#that I'm thinking of calling “Roles & expectations”

[plaidos]

hi! I 100% understand your post on how both Caliborn and Calliope are trans, and I’m not sure if what I’m about to say is smth you specifically headcanon since I’m not super familiar with your blog, but what do you think of ppl calling specific trolls trans? Like Kanaya/Vriska. if we are to understand all trolls share the same set of genitals, then aren’t all trolls sort of trans for choosing to present/become a certain gender? where and how are they assigned a gender at grubhood if they’re raised by lusii and mass made propaganda? do they have a female/male tag when approved by the mother grub jadeblood assistants? I genuinely thought it was a personal free for all instead of a 1:1 human mirror of cissexist society

so first of all, quick correction -- Vriska is canonically trans, that's not a headcanon -- it comes up in both Pesterquest & Homestuck: Beyond Canon so i'm assuming that tidbit is here to stay: Vriska is trans.

but speaking of headcanons, i think you're making a lot of assumptions about Alternian culture & troll biology here. first of all, your basic assumption -- that all trolls share the same set of genitals -- isn't canon; we actually know only a very small amount about troll genitalia (that they don't have two dicks [Meat 12] and that trolls & humans seem to be able to have sex without much effort [Meat 31, among other places in the Epilogues])

secondarily, transness isnt based on "choosing a gender identity" -- inarguably, cis people are also choosing to keep performing their gender presentations & identities; the gender roles that cis people on earth engage in aren't like... innate to their physicality.

similarly, even if somebody on Earth is born in a forest and nobody is around to say "it's a boy" that doesn't mean that baby is without an assigned gender -- because it still lives & grows up in a world where a particular set of traits is categorised as male, and another is categorised as female. imo, there's no reason to expect troll culture to work differently; we know that to some degree trolls are sexually dimorphic because, according to the posters in Karkat's hive, or the cover to his trashy romance novel, cis male trolls generally have flat chests & cis female trolls generally have breasts, much like humans [HS 4712]

(ok this is kind of a bad example because those boys have mega titties and you can't really see the girls. but there are other examples. trust. i just wanted to include the trashy romance cover.)

furthermore, according to Porrim in Openbound [HS 5263], alternia has a patriarchy despite having an empress (much like another empire y'all might be familiar with...) with different layers of the caste having different percentage demographic of "male" and "female" trolls; Porrim specifially points out that the legislative castes & other highbloods are male-dominated -- and to be fair, that totally lines up with the canon we see. between Terezi and Feferi's positions on the haemospectrum we only have one girl, and she's trans!

i also think -- though this is conjecture -- that a lot of the facets of troll biology that we see were not evolved traditionally but genetically modified into the population by the empire -- we already know that they used to have more blood colors, and that there are examples of blood colors uncategorised by their caste system [HS 4962]

plus, even Dirk mentions that the Empress tried to modify human children to have different blood colors to recreate her Alternian haemospectrum. [HS 4850]

i don't think it's a stretch to say that the haemospectrum, trolls' reproductive system & their symbiotic relationship to alternian fauna could very well be imposed onto the species by the Empire (perhaps even before HIC's time) rather than evolved the old-fashioned way. the fact that trolls are able to even have sex & have desire to do it similar to humans (again -- proven & reiterated time and time again by the Epilogues) suggests that there may be still some (perhaps vestigial) analogue way for trolls to reproduce or at least perform the physical motions of reproduction (which i believe the kids these days call "fuckin")

beyond that, bonus lore from Andrew (YMMV on its canonicity) suggests that Sollux's lusus was more accepting of a trans child than Eridan's, which ended up shaping Eridan's distaste & jealousy of him. also, at least in Beyond Canon, we get mentions of Old Aternian "schoolhives" [HSBC 75] which would imply some kind of formalised education -- the perfect place to disseminate cultural gender propaganda!

and to answer your question "where and how are they assigned a gender at grubhood if they’re raised by lusii and mass made propaganda" -- well, presumably the brooding caverns (which are manned -- or trolled? -- by teenagers) is where they're assigned their gender, but i don't know what you mean about the propaganda -- propaganda makes this sort of thing easier. a good deal of the beliefs about gender on OUR planet are soley reinforced by state propaganda! surely Alternia's regime would make that easier instead of harder. we get various mentions of information dropped in by drones, too, so i'll bet all of that was super reinforcing of cisgender society.

you're right that Alternia is kind of a "free for all" and isn't a direct 1:1 mirror of human society... but it very much is meant to be a reflection of human society!! all of the stuff about Alternian children being raised into a violent, colonialist culture with rigid views about reproduction , relationships & sexuality -- that was always supposed to be a reflection of the violent nuances humans raise THEIR children with. lots of the troll stuff in Homestuck is meant to be a massive deconstruction of the idea that Earth & Alternia are all that different. Trolls aren't "biologically predisposed" to polyamory or quadrants any more than humans are "biologically predisposed" to be a homosexual :B -- they're culturally coerced to.

great question though.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I hc that chat lacks self-preservation instincts because Adrien uses Chat as a form of escapism and kinda disassociates from real life, thus making it not truly come across to him how dangerous he is actually being. What are your thoughts on this "theory"/idea/thoughts on why Chat almost kills himself constantly.

Warning! Doyalistic analysis incoming: I think you've put more thought into the topic than the writers have. We're six seasons in and I can't think of a single episode where Adrien's self sacrificing streak was treated as a problem. I don't think that canon even acknowledges that it's a reoccurring issue. Every time he's killed, mind controlled, or otherwise incapacitated is treated like the first time because this is a formula show and you're generally supposed to view every episode as a standalone story even if it often doesn't feel like one.

While I don't like that canon made that choice, I will defend it to a mild extent because I get why it keeps happening. Or, at least, I think I do. My best guess is that the writers aren't viewing the self-sacrificing thing as a serious character beat. They're just using a standard trope and Adrien just so happens to consistently be the easiest character to shove into the role that the trope requires.

The trope in question is usually called the "red shirt" trope and, to save myself some time, I'm just going to quote TV Tropes' to explain what it's all about:

[Red shirts] are the Good Counterpart of Evil Minions and Mooks — set filler for our heroes' side. Their purpose is almost exclusively to give the writers someone to kill who isn't a main character... [Red shirts] are used to show how the monster works, and demonstrate that it is indeed a deadly menace, without having to lose anyone important. Expect someone to say "He's Dead, Jim", lament this "valued crew member's senseless death", and then promptly forget him. Security personnel in general fall victim to the worst shade of this trope, as most of the time their deaths aren't even acknowledged at all; according to Hollywood, you could walk into a bank and shoot a security guard right in the face without anyone making a fuss.

All of the above is why canon consistently lets characters be disintegrated, captured, mind controlled, and so on. These moments are not meant to be serious character beats. They're just there so that the show can raise the stakes for the day's fight.

While the trope is usually reserved for random characters that don't matter, Miraculous tends to use established characters instead because there's a magical reset mechanic which makes negative status effects a temporary issue. It's less the writers calling Chat Noir useless and more them taking advantage of the fact that they can "red shirt" characters that the audience actually cares about. That's a much better way to raise the stakes than red shirting a random character that the audience has never met.

Zombizou is a perfect example of this. That episode sees the entire miracuclass sacrifice themselves, but the message is not that they all have self worth issues. The message is that they trust Ladybug which is the only message canon is trying to send on the occasions when self sacrifice is actively chosen by a character, thus dialogue like this dialogue from Lies:

Cat Noir: There are only two liars left in Paris and one of them knows the ultimate way to catch her attention. Ladybug: No way! Don't do it! What if I fail?! Cat Noir: You know what? I trust you.

Other episodes see the self-sacrifice happen by accident and those don't even get a line about trust. It's just there to raise the stakes.

Of course, that's the Doyalistic explanation. If you want to get Watsonian, then I think your take is a solid one! I just don't think that it's even remotely intentional which is why I would only go Watsonian if you're doing something like writing a fanfic. Don't expect canon to ever address this issue because canon doesn't see it as an issue. It's even one area where I don't judge canon too harshly because this is a really standard trope so I get why they keep using it. Every episode has a fight and you have to do something to keep them interesting! I don't know how you make 130+ fights feel serious without some red-shirt-style moments. That's why the trope exists! It's just the nature of the beast.

My only real criticism is that Miraculous keeps red shirting a character that a lot of the audience understandably views as having self worth issues. That's not a choice that I'd personally make. If Adrien is going to be your standard red shirt option, then don't make him read as depressed and struggling to find his place in the world. Or, at the very least, round robin the red shirt role between the various cast members so that Adrien doesn't stand out in the role! In my opinion, it's yet another case of the writers really not thinking beyond the most surface level implications of their writing choices.

Since you seemed interested, I'll note that my favorite way to address the self sacrificing issue is to have this behavior come from Adrien doing what needs to be done even though he has no desire to die or even just be hurt. After all, Ladybug does need to survive every fight. She's the one with the cure! He's right to protect her! The story doesn't end there, though. Instead of just accepting this, I use it as a way to bring Carapace onto the team because you don't want to just randomly expand the team. Establish a problem, then expand the team to solve it. Ladybug needs to survive every fight and Chat Noir keeps getting hurt? Bring in a human shield. Problem solved!

[microwavesaferat]

So Bruce now has several adult children that could very easily take up the cowl (and already have in some cases) but he doesn't seem to be retiring any time soon. So let's say he gets injured in the field, like Bane back-breaking stuff, and he is forced to retire. He wants one of his kids to take up the mantle. Not necessarily pretending to be him, but as the new Batman (like Terry McGinnus in Batman Beyond).

Issue is he doesn't know who the cowl should go to, so he calls a meeting. Everyone is sitting at a long table in the manor when Bruce discusses his sudden, but overdue, retirement.

Bruce: So now we come to the splitting of assets.

He places the cowl on the table in front of him.

Bruce: Figure it out yourself.

He gets up and leaves.

Expecting a fight to break out, he waits to listen at the door in case things get out of hand, lord knows he doesn't want a physical brawl over the cowl. He doesn't expect what happens next.

*silence*

Stephanie: Not it!

Tim: No way!

Dick: Been there, done that.

Damian: No.

Cass: no.

Babs: Already got a job.

Duke: Uh, I think I'm busy that day.

The only person who hasn't said anything is Jason

Dick: Looks like it's you Jay.

Jason: Fuck no, I figured killing people made me exempt already.

Bruce happily sheds a tear, knowing his raised his kids so that none of them want to follow in his footsteps.

After an all nighter where the kids argue over who should take the role

(notable points include:

Tim: I thought you were the 'Blood Son's Dames, it's your 'birthright' and all.

Damian: I plan to donate blood tomorrow.

Jason: Dick, you're the oldest, you take it.

Dick: No! Have you seen how good my ass looks in my current suit? A cape is gonna ruin that silhouette!

Stephanie: Why don't you want it Tim, you're already CEO of WE, why not become full Bruce?

Tim: *shudders* Ra's already is obsessed with me, if I become Batman, he won't leave me the fuck alone.

Eventually they call Bruce back in, having come to a decision. Bruce walks in, not sure who has taken it, but his bets are on either Cass, Dick or Damian. He looks up at the table to see:

Sitting at the head of the table, with the cowl over their face...

Bruce: Um... Alfred?

Dick: Yeah! He has the most experience out of all of us!

Duke: This also means we can keep doing our own things as well.

Jason can't stop laughing at Bruce's face.

