, Twy listened, because she’s a clawsome listener. She let me howl about how was I supposed to pick what I wanted to do with the rest of my life if I couldn’t even pick a hair color? I asked her what she thought I should do, and she got this really freaky intense look, like she was thinking hard, and then she flicked my ear and said, “I think what you really want to do is plan out your whole life before you live it, and you can’t do that, so stop stressing out.” Which is both good advice and totally useless because you can’t stop stressing out just because you want to, like, when has that ever worked in all monster history? But I do feel better, somehow. I think it helped to just talk about it to someone who gets me and doesn’t laugh when I say dumb stuff. She also agreed to come cheer me on at the poetry scream. There’s a reason Twyla is my beastie. =)

On the 10th of August

Clawd and Clawdeen actually weren’t busy today for once. Even though they’re a pain in the fang, hanging with them can still be scary-fun. Sometimes. Clawd talked us into playing a pick-up soccer game in the backyard, and Clawdeen didn’t even get growly when she fell into one of the holes Clawd made along the fence... he likes to bury things in the dirt and dig them up later. I think it’s a boy thing. We’ve all got game, and later we did get into an argument about who had the most points - we’d said we weren’t keeping score, but no duh, of course we all were! But no one got their fur in a frizz about it for a change. After a while we were making up the biggest number we could think of and howling with laughter. Dad said later he almost didn’t want to call us inside for dinner because he loves seeing us act like one big happy pack. I think he misses when all my even bigger brothers and sisters were still at home... Mom teases that he’s got empty den syndrome. I miss my older brothers and sisters sometimes, too, but they aren’t that far away. (Plus, not that they’ve moved out, the wait for the bathroom is a LOT shorter.)

On the 13th of August

I think I’m getting cold paws. The poetry scream is in just a few days, and my brain has been going all over the place since I said I’d go. What if I get stage fright? What if I totally blank and forget the whole poem? What if I’m not even that good? ...Ugh, okay, I texted Twyla, and she convinced me not to give up the ghost. Plus she pointed out that since it’s open mic, I can always just show up and decided if I want to go ahead with it when I get there. Sometimes I wish I could borrow Clawdeen’s confidence, not just her clothes... she never seems scared of anything.

On the 18th of August

Whoa, I’m still shaking. The Coffin Bean was WAY more packed than I thought it would be. There had to be dozens of monsters there, and I was a total casket case even with my beastie at my side until I ran into Clawd and Draculaura. I sort of hadn’t told them I’d be there, so they were scary surprised to see me. And then they found out I was sort of thinking about maybe performing, they wouldn’t let me get away with not doing it. So I signed up and waited for my turn, even though I was so howling nervous I could barely hear the poets on before me, and then it was my turn. I was so wound up that my eyes were practically crossing with fright, but I saw my bro and Draculaura waving from the audience, and Twy giving me the claws-up, I sucked it up and read my poem. I had it memorized and gave it everything I had, and the monsters in the crowd really seemed to dig it. I didn’t like completely bring the house down, but when even the zombies slow-clapped at the end and Clawd whooped for me it felt just little bit epic. Then Draculaura when on with this mega-romantic and sweet poem and she had the whole audience wailing like banshees. Even I got a little teary-eyed, and Clawd was whimpering into his coffinchino... he made me promise not to tell anyone lol. Of course she won first place for the night - not that I’m moaning. She totally deserved it, and I came i third, which made me feel pretty clawsome about the whole thing. Even Clawd was patting me on the back and bragging that I was his little sis to anyone who’d listen... which was embarrassing, but whatever, kind of nice too. =) I gave Twyla the biggest hug for staying with me, too, especially since crowds are one of her fangups. I have to say, I really liked tackling my fears... it makes me think maybe I’m ready for a whole new me next year! Watch out, Monster High!