Bruce: You're really playing along with this Alfred?

Alfred: I am the night Master Bruce.

Bruce: Real fun-

Alfred: I think you'll find that I am vengeance sir.

Bruce: Okay, I ge-

Alfred: I, young Master, Am Batman.

Bruce phones Kate who laughs in his face.

[biazerod]

The "snowed in" comic I've been teasing for every winter past 3 years, finally here! :D

part 1/?

[undead-knick-knack]

I realized I needed a follow-up to this post

[sysig]

Scribbly silly squirrel shenaniganary (Patreon)

[the-tenth-arcanum]

I signed up for a mentorship scheme back when I still had some hope in my heart, and today I had a call with my mentor and needed to share my screen and I completely forgot I had a tab open on LinkedIn job postings

[bosbas]

Chapter 1: I said, "dancin' is a dangerous game"

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, lowkey why do i ship daphne and y/n....

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

May 13, 1812 - You were in Hyde Park less than ten minutes before you saw Daphne Bridgerton's figure out of the corner of your eye. Delighted that she'd joined you earlier than expected, you waved her over.

"Hello, Daph," you greeted cheerfully, scooting over so your best friend could sit beside you on the bench. "I didn't think I'd see you for a few hours, given how many gentlemen asked you to dance last night. Did none of them call?"

Daphne groaned, a scowl set deep on her face, as she took a piece of bread from your basket and broke it into chunks to feed the ducks.

"Don't remind me. Most of them called, actually," she responded. "If only Anthony had let me have three seconds with them I might have been able to discern whether or not I was actually interested. He barged into the sunroom and promptly kicked everyone out. There was not a single suitor left in the room by the time he'd finished!"

You snorted. "Ah, so the overbearing eldest brother is once again to blame."

"Isn't he always?" she responded, too annoyed to match the lightness in your tone.

You just smiled to yourself and fed the ducks silently, knowing Daphne well enough to hide your smile from her, given that she was more than likely fuming at Anthony's constant meddling. You knew he meant well, but he was known to go a bit overboard at times. Well, most times. Especially when it came to Daphne's courtships.

"Anthony's the biggest rake in Mayfair, anyway. I don't know exactly what moral high ground he thinks he's standing on but it's certainly not as sturdy as he assumes," continued Daphne, still upset over that morning's happenings.

"Is it really that bad, Daph?" you said in an attempt to console her. "At least you're not getting hordes of unpleasant men at your doorstep every day. And you know the kinds of men that frequent the ton aren't always the kind you'd want to spend your afternoons with."

"I'm not getting any men at my doorstep! That's the problem!" exclaimed Daphne, exasperated. "I know you might not share the same desires as me, but I would eventually like to get married and have a family."

"I want to find a husband, too," you insisted, your tone bordering on defensive. "I just don't particularly feel bothered to look for one during my first season."

Daphne sobered immediately, coming out of her annoyance toward her brother as she could sense you were upset. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear," she insisted, placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. "It was just-"

"I understand," you smiled at her, placing your hand over hers. "I just don't have the same urgency as you do, on account of my father having absolutely no stake in my marital status. No stake in anything about me at all, actually."

It would be a sad sentiment if you weren't used to it. You were an only child, and your mother had died after getting ill when you were only five years old. Your father, of course, was quite busy with the land he managed, and thus most of your upbringing had just been you and your governess. And the Bridgertons, of course.

You had met Daphne when she was eight and you were seven, and the two of you had gotten along splendidly since then. Since you had no real family of your own, bar your absent father, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence at Daphne's insistence. You now found yourself to be a semi-permanent fixture in their house, feeling just as home there as you did at your father's home.

This proximity to the Bridgertons had made you intimately familiar with Anthony's overprotective demeanor. Ever since you and Daphne were young, Anthony had gone out of his way to make sure that his siblings were cared for. Sometimes that included you, too. But unfortunately, he could take it too far sometimes.

"Did you like anyone last night, at least? Your dress was quite magnificent and I know I'm not the only one who noticed," you winked at Daphne.

She hummed thoughtfully. "I don't entirely know. I don't think one dance is enough to know whether I truly like someone," she responded, slumping down on the bench.

"Especially not when Anthony cuts the dance short halfway through," you laughed, recalling the eldest Bridgerton's attempts to thwart Daphne's search for a husband.

But your comment did nothing to lighten the mood. Instead, it seemed to make your friend even more irritated.

"It's my second year out in society! I still don't have a husband. Not even close to it, apparently," continued Daphne, aggressively tossing bits of bread into the pond.

"Well, you have to marry eventually. Anthony can't keep you away from every man for the rest of your life!" you argued.

But this did little to quell Daphne's annoyance. "He's certainly trying," she muttered.

"We can ship him off to the West Indies for the season," you joked. "Surely he won't be able to interrupt your suitors from halfway across the globe."

Suddenly, Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at you with a devious smile.

"I was only joking! We can't actually ship him away," you laughed. "Besides, how would the ladies of the ton ever survive without the most desirable bachelor who is always just out of reach?"

Daphne snorted, amused at your dig at Anthony. "No, no, we don't have to ship him away," she said. "But you are correct in saying that I need time away from him to fully explore potential matches."

You hummed in agreement, imagining how much easier life would be for Daphne if her older brother simply... let her be. "Is he going on a hunting trip soon?" you said hopefully.

Your best friend shook her head, still smiling at you like she was plotting something.

"What is it?" you pressed, laughing at her expression.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she said, an expectant look in her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll kill Anthony for you. I’ve only been waiting for you to ask,” you joked.

“No,” Daphne laughed. “I’m serious.”

“Go on then,” you nodded.

“Could you ask him to dance at tomorrow’s ball?”

“Me? Ask him? Are you out of your mind?” you sputtered. You had never danced with Anthony at a ball, and you couldn't fathom the first time you did so being after you were the one to ask him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t just rely on forlorn glances across the ballroom to secure suitors. I need to actually speak with them, and I won’t be able to if Anthony keeps... hovering.”

Granted, hovering was a very generous word for what Anthony was really doing. But still, you looked at her, uncertainty in your eyes. You weren’t particularly keen on asking Anthony to dance, knowing he was famously opposed to marriage at this point in his life. Yes, you had grown up around him, but that didn’t mean he was interested in you at all, and you didn’t want to face that rejection if you could avoid it.

“Don’t give me that look! I promise it’ll work,” cried Daphne, desperate. “Just tell him you feel like dancing but don’t want to give another man the wrong impression since it’s only your first season and you’re still biding your time. Most of which is true.”

She made a good point. You didn’t want the hordes of men that seemed to flock to Daphne just yet. And would one dance really hurt that much?

---

The music in the ballroom pleasantly surrounded you as you stood next to Violet. Daphne had left to dance with Lord Wilson, a bachelor of very distinguished background who seemed to be hanging onto every word your best friend said.

Just as you turned to Violet to comment on how well-suited the pair looked, Anthony stormed over to where you were standing.

"It's unbelievable that she's even giving him the time of day," he said lowly, looking wholly unimpressed by the dance happening a few feet in front of him.

You could feel Anthony growing tense beside you as the seconds ticked by, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Three seconds of his sister speaking with a man and he was ready to explode already? He was worse than you thought.

You saw Daphne lean back as she laughed at something the gentleman said, and you knew you had to act fast before Anthony intervened.

“Oh, the music is wonderful tonight! Anthony, would you care for a dance?”

He tore his gaze away from his sister and looked at you, perplexed.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“I believe I am, Anthony,” you said.

He scoffed, not quite believing you. “That is not very proper of you, Lady L/N.”

“And you are a great authority on propriety, I presume?" you said, a playful edge to your voice. "Given your… adventures as a rake, surely you have a better idea of what is proper than I do.”

Anthony choked at your bold choice of words, not used to people calling him out so publicly. “Y/N! Why do you want to dance with me then, if I'm such a rake?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just enjoy the music and want to dance. And I don’t want to give any other men the wrong impression,” you recited exactly what Daphne had told you to say.

He nodded reluctantly and took your hand. “Very well. One dance, then. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression of me either.”

This was the last time you ever did anything for Daphne. God, how difficult could one man be?

But all of your annoyance faded away once he placed his hand on your hip and spun you around. This was rather nice, you found yourself thinking. You hadn't properly danced at a ball yet, and you couldn't help but think that you'd missed out on a rather enjoyable activity.

The dance was going along quite smoothly, and you and Anthony seemed to be melting together, no longer two individuals but instead moving more like one entity. You were especially enjoying whenever his grip shifted slightly and his hand ran across the small of your back. To be truthful, you were simply having fun.

That is until you felt Anthony shifting you across the dance floor so you could get nearer to Daphne and the gentleman she was dancing with. Feeling Anthony's shoulders tense underneath your gingerly placed hands, you looked up at him.

Looking into his eyes, you raised your eyebrows. "She's fine, you know. You don't have to watch over her every second of every ball."

Anthony rolled his eyes, dismissing your comment. "Of course I do. She's my sister! I have to take care of her. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her or if she ended up betrothed to a dolt."

"Anthony," you softened your tone. "It's quite alright. It's not all up to you. You've got an entire family to keep her safe. And me, of course."

You could feel his muscles relax under your hands. "Thank you," he breathed out. "I know all of that to be true. I just worry about her. And about you! But luckily there aren't many suitors of yours to scare off."

"Oh," you said, your voice squeakier than you intended. "Thank you?" you questioned. You weren't quite sure how to take his comment.

"No!" he rushed out, immediately realizing what his words sounded like. "I didn't mean it like that. Daphne had just mentioned that you're not as interested in finding someone right now since it's your first season. And I hadn't really seen you dance with anyone at one of these balls before. And-"

"It's no trouble, Anthony," you smiled, giggling at how flustered he'd gotten. "I appreciate the concern nonetheless."

He shook his head, still not believing that he'd been so rude toward you. As much as you were a familiar face around his home, he couldn't quite tease you the way he did Daphne or any of his other sisters, and he was dreadfully embarrassed that he had made you upset, even if just for a moment.

"If you ever want to dance again, just come to me, understood?" he said, his voice turning serious. "I don't need another one of you to worry about."

You could barely contain your laughter as the music came to an end. "Yes, Anthony," you said dutifully, smiling at how silly he was being.

Looking over at Daphne, you were pleased to see that everything had gone to plan and she'd had the chance to talk to Lord Wilson the entire time you'd been with her brother. It was a relief that she'd finally gotten a normal courting experience.

Before Anthony could reach her and wrench her away from her suitor, Daphne rushed over to you, grabbing your arm excitedly.

"Shall we take a turn about the ballroom?" she suggested, leaving you no room to protest as she led you away from her mother and brother.

You laughed at her excitement, glad that your best friend was finally enjoying herself.

"Thank you so much, Y/N, truly," she gushed, squeezing your arm affectionately. "That was absolutely incredible. It's the longest time I've been able to spend with a potential match without Anthony hanging over my shoulder."

"I'm happy to do it," you said amusedly. "He was that lovely, then?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she shook her head. "Lord Wilson was dreadfully boring. But at least now I know! And I don't have to pine over him or wonder what he would be like. I know for certain I'm not interested, and I can focus on finding my true love match."

"That's wonderful, Daph," you laughed. You truly held so much affection for her. It was endearing to see her so excited over spending time with a man she didn't even like.

Suddenly, Daphne slowed her pace. Turning you around, she held both of your hands and took a deep breath. "Yes, it was. Which is why I must ask you to dance with Anthony tomorrow night as well."

"What do you mean? Ask him to dance again? I thought this was only for tonight," you sounded unconvinced. Asking her brother to dance one time had already been enough of a hassle, but having to pretend to need him to dance with you once more was looking like an insurmountable challenge.

"Please, Y/N," she begged. "It's the only way I'll find a husband that isn't someone like Nigel Berbrooke," she added, whispering the last part.

It was true, Anthony seemed to have impossibly high standards that only the most unpleasant bachelor in Mayfair seemed to be able to meet. If you could do anything to protect Daphne from that unpleasant fate, you would do it.

"I suppose I could try tomorrow night. Though I can't promise he'll want to dance with me again. Anthony seemed quite reluctant tonight," you conceded.

"Nonsense," said Daphne, rolling her eyes. "Anthony loves you dearly, I can't imagine he'd ever turn you down."

"Whatever you say," you responded, unconvinced but unwilling to dampen your best friend's chipper mood. Besides, you had a wonderful time with Anthony tonight. How could another dance possibly go wrong?

—

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[teambyler]

My video "A LAWYER'S EVIDENCE that Mike and Will become a romantic pair in Stranger Things" is out!

Many of you have followed me ( @teambyler ) or read my essays analyzing Byler (I've linked some of the most-shared ones below). I am actually also a LAWYER who has a YouTube channel called RONALD OFF THE RECORD, and I just released my big video on Byler! (I also have another YouTube channel with 45K subscribers that I mention in the video)

I'm prepared to put my professional reputation as a lawyer on the line to comment on a piece of science fiction, because goddammit this is important to me! It is not "delusional" to think Will and Mike will become a couple, and there is nothing wrong with you if want it to happen! This is a video essay I've been planning for at least SIX MONTHS, and I put a lot of work into it. Please share, and please leave comments. Enjoy! =D

0:00 Why this video 1:38 Hate for Byler on the internet 10:16 Case for Mileven 15:21 Case for Byler: Starting premises 17:56 If Will were a girl… 25:30 The evidence! 29:05 EXHIBIT A: The Snow Ball 31:34 B: Mike's reactions to El and Will being upset 34:21 C: Season 3 ending montage 39:16 D: Airport reunion 47:51 E: Rink-O-Mania argument 51:28 F: Heteronormativity, audience expectations 58:25 G: Throwing away the letter 59:55 H: 2nd heart-to-heart scene 1:05:43 I: Mike can't say he loves El 1:13:27 J: Platonic reunion 1:15:12 K: Will's role convincing Mike to say "I love you" 1:20:08 L: Effect of the "love confession" on El 1:39:54 M: The Painting Lie 1:43:22 Honorable mentions 1:45:27 Non-diegetic evidence 2:01:23 Actor statements 2:07:01 Season 5 information 2:10:34 NOT how you write an unrequited love story 2:16:07 Why Byler SHOULD happen (queerbaiting, etc.) 2:28:21 A more powerful story 2:35:45 A personal note

I'm now making this my new pinned post, so I'll list a few of my posts here for people to check out.

ADDITIONS: -28:00 On "We should normalize same-sex friends being affectionate, they don't have to be gay," I should have been clearer. HOMOPHOBIA is the reason for that stigma. Straight friends feeling like they can be affectionate in our society HAS to include normalizing LGBT+ people. -1:16:55 I should've said this more clearly: Will reminded Mike that who HE is, HIS unique qualities, make him worthy of love and make El love him, not dumb luck. And Will of course could convey that because Will loves the actual nerd MIke and everything he is. -1:17:06 Mike making El "not feel like a mistake" doesn't fit El, because she says that Mike looks at her "like I'm a monster, too". Nor did she "push you away because she was afraid of losing you". That's Will, not El. Mike felt love because Will was describing himself. -1:52:36 I forgot to mention that, in the original Nina opera, Nina's lover is ALIVE and DOES return. The Duffers changed the story so that Nina's lover does NOT return, to further suggest Mike won't return! -2:35:22 I'm kicking myself for not being more specific about Mike and Will being heroes in more than one way: I think the theme of bullying from s1 will return, with Will (and also Mike) having to face bullying for being boyfriends in Hawkins.

EDIT: I hit 1000 subs, only to discover THIS VIDEO CANNOT BE MONETIZED. ='( I think I put over 100 hours of work in this video, and this isn't sustainable for me unless I get support. This also means I can't make public videos with the same quality -- using show clips and music makes a stronger impact. I've considered deleting and reposting an edit, but that would losing all the wonderful comments and CUTTING OUT THE LAST SCENE. ='( ='( ='( NO. FUCKING. WAY.

So this is what'll happen: future videos NOT use clips and music to the same extent, except versions I post on my Patreon. And I need Patrons because I don't make money as a social-justice lawyer, and rely on that plus YouTube ads. Here's the Patreon link! (Any future video will be clipped, with the full version on Patreon) https://www.patreon.com/c/theruleslawyer

Some other @teambyler posts:

Mike was saying "I love you" to Will

Questions to ask if ever you have Byler doubt

How the Duffers have set Will up to have a happy ending in Season 5

The most heartbreaking way Byler can culminate (and how I predict it will) (I know this is less likely than an "escape from Camazotz" possession scenario, but I still want this to happen =D )

How the Duffers likely will make the general audience AWARE of Byler and CHEER for Byler

-teambyler

[newobsessionweekly]

She's my wife

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

part 1

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You are Tim's wife, six months pregnant, and refusing to rest. When you're assigned to recruit police officers for a new Metro team, your husband makes sure no one messes with his wife.

Fluff

A/N: Well, it's been a while but I guess I'm back in business. The most requested imagine of all! I hope you all enjoy it and excuse my disappearance. I can't guarantee you'll get more work from me as often as I used you to, but I can promise you I'll write and post all my ideas! Thank you for your support! Lots of love, bubs! Take care of yourselves! 🫶🏻

Warnings: None, pure fluff, (maybe mention of small injuries i guess?), not proofread yet

Requested: Yes!

Words: -

If there was one thing Tim Bradford never expected to happen in his lifetime, it was being completely and utterly wrapped around someone’s finger.

And yet, here he was.

It had started the second you told him you were pregnant. He’d been so sure he’d keep his cool—be the composed, level-headed Sergeant he was known to be. But the moment those words left your mouth, his entire world tilted on its axis. For the first time in years, something scared him. Not a suspect pulling a gun, not a high-risk Metro raid—this. You. The life growing inside of you.

Of course, you didn’t make it easy on him.

You had spent the first two trimesters of your pregnancy insisting that you were fine, rolling your eyes every time he tried to gently suggest that you should slow down.

"Tim," you sighed one evening, standing in your kitchen while he insisted on cooking for you. "You’re hovering."

"I am not hovering," he said flatly, though he absolutely was.

You arched a brow, leaning against the counter. "I’m pregnant, not dying."

Tim grunted, flipping the chicken in the pan. "Still not taking any chances."

You smirked, stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "You love worrying about me, don’t you?"

He sighed, tilting his head down to press a kiss to your temple. "Yeah, well. You make it impossible not to."

What he didn’t expect was that pregnancy would turn him into the world’s most overprotective husband.

It started subtly—making sure you ate on time, setting reminders on his phone for all your doctor’s appointments, researching vitamins when you weren’t looking. Then it got worse.

Like the time he woke up at 2 AM to find you scrolling through work emails.

"Are you kidding me?" He groaned, rolling over to take the tablet from your hands. "You’re supposed to be sleeping."

"I am sleeping."

"You’re awake," he deadpanned.

You just smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "Then make me tired, Sergeant."

But by the second trimester? Oh, he was doomed.

Because you were still you—stubborn, reckless, and infuriatingly unwilling to slow down.

He should’ve seen it coming. You had spent your entire career proving yourself in Metro’s elite tactical unit, earning every bit of respect that came your way. You weren’t just some officer—they called you a tactical genius, someone who could think three steps ahead in high-pressure situations.

So of course, when the brass suggested you take maternity leave, you laughed in their faces.

"You should take it," Tim had said carefully, fully expecting a figh

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. "And do what? Sit at home and wait?"

"It’s called resting, sweetheart."

You’d rolled your eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. "Not happening."

And, of course, you won.

Instead of getting benched entirely, you were offered a leadership role—forming a new Metro team. It was a compromise. Less fieldwork, more strategy. And while Tim reluctantly agreed it was the best option, it didn’t stop him from hovering over you like a damn bodyguard every chance he got.

Now, here you were—six months pregnant and stationed at Mid-Wilshire, observing officers, evaluating skills, and deciding who was good enough for your team.

And here Tim was, barely keeping it together.

The Mid-Wilshire training room was filled with tension as the candidates for your Metro team sat in front of you. Lucy Chen, Angela Lopez, John Nolan, Nyla Harper, and a few other officers watched you with rapt attention as you paced the front of the room, flipping open the folder in your hands.

"Metro isn’t just about skill," you said, voice steady and firm. "It’s about adaptability, precision, and teamwork. Today, I want to see how you handle high-pressure situations."

You gestured toward the training mats. "We’re going to run a combat demonstration—basic takedowns, disarm techniques, and reaction time drills."

Tim immediately frowned.

He knew what you were doing. You wanted to prove yourself. Wanted to show these officers that pregnancy hadn’t slowed you down, that you were still as sharp and dangerous as ever. And while he respected the hell out of that, it didn’t stop the knot of worry from tightening in his chest.

"Are you sure—" Tim started, stepping forward.

"Yes," you cut him off before he could finish, shooting him a look that said don’t start.

He exhaled sharply but didn’t argue.

The officers lined up as you demonstrated a quick disarm technique, moving through the motions with practiced ease. But Tim saw it immediately. The slight hesitation in your step, the way your movements weren’t as fluid as usual.

Your balance was off.

Officer Matthews—new to Mid-Wilshire, cocky as hell—stepped up for the exercise. He moved fast, testing the maneuver harder than necessary. You reacted on instinct, blocking his attack, but—

You stumbled.

Not a lot. Barely anything. But Tim saw it.

Before anyone else could react, he was already there, hand gripping your arm, the other steadying your waist. His entire body was rigid, tension rolling off him in waves.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, controlled—but barely.

You huffed, annoyed. "I’m fine, Tim. I just lost my footing—"

"You shouldn’t even be—"

"Don’t." You cut him off sharply, leveling him with a glare. "I know my limits."

Tim’s stomach burned.

And then Matthews laughed.

Your husband's head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle the kid didn’t flinch.

"You think this is funny?" Tim’s voice dropped, low and dangerous.

Matthews shrugged, unfazed. "I just think it’s a little ironic that Metro sent a pregnant woman to recruit us."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Lucy and Angela both stiffened, already knowing what was coming. Nolan looked like he wanted to disappear, and Nyla just smirked, waiting for the fallout.

Tim took a slow step forward. "You want to run that by me again?"

Matthews chuckled, oblivious. "I just mean, maybe Metro should—"

"That’s my wife." Tim’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Matthews’ smirk vanished.

Tim stepped closer, looming over the rookie, his entire body coiled with restrained fury. "That’s my wife," he repeated, voice sharp as steel, "and if you ever question her ability again, you won’t just lose your chance at Metro—you’ll lose your badge altogether."

Matthews swallowed, stepping back. "I—I didn’t know—"

"Yeah?" Tim’s tone was ice. "Well, now you do."

Silence.

The entire room seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Tim turned back to you, eyes scanning over you, checking—always checking. His hand found its way to your waist again, grounding himself in the solid reality of you standing there, unharmed.

"You okay?" he murmured, softer now.

You sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "Tim, I’m fine."

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. "We’re talking about this later."

"Looking forward to it," you deadpanned.

The tension in the room slowly lifted as Matthews slinked away, and Lucy finally broke the silence with a grin. "Well, that was fun."

Nyla chuckled. "I was wondering when people would finally figure it out."

Nolan exhaled, shaking his head. "I knew something was up."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back and addressing the room. "Alright. Now that everyone is caught up—back to training."

And just like that, the spell broke.

But as you walked back toward the mats, Tim caught your hand, squeezing gently. You looked up, meeting his gaze—warm, steady, and unapologetically devoted.

Because if there was one thing everyone knew now, it was that messing with you meant dealing with him.

And no one messed with Tim Bradford’s wife.

[bridehall-if]

--The hungry mouth of Bridehall Manor lets out its clarion call. You have been compelled to answer.

DEMO OUT NOW!

You play as the youngest child of the Simonson family, born out of infidelity-- a perfect Victorian scandal. Due to your unfortunate birth circumstances, your parents have decided to send you away to take up a position as household manager at the remote Bridehall Manor after the previous one's untimely (and altogether strange) passing. You expect your time in the mansion in the Catskills of New York to be uneventful and isolating.

You'd be wrong.

The longer you stay at Bridehall, the more secrets you find hidden behind its mahogany doors, beneath its ornate wallpaper, under its rich hardwood floors, and especially within the denizens of the house themselves.

Just be careful not to drown in the deep, deep black of its shadows.

+ Customize your MC-- what's their attitude towards society? How do they feel about working at Bridehall? What are their thoughts on the supernatural?

+ Also, choose your gender,* interests, personality, name, and more.

+ Discover more about the (troubling) history of Bridehall and the people that have lived in it.

+ Experience the world's most uncomfortable carriage ride.

+ Romance 1 of 5 ROs-- the matriarch, the minister-in-training, the runner-up, the major, or the phantom.

+ Befriend those who live there, or make enemies. Connection is a fragile thing, especially in a place like Bridehall.

+ Blood sacrifices! If you're into that sort of thing.

TW: Gore (not extremely descriptive), mentions of infidelity, violence, brief suggestive content, mentions of animal death, mentions of drug use. This IF is recommended for those 16+

================================================*Disclaimer: Because this IF is inspired by the 1880s, gender roles are still sort of a thing. There is an option to play as femme/masc non-binary, but based on your presentation, that affects how you are treated in society and some additional world aspects. However, there will not be any transphobia/intentional misgendering in this IF. It's just not something I want to write. I'm not non-binary myself, so I'm very open to suggestions on things to change relating to this topic.

================================================

🌑Harriet Margrave -- the matriarch -- (she/her) {FMCs only}

| Assured. Respectable. Intimidating. The wife of Amos Margrave, although she doesn't like it when people bring it up. She runs the house, some might say with an iron fist. She seems to have taken a dangerous liking to you.

| However, beneath her strong, cool exterior, she's not all that she seems-- you catch glimpses of something dark and curious lurking. It's up to you to decide whether it should never see the light of day or, perhaps, to be consumed entirely by it.

| Harriet is in her late 40s, with ash brown hair always kept in a neat, complex updo and deep blue eyes that shift with tones of green in different lights. She has a light but rosy complexion and stands at around 5'7. She tends to wear a lot of black, as if she's in perpetual mourning, although she doesn't mind an occasional blue accent.

"Low and deep Spake in mine ear her voice: "And didst thou dream, This could be buried? This could be sleep? And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!" Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss." -- snippet of Assurance (1887) by Emma Lazarus

================================================

🌒Ansel Margrave -- the minister-in-training -- (he/him)

| Flighty. Devout. Gentle. A hopeful future Methodist minister, he's recently been plagued by supernatural visions (or so he says,) and your arrival and the circumstances surrounding it do nothing to calm his worries. You may be able to reassure him otherwise.

| As you get to know him, he may reveal that he has far better reasons to be afraid than you might think. Will you walk with him through his troubles, or leave him to wander the solemn corridors of Bridehall on his own?

| Ansel is in his early 20s, and he looks much like his mother with his ashy brown hair and pale complexion, although due to its lack of rosiness it sometimes borders on ghostly. He'd like to dress more vibrantly but fears reprisal from his clerical peers, thus, he usually sticks to muted greens and browns. He stands at around 5'9, and wears spectacles.

"In solitude profound, As shadows fall, what memories, Thick as dew-drops on sun-risen meadows Troop around thee!" -- snippet of Night In Egypt (1880) by George Vaughan

================================================

🌓Cecil/ia Blumenthal -- the runner-up -- (gender selectable, he/him or she/her)

| Independent. Scrappy. Creative. C's been working at Bridehall for practically their whole life, climbing the ranks until they could finally reach the position of head butler/housekeeper they deserved-- until you came along. In their eyes, you have everything you want on a silver platter, and how much work have you done to get it? None. In short, they've got a real bone to pick with you. Will you play into the feud, or maybe try to change their feelings? Honestly, best of luck on that one.

| Because of how long they've been at Bridehall, C knows more about its history and secrets than they let on. Much, much more.

| C is in their mid-20's, with shiny brown curls that F!C keeps in an artfully rushed bun and M!C keeps just a bit too long. They have coffee-brown eyes and warm, tanned skin dotted with freckles. They stand at 5'6. They prefer to dress for convenience rather than style, but they always wear a tarnished silver brooch in the shape of a bird-- F!C pins it to her collar, while M!C pins it to his lapel.

"I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Til it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine." -- snippet of A Poison Tree (1794) by William Blake

================================================🌔 Marshall Ward -- the major -- (he/they)

| Outgoing. Empathetic. Perfectionist. A new arrival at Bridehall like you, he's an old family friend of the Margraves who plans to stay for the autumn. He's the perfect picture of polite society-- porcelain smiles and impeccable manners. Despite the divide between him as a guest and you as the help, he insists on making a connection with you. One that may be a bit too strong for his own good.

| Now, you don't know much about the military yourself, but it is a bit odd that a non-retired military officer was permitted leave for an entire season, and whenever you ask questions surrounding his arrival, you only get heavy silence in return. It's as if there's a tight wire of secrecy underlying his sunny veneer, and the more you press, the more it's likely to snap.

| Marshall is in his early 30s, with short, coily black hair and an impeccably combed mustache. They have light tan skin and have a small scar running across their cheek, and he stands at 6'2. He is very meticulous in the way he dresses and is particularly fond of red ties with embroidered patterns on them.

"Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell. They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. -- snippet of The Charge of the Light Brigade (1854) by Lord Alfred Tennyson ================================================

🌕Annabelle -- the phantom -- (she/her)

| Mysterious. Quiet. Ethereal. Every so often, out of the corner of your eye or the reflection in a mirror, you catch a glimpse of her. Is she even real, or is she simply a product of your own mind, spiraling ever deeper into instability? Whatever she is, you feel an indescribable, intangible pull to her that may become very hard to resist.

| Annabelle is inextricably linked to the house and its history. If you dig to learn more about her, you may unearth the very roots that Bridehall stands on. Roots that it would very much like to keep underground.

| Annabelle appears to be in her mid-20s, although the semi-translucent, filmy aspect to her makes it a bit hard to tell. She has very dark skin that glitters and shines under moonlight, and she seems to be perpetually wet, as if she had just been thrown in a pond. She wears a pale pink dress a decade or so out of date, and stands at about 5'3.

"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling-- my darling-- my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea-- In her tomb by the sounding sea. -- snippet of Annabel Lee (1849) by Edgar Allan Poe

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[harunayuuka2060]

Professor Crewel: I couldn’t help but feel like I was being intentionally ignored.

Professor Trein: By 'Mother'?

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: I won’t be calling her by that name. It’s absurd.

Professor Trein: Why? Do you have a problem with it?

Professor Crewel: I'm a grown adult and a professor here. I’m not going to call a woman who isn’t biologically related to me "Mother."

Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: Professor Crewel, it's highly possible that "Mother" is older than any of us here—perhaps with the exception of the headmage.

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Trein: You can't expect any assistance from her if you don't call her by that name.

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: It can't be helped. Besides, her role in this school is similar to that of a patrol officer, ensuring the safety of the students and assisting the teachers.

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *approaches 'Mother'*

Professor Crewel: Mother, do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss—or rather, tell you.

Mother: ...

Professor Crewel: I’ll need your assistance in handling the pups tomorrow. Can I trust you with this?

Mother: ...

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *smiles awkwardly* Great. See you tomorrow.

Yuu, Grim, and Ace: Mother~~!

Professor Crewel: No hugging in my class.

Grim and Ace: Tch.

Yuu: Professor Crewel, what is Mother doing here?

Professor Crewel: I've received troubling reports of misbehaving pups sneaking off with supplies.

Ace: Ah... no wonder. But wouldn’t it be easier to ask her to retrieve the items?

Professor Crewel: She wasn't here when it happened.

Grim: Eh? Does that even matter? You just need to describe it to Mother, and she’ll surely find it, mryah!

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: I haven't thought of that.

Yuu: I have the list, professor.

Professor Crewel: Thank you, pup.

Yuu: *shows the list of lost items to Mother*

Mother: ...

Mother: *nods, then goes on her way*

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: Is every student at Night Raven College friendly toward her?

Ace: Hmm... kind of. But some are still creeped out.

Yuu: Even so, I think Mother completely understands that. Though, she still likes to give us head pats, hehe.

Grim: Oh! Mother is back!

Mother: *enters, holding the lost items*

Professor Crewel: You are fast.

Mother: ...

Professor Crewel: ...Thank you. You may take your leave now.

Mother: ...

Mother: *turns to the trio*

Yuu, Grim, and Ace: ???

Mother: ...

Yuu: ...

Yuu: Guys, do you think she's waiting for the hug?

Ace: Eh?

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *sigh* Go ahead.

Yuu, Ace, and Grim: Yay!

Professor Crewel: She's not bad.

Professor Trein: She can do almost everything except handle documents.

Professor Crewel: Right—

Professor Crewel: *happens to see Mother with a group of first-year students throwing rocks at her*

Professor Crewel: What are they—

*Mother seemed to have lost her patience. She spread her black goo, which reached their feet and pulled them into the soil, trapping them waist-deep.*

Professor Crewel and Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: *pretends he didn't see anything and continues walking*

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *chuckles*

[baby-yongbok]

Brainless Baby

Boyfriend!Felix x Afab!Reader x Best Friend!Hyunjin

♡ Genre - Explicit Sexual Content [MDNI]

♡ Word Count - 4k

♡ Summary - "You're the only guy to ever make me crawl"

♡ Warnings - Hyunlix action (mxm), Oral ( m & f rec.), Cum sharing, dom/sub dynamics (sub Hyunjin, Dom Felix & Reader) , unprotected sex, creampie [I think that's all] ♡ a/n - What's a plot? We don't know her. We just know the pure filth that is this fic. Would you believe me if I said that I haven't even seen the SKZ Code with that line that inspired this fic? I'm so behind. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

✧ Masterlist ✧

You like to say that you’re the best friend that anyone can have and you think that Hyunjin would agree if you asked him. You’re the type of person who takes pride in helping a friend in need. Someone needs money? You’ll lend them some. One of your friends needs help moving? You’ll lend a hand. Your best friend is feeling stressed from work? You’ll invite him over to fuck you and your boyfriend. It’s simple. 

Ever since you started inviting Hyunjin into your bedroom with your boyfriend, Felix, it’s been a rollercoaster ride. Since you and your partner are more of the kinky type each scene has been an adventure. It can range from simple planned out play to completely unpredictable. Even with you knowing all of that you never thought that you’d see something like this.

"You're the only guy to ever make me crawl." Hyunjin huffed with a smile as he looked up at the blonde smirking down at him. "You're just gonna let him do this to me, princess?"

He looks up at you with a playful glint in his eye. He doesn't hate this as much as he wants you to think he does but it's fun to play along. 

"I don't know I kinda like you on your knees" You kneel to Hyunjin’s level, running your fingers through his hair before closing your fist around the locks and forcing his head back slowly. A groan escapes him.

"Doesn't he look pretty down there, angel?" Felix kneels down to your level so that he's face to face with Hyunjin. "You wanna get up?"

You expected Hyunjin to roll his eyes. You expected him to tell you both that he obviously wants to get up with that annoyed rasp to his voice but he doesn't. He whimpers instead, shaking his head to the best of his ability while he whispers to you both. "I don't "

"You wanna stay on your knees for us? Follow us around on all fours like a pet?" Felix coos, his condescending tone pulls a whine from Hyunjin's throat. The blonde takes his middle and pointer finger and places it under Hyunjin's chin. He tips his head up so that there's nowhere else to look but at him. "You wanna be a good boy for me today, Hyunjinnie?"

 It’s seldom that Hyunjin lets his guard down like this. You and Felix have had this dynamic with him for close to a year now but he’s never taken on the submissive role like this. He’s more of the stubborn type, rolling his eyes and making you or Felix force him into submission but never fully going into the headspace. It’s always just enough to blow off some steam. 

You know that Hyunjin leads a busy life, that’s why he comes to you two. He says that he likes to relinquish control after the long and hard days of doing what everyone else wants him to do. He likes to put a chunk of his trust into the hands of you and Felix but it’s never this much. He never hands it all over. 

When he called you yesterday to set up today's meeting he mentioned something about not wanting to have to think anymore. He said that he just wants to exist and be told what to do, what to think, what to say. He said that he needed a break and that’s exactly what he’s getting.

“C’mere” Felix beckons the raven haired boy with two fingers as he walks three steps in front of him. You follow behind, trailing slowly as you watch Hyunjin follow the younger's orders. “Feeling brainless today, baby?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, no hesitation or thought to what he’s agreeing to at all. “That’s alright.” Felix’s accent is thick on his tongue as he stops walking, turning to the boy behind him with a sweet smile that contradicts all pending action. 

“We’ll take care of you, won’t we angel?” He glances up at you with the same smile.

“Such good care of you. I promise, Hyune.” You pet his head and he melts into the touch. You can’t help but to stare at him, awestruck by how fast he’s fallen into this headspace. He’s never been this far gone before. 

Hyunjin runs his tongue over his bottom lip before sucking the corner of it into his mouth. Felix notices and takes a step closer. His two fingers find a spot under Hyunjin’s chin once again, guiding the eldests gaze to his. “Need something?” Felix runs the tip of his thumb over Hyunjin’s bottom lip, freeing the corner from his teeth. 

“What do you need, pretty boy?” The rumble of Felix’s tone makes you press your thighs together seconds before Hyunjin does the same. Your best friend peers up at you with his big brown eyes glazed in a way that you’ve never seen before. He looks between you two, waiting for someone to decide what it is that he needs. 

“I think that he needs his mouth full, Lix.” Hyunjin nearly crumbles at your feet once your suggestion hits the air. His eyelids flutter shut for just a second as he sucks the corner of his lip back into his mouth.

You step closer to Hyunjin so that he can lean his head on the side of your leg. You watch as his fingers spread and the tips slightly dig into the carpet beneath him in anticipation. 

“Is that it?” Felix blinks down at Hyunjin with a teasing gaze as he slowly slips his finger between Hyunjin’s plump blushed lips. You watch, bare cunt dripping under your skirt as Hyunjin welcomes every bit of Felix’s finger into his mouth. 

The younger exhales a shaky breath as the kneeling boy swirls his tongue around the digit with a light moan. He sucks lightly while mindlessly bobbing his head a bit. His glistening eyes stare up at Felix like he’s hung the stars in the sky. You’re speechless. Wildly turned on but utterly speechless.

 Felix's finger slides in and out of Hyunjin's mouth at a slow, agonizing pace. The younger fights back a full body shudder as Hyunjin gets lost in the action. 

Your hand moves on its own as you watch them. You stroke Hyunjin’s freshly cut hair at the back of his head to coax him further into his relaxed state. 

 Felix's watches with an amused twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes as Hyunjin moans at the pressure of him pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the middle of his tongue. His eyes knit together as your boyfriend slowly pries his mouth open. Felix bends to Hyunjin’s level once again as he slides his finger out of Hyunjin’s mouth and replaces the digit with his tongue. He leans in quickly, pulling your friend into a slow and sloppy kiss.  

Hyunjin’s hand finds your ankle and the tips of his fingers sink into the flesh as Felix explores his mouth. He whines against your boyfriend, moaning and pushing into the kiss with a desperation that you’re not sure that you could ever match. 

A quiet moan slips past your lips as you watch them. Your pulse picks up at the naughty scene unfolding in front of you as you take in every inch of them. Every detail. You and Felix have opened your relationship to help several other friends, you’ve seen Felix dom some of your friends, some of his friends and even some strangers but this feels different. It feels so hot and effortless like he’s been preparing for the day that Hyunjin lets his guard down. 

The feeling of a new hand on the outside of your leg makes you jump, pulling your focus away from the boys in front of you and down to the source.You watch as Felix’s hand trails up the front of your leg, slithering up your calves and tickling the inside of your thigh before it disappears under your skirt. “Fuck.” He rasps, his mouth still semi full of Hyunjin’s tongue.

He nips down on Hyune’s bottom lip as he pulls away, a thin line of spit connects them until Felix turns to look up at you. “Watching us made you that wet, angel?” 

 While Felix is talking to you Hyunjin stares up at your boyfriend with a dazed expression. He’s fucked out, there isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense. “How about we have this sweet boy taste you.” 

Hyunjin switches the target of his attention. He stares up at you as he sits back on his knees, still on all fours just how Felix wanted him. He almost looks like a cat waiting patiently for its meal. “C’mere Hyune.”

He scoots forward and you lift the front of your skirt to show off your bare cunt to him. He whimpers, squeezing his thighs together once again and looking up at you with watery eyes that are desperate to spill over with tears of pure pleasure. “Stick your tongue out.” You instruct softly and Felix watches it all from behind him. Hyunjin quickly obeys, poking out the muscle over his bottom lip with his head tilted back just enough to see both you and Felix at the same time. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart.” Felix takes your hand that’s not holding up your skirt and leads you forward until your cunt is resting on Hyunjin’s tongue. He moans just as you do, your head kicks back with eyes shut tight as he starts to lave over your swollen bud. The tip of his tongue dips and weaves between your folds sloppily encouraging your well watered flower to spill over his chin as he gets more into it. 

Your moans are echoing through the room and Felix listens to them like music. “Looks like he did need his mouth full, huh?” Felix muses while he combs his fingers through Hyunjin’s long locks.

 Hyunjin's eyes roll back and he lets out a satisfied sigh. “C’mon make my baby feel good.”  Felix fists Hyunjins hair and pushes him further against you. He groans, his nose is pushed up against your pubic mound as he sucks and swirls your clit. 

“Hyune, Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum.” His thighs press together and his fingers twist and fist at the shaggy living room carpet beneath him. Felix notices it all, he notices everything. From the way that you’re rocking your hips against Hyunjin’s mouth and pinching your nipples over your shirt to the way that Hyunjin’s hard cock desperately twitches in his slacks in a pathetic attempt to feel any friction at all. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” 

Felix gets behind you to make sure that you stand steady as you come undone on Hyunjin’s tongue. If you were dripping before then you are pouring now, soaking up every inch of Hyunjin’s chin with your sweet water. 

Felix kisses the curve of your neck as you come down from your high and Hyunjin kitten licks and cleanses every bit of you that he can reach. He’s so far gone, so fucking horny that he’s damn near panting for more. He needs more. “That’s my girl.” Felix leads you back and over to the couch so that you can take a second to come down from space. 

He sets his sights back on the cat-like boy a couple of steps away from you. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to take him in. He’s still in his work clothes, a white button up untucked from his black slacks with the first four buttons undone. There are wet spots on his collar and by his buttons courtesy of your dripping cunt. His dick is rock hard in his slacks, straining dangerously against the bulging zipper. It’s practically begging for attention. His hands are in fists and his lips are still wet, so fucking wet. 

“And that’s my boy.” Hyunjin’s hazy eyes nearly sparkle once Felix starts towards him. Your boyfriend grins with a faint chuckle. “She’s so sweet isn’t she?” Hyunjin nods, never breaking eye contact with Felix. 

“Care to share?” The blonde kneels, tipping Hyunjin’s chin up with a single finger before licking up his lips to collect your lingering arousal. He plants sloppy kisses against his lips that Hyunjin struggles to keep up with but tries to reciprocate anyway. “So damn good.”

He leans back, looking your best friend in the eye for a second or two before leaning in and kissing Hyunjin's forehead. His lips linger there for a few moments before he pulls away. “You did so good for her.”

Your vision is clearer now as you watch them from your spot on the couch, cunt still dripping. “Thank you, Hyune.” You coo and the corner of his mouth nearly turns up in a smile but that would require thought and he can’t seem to think right now. 

“He’s gone dumb, baby.” Felix stands, leaving Hyunjin on his knees. “Come.” He beckons him with two fingers and Hyunjin follows, crawling close behind Felix until he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

“Let’s see if he can go dumb on my cock now.” Felix unties his sweatpants and Hyunjin audibly falls apart just for a second. He moans, bucking into the air as he sits back on his knees. “You wanna suck it? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

Hyunjin bites at his bottom lip, watching carefully as Felix frees himself from his sweats. “I think our brain-dead baby still wants his mouth full. Poor thing, isn’t satisfied yet.” You speak up for Hyunjin, leaning over and patting his head as he waits to have his mouth busy again. 

 “Poor thing.” Felix teases. “Lemme see your tongue.” 

Hyunjin sticks out the muscle just as he did before, perfectly flat over his bottom lip. Felix beckons him closer with a bent finger and Hyunjin leans forward so that he’s no longer sitting on his knees. He’s on all fours again. 

Felix slaps the tip of his cock against Hyunjins tongue with a deep groan. He rubs it back and forth a bit to tease the eager boy as spit drips off the tip of his tongue. “Suck.” Hyunjin acts immediately, wrapping his lips around Felix’s ruddy tip with a satisfied moan. His eyes flutter shut as he swirls his tongue and your boyfriend throws his head back against the couch at the feeling. 

“That fucking mouth.” You lean over, stretching your arm over Felix’s chest and splaying your hand over his toned stomach. 

“Is he better than me, Lixie?” Your boyfriend looks over at you with pinched brows and a fucked out glint in his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile as he shakes his head. 

“Close.” He runs his hand up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You don’t take your eyes off of him while he touches you. “But nothing can beat your mouth, baby.”

You lean in with a smile but it melts away once your lips meet Felix’s. He licks into your mouth with a hot desire that you feel right in your core. He moans into you and you swallow it with a greedy thirst for more. More of him, more of Hyunjin, more pleasure. More of everything. 

“Shit.” He rasps against your lips and you pull away to look down at Hyunjin. His eyes are closed as he bobs his head, deep throating Felix every now and then with drool running from the corners of his plump lips and over his chin. He’s more of a mess than before and it’s so hot. So damn hot that you just have to give your cunt some more attention. 

You open your legs wide enough for one of them to almost drape over Felix’s knee and you snake your hand down to where you're drenched for the boys in front of you. Your fingers carefully run over your swollen clit, it’s still sensitive from Hyunjin’s skillful attack but it feels too good to care. “Greedy, baby.” Felix tsks as he pulls you back in for a sloppy kiss. 

Your fingers dip into your cunt and after a bit of playing on your own Felix’s nimble fingers find your clit to show it some attention. You turn into a moaning mess just like Hyunjin. A desperate cry leaves him with each bob of his head. “Fuck, Hyune. Look at me, baby. Eyes on me lemme see em.” 

Hyunjin looks up at Felix with watery eyes clouded with lust and a drooling mouth full of his cock. It’s hot. It’s so hot that you’re shaking and cumming the second that you see him like that. 

Hyunjin whimpers and bucks his hips at the sight of you coming undone again. His straining cock brushes against the couch and it feels so good that he chokes on the throbbing cock in his throat.

 “Wanna touch yourself?” Felix asks, voice raspy with his pending orgasm lingering in the pit of his stomach. Hyunjin moans, blinking up at Felix in a desperate attempt to beg. “Jerk your cock while you suck me off.”  

That’s all Hyunjin had to hear to get his hands to rush down and pop the button of his slacks. The zipper undid itself with the pressure of his cock against it. He moans more wildly around your boyfriend's dick now that he has his own in his fist. He hisses as he polishes the angry tip, nearly choking on spit as he takes a sharp inhale. 

With Hyunjin’s attention split between himself and Felix the younger decides to help the desperate boy complete his original task. Felix’s hand fists Hyunjin’s hair and starts to help him bob his head over him. He speeds up and slows down to his heart's content until his cock is twitching in your best friend's mouth. “Gonna - fucking nut. Gonna fucking cum.”

Hyunjin is damn near crying as he works his cock and Felix’s in tandem. He’s a mess of moaning and groaning. His eyes are rolling back, spit is dripping down his chin and chest while pre-cum paints his throat and his fist. He’s fucked out. Debauched. 

“Ah, shit.” Felix bucks up into his throat, halting all movement as he spills his load into Hyunjin’s mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He grunts his demand through clenched teeth as he rides out his orgasm. He thrusts once, twice, three times into Hyunjin’s mouth before he slowly pulls out. 

“Fuck.” You and Felix hiss at the same time when a bit of cum drips down Hyunjin’s chin. He keeps his mouth closed while he strokes his own cock. He’s waiting for instruction, he’s waiting for you two to say that he can cum. “C’mere Jinnie.” 

He stops touching himself so that he can crawl in between you and Felix on the couch. He looks like a cat again, a desperate little kitty. 

You and Felix both move into him, your fingertips grazing over his skin as you unbutton his shirt further to reveal more of him. Once his chest is on display you lean in and brush your tongue over one of his hard nipples. He always tells you that that does close to nothing for him but the reaction you get from him as you wrap your lips around the bud would deem that a lie. 

“You’ve been so good.” You coo, kissing a trail up over his clavicle and licking bruising kisses into the skin of his neck.

“Such a good boy for us.” Felix fists Hyunjin's twitching cock and he moans into the air, throwing his head back with pinched brows as he twists his fist over his length. 

When Hyunjin leans up to get a look at the way that Felix is jerking him off you both lean in. Your mouths meet in a sloppy and passionate three way kiss that has Felix’s cum leaking from between Hyunjin’s lips and into your mouths. You moan at the familiar taste of Felix’s arousal and Felix moans at the mess spilling over his chin and down his neck.  

Felix pulls away and you take over the kiss, licking up all of the cum you missed and trailing sloppy kisses back down Hyunjin’s neck to collect what the two of you missed. While you're busy with that Hyunjin has his eyes on Felix who is spitting all of the cum he collected in his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock. The warmth slides down his shaft in a sinful slow mo that makes Hyunjin’s toes curl. 

The lewd squelching of Hyunjin’s cum covered cock fucking Felix’s fist fills the room and you can feel the man next to you start to unravel with desperation. “Wanna cum, Hyune?” He’s nodding violently, moaning while staring over at you. “Here.”

You nod over at Felix and the two of you silently agree to switch. You throw your leg over Hyunjin to straddle his sticky cock while Felix pulls him in for a sloppy kiss. You position his pulsing tip at your soaked hole and he slips right in. 

“Gahh - Fuck. Fuck.” Hyunjin breaks his silence as he pulls away from Felix’s lips and throws his head back with a loud cry. He presses his hips into you, reaching you impossibly deep. “Can’t, can’t. Fuck, baby I can’t.” 

You grind against him, purposely clenching around him to pull some deeper cries from him. “Nghhahhh - Fuck. Lix, can I? Can I cum? Please, please, need it. Need to.”

He’s rambling as you start to bounce over him. He tries his damn best to look over at Felix and beg for his release. He really does try but his eyes just keep rolling back and fluttering shut. He can barely breathe right. His breath keeps getting stuck in his chest until he exhales with a shaky moan. 

“She feels so good doesn’t she? You like her riding your cock?” Hyunjin shakes his head, words don’t make sense anymore. He doesn’t think that they ever will again. He bites his lip so hard that he could draw blood. “Wanna ride mine like that when she’s done?”

“Shit.” Hyunjin hisses and Felix smiles that cocky smile that you seem to find contagious at the moment. “Please, please - gahhh - gotta cum.”

Felix looks over at you and you at him. He winks at you and you take that as your cue. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Hyunjin’s neck and pulling his messy chest closer to you until he’s flush against you. His arms wrap around your waist as he lets you fuck him, he’s holding on for dear life. His honey skin is tinted red and he’s holding his breath until he hears you say it.

“Cum for us, Hyunjinnie.” A moan rips through him and he’s breathing again. His eyes are screwed shut and his fingers dig into you so hard that you just know that It’ll leave delicious bruises behind. He holds you still against him and starts fucking up into you desperately.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is decorated with your twin moans and Felix watches it all with his hardening cock between his fingers as he strokes it languidly. 

“Ah fuck.” He thrusts into you one last time before you feel him start to fill you up. Ropes of his hot sticky cum fall right on top of the other and collect around his cock that’s still plugging your pulsing hole. You grind against him, helping him ride out his orgasm as aftershocks of it all zap through him. 

“There we go.” You pepper kisses over his face as he pants beneath you, his head rests against the back of the couch and sweat beads and falls from his hairline. You comb back the hair sticking to his glistening skin with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“I-” He swallows hard, trying his best to form any words at all. “I’m good.”  

You chuckle, placing a quick kiss on his lips before starting to untangle the two of you. “You need water.” You move to get it once you’re up and Felix watches you walk away with Hyunjin’s cum sliding down the inside of your thigh. 

“You did well.” Felix pulls Hyunjin closer to rest on his shoulder. “Are you done for the day? Are you satisfied?”

The raven haired boy looks up at your blonde lover with that same fucked out gaze. It’s still hazy. Still desperate. “Not even close.” 

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[ckret2]

Chapter 88 of human Bill Cipher, in a stunning role reversal, helping the Mystery Shack not get imprisoned: somehow, he's managed to seductively femme fatale his way into stealing secret files from a government agent.

However nobody is thinking about Bill's relationship with that guy this chapter.

"I'd love to stay the night, but I didn't plan for it—all this really took me by surprise!—I don't have a change of clothes, or my toiletries—and I have half a dozen medications I need to take, you know, the kind the doctor tells you ya can't skip..."

Powers insisted he couldn't let Bill walk home—not this late, not after all their talk about about how threatening the town was—but Bill couldn't afford to let Powers know he was more than just an occasional daytime visitor to the Mystery Shack. So Bill gave him directions down an overgrown forest road until they reached a footpath forking off into the shadows, indicated the dark silhouette of the old, abandoned Corduroy cabin barely visible between the trees and claimed he was staying with some people in that cabin for the summer, and insisted Powers didn't need to get out of the car, Bill could walk to the door himself.

He gave Powers his burner phone's number. If he called it—and if Bill's plan worked, he would—and the Pines overheard, he could tell them he'd stolen the phone when he'd escaped over the weekend. Bill wouldn't be surprised if they confiscated it and only handed it over when Powers called. He'd have to tell his girls they couldn't use that number and ask for a fresh burner phone; but hey, that was what burners were for.

And then he got out of the car, walked to the door, knocked firmly on the abandoned cabin's door, and said, "Hey, lemme in." After a moment, he added, "I'm talking to you, peeking through the keyhole. Let me in, you little creep."

A child ghost opened the door a crack, peering up in trifold wonder at the living person who had—one—seen him without a seance—two—through the door, and—three—spoken to him directly. Shyly, he asked, "Do you wanna be friends with—?"

"No." Bill walked through the ghost. "Shut the door."

He proceeded to ignore the child ghost, warmly greeted a dream hipster spirit who was surprised Bill could see him, and shot terrible puns back and forth with the hipster for a couple minutes until, through the walls and the trees, he saw that Powers had driven off.

"Finally," Bill muttered. He poked a finger in the dream hipster. "Hey, lemme out, would you? I think the kid in the corner's gonna start leaking extoplasm if I ask him for another favor."

The dream hipster—a desiccated human spirit with an eyepatch and a fedora—said, "Do it yourself. Moving doors takes a lot of psychic energy. Especially with this." He flexed a gloved hand with a wide array of cutlery strapped to the fingers.

Bill decided not to point out that the spirit had two hands. "Wow, great idea! Got any experience lifting curses?"

"No?"

"Then get the door."

The hipster opened it—with a big show of effort that Bill was pretty sure he was playing up. "Who was that, anyway?" he asked, nodding toward the leaving car. "Friday the 13th?"

"No, he—what?"

"A bad date." The hipster let out a croaky laugh. "I came up with that myself."

"Yeah, I can tell." Bill swept past the hipster without so much as a thanks. "Best date I've had since I died, actually! But it doesn't have much competition. Never date in a psych ward." He turned back to the hipster—who was giving him a confused, expectant look, like he was sure Bill was setting him up for a joke but didn't get it yet—and said, "If you see Raina, tell her Bill said hi."

"Who?"

That was what he'd expected. He sighed. "Well—if you ever do run into her." 

He waved farewell to the hipster and the deeply haunted cabin, and began the long walk back to the Mystery Shack.

####

Powers had apparently claimed the car the agents had gotten from Gleeful Auto, but the other two agents still had the car they'd come to town in; and Bill saw it lurking by the Mystery Shack. He was sure Trigger and Dale thought they were slick with their black car and tinted windows; but Bill saw them as clearly as if they were standing in the open in broad daylight. But looking through the car made pain shoot through his exhausted left eye—that was what he got for running around without an eyepatch all day. He rubbed his eyelid as he tried to figure out what to do about the agents.

If they told Powers that Bill was staying here, it could ruin everything. But they had a clear view of both the gift shop door and the back door, and nobody would be up at this hour to let him in by the museum or floor room doors. He could sneak in through his secret roof route, but that would let the Pines family know he could get in and out without their assistance.

(Besides, he wasn't sure he could do that trick when he was awake. It only worked when he could convince himself the trap doors to the roof were "lids," and it was easier to lie to himself with the help of the altered mental state of a dream; and while the floating practice he'd gotten during the eclipse had helped him figure out how to make inanimate objects float, he still couldn't fully ignore gravity's pull on his own flesh without tapping into the mindscape.)

Nothing for it. The agents in the car would just have to discover Bill was staying here.

Even though it was almost one in the morning, the lights were still on when Bill reached the back door. He only had to knock once before Stan flung the door open. "Where in the world were you?!"

"I just love how you ask that like you think you're entitled to an answer! It's adorably presumptuous." Bill walked past him, rummaging in the folds of his umbrella as he did.

"The agreement was dinner, not for you to run off with—"

Bill unwrapped a wad of papers from around the umbrella's shaft and shoved it in Stan's face. "Guess who got the agents' case file! Everyone congratulate me on what a good spy I am."

From the living room, Ford said, "I'm sure you've already congratulated yourself plenty."

"I'm just getting started. Where's my hood—? Ah." Bill found his hoodie hanging on the coat rack and gratefully pulled it on for the first time in two days. "Hey Stanley, didja know Powers used to work for the IRS? Criminal Investigations."

"I knew there was something I didn't like about him," Stan muttered. He wandered into the living room distractedly as he flipped through the pages. "Weather records, some kind of mumbo-jumbo about power grids... background checks on half the town... local FBI operations, military stuff... surveillance records? Yeesh!" He dropped heavily onto the sofa.

Ford leaned over to read over Stan's shoulder. "There's no way Agent Powers just gave this to you."

"No, but he showed it to me." By the time he wandered into the living room, Bill had already pulled on his eyepatch and one glove, re-covering his flesh in yellow and black as fast as possible. He heaved himself up on top of the TV, crossed his legs, and tugged the other glove on. "He didn't expect me to walk off with half of it, though!"

Stan's brows rose progressively higher with each page. "This is the kind of stuff guys like him get disappeared into secret military prisons for leaking. What the heck did you do to get him to cough this up, sleep with him?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Bill asked. "Of course I did."

Stan lowered the papers. He and Ford both stared at Bill. Stan asked, "Is it weird that I respect you more now?"

Ford elbowed Stan. Stan grumbled, fished around in his pocket, and shoved a ten in Ford's hand.

Oh, now his wayward student has faith in him. "Anyway, enough about my hot date. More importantly: I have a plan to get him off our tail for good. Get a photocopy of that file and go wake everyone up. We need to be done before dawn."

####

Mabel and Dipper's eyes were still 3/4 shut as they trudged down the stairs. Bill saw them and shouted, "Hey, star girl! You'll never guess who I ran into at Greasy's! I don't suppose you happened to know that blondie's working there."

That got Mabel's eyes open. "Maybe I did," she said, as coyly as she could while stifling a yawn. "And maybe I told her all about your date."

"Is that why you wanted me to go to Greasy's! See if I ever take any suggestions from future you again." Smart kid. She'd be a terror someday.

"So tell me all about it!" she gushed. "Do you like him? Did he ask you out again? Did you kiss?"

"Ha! He gave me a lot more than a little liplock."

"Like what?" Mabel asked breathlessly, as Stan shot Bill a panicked look over her head and Ford mouthed, don't you dare.

Bill slapped the stolen papers down on the table. "Like a fat wad of government secrets, howsabout that!"

As Dipper and Mabel looked through the papers, Bill claimed a chair in between them—elbowing Dipper out of the way as he did—and said, "He was dying to tell the pretty blonde all about his work. If loose lips sink ships, then this guy's the Bermuda Triangle."

"Is there anything we can use to get rid of him in here?" Dipper asked.

"Nope, just some juicy blackmail material on the neighbors. We should get a copy of the file! But I didn't bring it home for the intel."

"Then what did you bring it home for?"

Bill grinned. "Bait."

The living room table had been dragged to the middle of the room so the entire household—Bill, the twins, the bigger twins, Soos, and Abuelita—could cram around it together in their pajamas. Once everyone had gathered (and Stan had confiscated the file from Dipper and Ford when they got too into reading what the government's surveillance efforts had revealed about the Valentino family), Bill said, "The plan isn't too complicated." He tapped a pen on a paper on which he'd scrawled out the steps, complete with badly-drawn doodle of the agents leaving town in a well-drawn car. "But it'll require a forged document, a threatening letter, a hoax video, a distraction, picking multiple locks, and breaking into the museum, the motel, and the police department—all before dawn. All right?"

The group thought that over, and then one by one nodded in acceptance. "Doesn't sound too strenuous," Ford said.

"It sounds fun!" Mabel said.

"Almost too fun," Dipper said, squinting at Bill. "What's the catch."

Bill grinned. "This family's terrific. Okay! Who here has the deepest voice and the most convincing fake British accent?" He glanced between Stan, Ford, and Soos.

Soos shook his head. "Nope."

Stan elbowed Ford. "Hey. Do your impression of the constable."

"What?"

"From Duck-tective. Do the constable."

Mabel and Dipper smiled at Ford expectantly.

Ford grimaced, but sighed, cleared his throat, and said in a sheepish faux British accent, "'It seems what we have here is... a false duck-otomy.'"

Mabel, Dipper, and Soos snickered. Soos said, "Ah, never gets old."

Ford looked at the ceiling and muttered, "It makes more sense in the context of the episode."

Bill looked oddly irritated that Ford's impression had been decent. "Right. Fisherman, how's your accent?"

"Uhh... Lemme see." Stan cleared his throat. "''Ello 'ello, I'm the Prince of Wales, wot wot. Uh... blimey, mate?'"

Bill shuddered. "Nope, you're out. Questiony, you're sure you've got nothing?"

"Dude, I get the craziest stage fright when I have to act," Soos said. "In middle school? We had to do this school play? And we did this sassy modern retelling of 'Jack and the Beanstalk'? And they wanted me to play the giant, because I was like, six inches taller than anyone else? But—"

"You froze up so bad they had to cast you as the beanstalk. I know, I was there." (This statement deeply unsettled Soos.) "But you've been running this crummy tourist trap for the past year! You give gullible parents and their earwax-eating brats six tours a day! You've gotten over your stage fright by now!"

"Oh, that's totally different." Soos's eyes widened. "Wait. Is it different? Oh no—"

"You're out." Bill sighed heavily. He reluctantly turned back to Ford. "Okay, Sixer, lemme hear yours again. This time make it more nasal and try to sound evil."

"What?"

"Nasal and evil! C'mon, Sixer, we're burning moonlight."

"Is there a point to this?!"

"Yes!"

By this point, Ford was more than a little miffed. He'd spent enough time in school dealing with teachers disappointed in him for being the only kid in class with the answer to the question (as if that was his fault instead of the other students'), and he didn't need it out of Bill. But he looked at the ceiling again, and, with an air of corny over-the-top menace, grudgingly said, "'It seems... that what we have here is... a false duck-otomy.'"

Mabel and Dipper cracked up. Stan smacked Ford's back and said, "Hey, if they ever need someone to play the constable's evil doppelgänger..."

"Shut up."

Disappointed, Bill said, "Okay, that was great. You're hired."

"Exactly what am I being hired for?"

"I know how eager you are, but wait your turn, I'm handing out jobs." Bill pointed across the table at Abuelita. "Dolores. Distraction. We've gotta get past the suits in the car without any of them knowing we left the shack."

Abuelita nodded slowly. "Do you want them alive in the morning?" Soos stared at her.

"Unfortunately, killing them might just make things more complicated," Bill said. "So try to keep it nonlethal."

"If you insist."

Bill pointed, "Mabel! You're in charge of all document forgery."

She pumped a fist in the air. "Yes."

"You'll need this." Bill slid her a scrap of paper with the key to a substitution cipher. "Stanford, you can't do your part until star girl's finished hers, so you're her expert on historical accuracy. But this isn't your art project. You're a consultant only. Let the artistic genius make her masterpiece."

"Fine," Ford sighed.

Mabel beamed at him. "Look at us! Arts and crafts buddies!" One corner of his mouth tugged up.

"Stanley," Bill said. "You're breaking into the police department to steal a file."

"Yes! All right! I'm on it!" Stan cheerfully left the room.

Stan came back into the room. "A specific file, or... whatever I can find...?"

"I'll tell you where to find it and give you the code to the safe." Bill pointed at Dipper, tried to summon up his name, and said, "You. You're making a couple deliveries. Your part comes after almost everyone else, go get some sleep."

"Good." Dipper immediately left the table to head back upstairs.

Soos raised a hand. "What's my part?"

Bill nearly told him he only needed Soos's truck for the important people, felt Abuelita's stare like a laser, and said, "Getaway driver."

"Nice!"

Ford raised a finger. "You still haven't told me what you want me to do." His voice strongly implied that the fact Bill wanted it didn't mean Ford would.

"Oh, right," Bill said. "You're breaking into the museum so you can roleplay as a spy movie villain."

Ford stared at Bill. Then, quietly, trying not to sound too hopeful, said, "Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" Bill clapped his hands together, "Okay! You all have your parts—now let me explain how this is gonna work."

####

Yawning as he blinked off his sleep, Trigger said, "You're sure the woman at the door was the one Powers asked out?"

Dale nodded. "That was her, all right. I'd recognize her anywhere. Lovely hair."

Trigger checked the clock. It was past one. He'd expected to get a few more hours of sleep before being woken for his watch shift. "I thought she was a tourist? What's she doing at the Mystery Shack past midnight?"

"No clue. Very strange."

"We should tell Powers about it."

"Is it urgent enough to wake him, do you think? Or can it wait until—"

They fell silent as the shack's back door opened again, spilling light out onto the porch. One of the house's residents—after a hasty conversation, they concurred she was probably Mrs. Ramirez—came out and shuffled down off the porch.

"Is she coming this way?" Dale murmured.

"Shhh! We're in a black car, maybe she won't notice us."

She walked directly up to the car and knocked on Trigger's window.

Holding perfectly still, trying not to move his lips, Trigger whispered, "Stay quiet. The windows are tinted. Maybe she'll think we aren't here."

She knocked a second time.

Dale said, "Don't be silly." He leaned over Trigger to roll down the window and smile at Mrs. Ramirez. "Hi! Can we help you?"

Politely, Mrs. Ramirez said, "Hello. Are you two here on a stakeout?"

"Uh..." Dale looked at Trigger, who just sighed and shrugged, and said, "Yes, ma'am, we are."

"You will be here all night?" she asked. "Do you boys need anything? Juice, soda? Coffee? We have leftovers if you haven't had dinner."

The agents exchanged a surprised look. Dale said, "Well! That's very kind of you, Mrs. Ramirez. If it's not too much trouble for you, I wouldn't mind a coffee."

Trigger grudgingly nodded. "Coffee."

"Okay. How would you like it? Cream, sugar?"

"Black's fine for me," Dale said.

"A little milk, if you could," Trigger said.

"Is 2% okay?"

While she kept the agents distracted, Soos and Stan snuck out to Soos's truck and headed into town.

####

As Mabel sat at Ford's desk drawing, Ford asked, "That isn't how the map originally looked, was it?" It had been years since he'd seen the map to what the children claimed was Trembley's tomb—and he'd thrown it into the Bottomless Pit along with Journal 3, so they couldn't consult it now—but he was sure he remembered the original "map" had looked like Bill, with an elaborate secret code written inside of the triangle. Mabel's recreation in progress, even folded up into a complicated flap-covered square, looked a lot more map-like.

"Nope," Mabel said. "But Agent Powers doesn't seem like a very silly guy. I need to dumb it down for him."

"I suppose he probably isn't the kind of person to fold a century-old map into a paper hat." He continued rummaging through his bookshelf. He'd already provided Mabel a copy of the museum's floor plan, and now he needed to find a photo of the town graveyard.

"It's actually harder to make an easy secret map than a hard one," Mabel said, like a master puzzle maker explaining her craft. "For a hard one, you can do the trickiest things you can think of! But for an easy one you have to explain how it works, without being there to explain how it works, and you can't let them figure out it's being explained to them."

"You have to make it obvious without making it obvious you're making it obvious."

"Ex-act-ly. Hey, Grunkle Ford, when I'm finished with the map, is it okay if I use your coffee for paint?"

"For...?" Ford gave her a baffled look. "I suppose, but why coffee?"

"Staining the paper with coffee will make it look old! Super advanced art hack!"

"I see." Ford had the sneaking suspicion that the map smelling like coffee would somewhat ruin the effect; but all right, he wasn't the arts and crafts master who'd been put in charge here.

"Ah, here we go." He pulled out a book he'd filled with historical photographs of the town, flipped through it until he found a yellowed black-and-white picture of the graveyard, and set the book down on the desk by Mabel.

She gasped in delight. "Wow! Vintage scrapbooking!" She flipped through a few more pages. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised! Your journals are basically nerdy scrapbooks with a lot more words than normal. Did you take these pictures, Grunkle Ford?"

Most of the pictures were taken over a century ago. He felt old. "Er—no. I mostly got them from old newspapers in the library."

"Oh. That's fine! Collecting newspaper clippings is a respectable scrapbooking technique." She rearranged her map-in-progress to conceal the museum map within the paper's folds and reveal a blank canvas, and began drawing the graveyard. "Lots of scrapbookers do it! Moms whose kids are in the news, conspiracy theorists, serial killers..."

Ford supposed he was one of those things. He set his coffee mug down by Mabel's workspace. "Let me know if you need anything else." He retrieved the video camera from the worktable at the back of his study—Bill had said they'd need it at the museum—and, while he was back there, remembered he hadn't returned Mabel's sleepover video yet. He ejected the fresh tape he'd made for her.

As he carried it to her, she began to hum.

Cold terror shot up Ford's back. He'd grabbed Mabel's arm before he even realized he was moving.

She flinched. "Hey—?!"

As soon as he registered what he'd done, he let go and pulled his hand back. "Sorry!" He didn't even know why he'd done it. To stop her? To try to protect her? From a song? What had he been thinking?

Stupid question. He knew exactly what he'd been thinking: he's in her head.

"Sorry," he said again. "I just... Where... did you hear that song?"

She was leaning away from him now, shrinking into her chair. (Was she afraid? Had he scared her?) "Bill told me about it," she said.

Ford's stomach flipped. "Why?"

"It was a few days ago when he had to escape, and we didn't know if he'd be able to come back, so... he told me... to listen to the song, to remind me that we'd meet again..." Voice small, Mabel asked, "Is it a—bad song?"

Even as his heart still thudded against his ribcage, Ford felt guilt creep over his shoulders. He forced himself to swallow. "No, it's—the song is fine. Just... I'd appreciate if you didn't sing it."

Mabel said uncertainly, "Okay."

"I'm... sorry." Ford backed away from the desk, sat heavily in an armchair, and dropped his face into his hands to rub his eyelids. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

He could hear Mabel shift nervously in her seat. When he looked up, she'd reluctantly gotten back to work, dipping a paintbrush in Ford's coffee and smearing it around the map. Quietly, she asked, "It's something Bill did, isn't it?"

Ford took a deep breath in. "Bill decided serenading me was the best way to welcome me to his Fearamid. Right before he—demanded I tell him how to escape Gravity Falls."

Mabel stopped painting. "He didn't tell me that part."

"I suppose he wouldn't have."

Slowly, she asked, "Were you locked up? Somewhere you couldn't escape?"

What an odd question. "Er—yes. In what he called his 'penthouse suite'."

"Alone?"

"More or less. It was just the four of us: Bill, myself... two humans he'd turned into chairs..."

"Did he try to..." Mabel's words faltered for a moment. "Um... you know, like... win you over?"

Ford's stomach sank more with each question. "Ah."

The kids knew that he'd been Bill's prisoner, and that Bill had tortured him for information. That was the only thing he'd told them knew: he tried to torture it out of me. They were old enough to hear that much. They hadn't seen any wounds—Bill had made sure of that, effortlessly erasing Ford's wounds so he could inflict them all over again. But the kids had seen the singes and stains and tears in his clothes. They'd seen how jumpy Ford was the next few days; how he'd winced at aches not from the torture, but from how his body tensed and knotted his muscles in response to the fear and the memory of pain. They'd probably even been able to smell the torture, if not on him then on his clothing.

That was all they knew. They didn't need to bear any more weight from the knowledge of what Ford had endured.

Reluctantly, Ford said, "Yes. He did try to win me over. You know what he's like when he's trying to manipulate someone: he invited me to join his gang, offered me ultimate power, said we'd rule a lawless universe where we could do anything we want and all our dreams would come true, blah blah blah... I turned him down, of course." Mabel's interrogation had started light, but Ford knew what was coming next: and what did he do when you rejected his offers?

But there was a moment of silence; and then Mabel angrily smacked her paintbrush down on Ford's desk. "I knew it! That creep! Ough, I'm gonna..." She shoved back the chair and stomped toward the elevator, stopped herself, and stomped back with a loud groan of frustration. "Get it together, girl! It was a year ago. It can wait. Yell at him later." She dropped heavily into the seat, turned back to the desk, and huffed loudly.

Ford watched her, bemused. He appreciated her righteous indignation on his behalf and was glad she'd stopped asking questions when she did, but... "Knew what?"

"It's—" She shot him a guilty look; then set her jaw, turned away, and focused on the map. "If you don't know, you don't wanna know."

"Why not?"

Delicately, she said, "Because of... Bill bullsoup." She picked up her paintbrush and got back to weathering the map.

All right. There was Bill "bullsoup" he didn't want to share either.

Mabel asked, "Has he... been trying to get you to join him? Since he got here?"

Ford's blood ran cold. He didn't know why. Yes, Bill had tried; and been denied. Heck, Bill had been trying to get Mabelon his side harder than anybody else. So what was Ford worried about? "He has," he said, then corrected himself, "He did. I think he might have stopped. Now that he's no longer under the impression that you and I have a secret cult dedicated to him."

Mabel snorted. "I almost forgot that. He was so mad."

He was. But he'd gotten over his anger at Mabel pretty quickly; in fact, Ford didn't even know when he'd confronted her about it. On the other hand, Bill had hardly been willing to speak to Ford since then. Dragging him out during the eclipse hadn't helped, but... that certainly hadn't started it.

Why was Bill willing to forgive Mabel so easily but hold a grudge against Ford? "He hasn't tried to act friendly since then." Did he just think she was more fun? Had he finally decided Ford was too boring to tolerate when compared to Mabel's glitter and joy? Ford tried to keep his tone neutral as he said, "At this point, I almost feel like he'd rather see me dead than as his devotee."

But then—that wasn't true, was it? Because Bill had saved Ford's life.

But then... since Ford had spared Bill's life, he seemed more furious at him than ever. And Ford couldn't figure out why. It wasn't that Ford wanted Bill to like him any better, of course—of course.

He just didn't understand it.

"Then it's fine, I guess," Mabel said. "If it becomes a 'problem,' I'll let you know. I'm keeping an eye on him." Confidently, she said, "I'll be able to tell."

She probably would, Ford realized. He was beginning to feel like she understood Bill better than anyone else, in spite of how briefly she'd known him.

Ford had felt special once, over thirty years ago, when Bill had shown him the little crumb that had once been his home dimension. But now that he'd seen Bill cover an entire wall with a map of his home planet, its nations, and its nearest orbiting celestial bodies, just for Mabel... Ford was beginning to realize that was all Bill had ever given him: a crumb.

He tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous.

####

While the humans were busy with their assignments, Bill slipped away to his room to hide the envelope Soos had given him, filled with the unused wrappers and the fresh moss he'd harvested during the walk home. On another night, he'd sneak to the roof and lay out the moss to dry during the day—but not tonight, with all the humans awake. Still, it was nice to have some hallucinogenics in the house again.

After his first couple showers, Bill had quickly figured out the bare minimum amount of soap, shampoo, and scrubbing needed to get clean by the humans' standards; but the bathroom was still the one place in the shack where Bill could get full privacy without the humans feeling like they could just walk on in. He needed the humans to keep thinking he needed a full hour so they wouldn't check on him. So when he'd showered the previous night, he'd cleaned off as quickly as possible; sat by the door; focused his gaze on the bare bulb by the sink; and tried to meditate the anxiety away until someone knocked on his door and told him his time was up. The change Soos had made to the door meant Bill could get in and out of it by himself—but it also prevented the door from remaining ajar. It was always closed. With his mind magically blocked off from being able to tell the difference between a door that looked impassable and was impassable, the shut bathroom door made Bill nervous.

Tonight, he refused to take another shower. All human hygiene took was water and an unnecessary variety of soaps, the soaps were portable and he could get water as easily out of a sink as out of a bath tub. He washed himself up in the downstairs half bath with the curtain, scrubbing hard to ensure he got off all the makeup and any lingering evidence of that evening's tryst.

Then he steeled himself to the task of putting his hair back up.

Usually, Mabel would be more than happy to mess around with his hair, but she was busy with her own assignment. He wouldn't lower himself to asking any of the other humans for help. He'd handle it himself. Just a simple ponytail, he told himself. The kind of hairdo female humans used to convey that they cared about their hair when they really didn't. Easy. Gather it, get a band around it, you're done.

The Pines had removed the downstairs bathroom mirror to ensure Bill couldn't make blades from the glass. Bill wasn't sure if having the mirror would have made things easier—so he could see that the hair was sprouting out of normal human hair follicles rather than peeling flesh—or harder—since he'd have to make eye contact with the horrid misshapen alien beast in the mirror, all pores and nostrils and folds and flaps, and know that was him.

But since there was no mirror, there was no need for him to face the sink. He faced the toilet, lifted the lid and seat—he'd been getting less nauseous lately, but just in case—and attempted to comb his hair.

####

When Ford and Mabel came up, Bill was waiting in the living room, wearing black dress pants with a white button-up shirt under his hoodie, eyepatch flipped up so he could reapply his mascara. "Hey, it's about time! What took you?"

"You can't rush art," Mabel said. "What happened to your makeup? It looked so nice!"

"Agent Bermuda Triangle's already seen it. We don't want to give him any reason to get suspicious." He gestured at his sedate eyeliner, "I'm going for 'office worker who wants people to think she doesn't care about makeup but does care about her appearance.' How'd I do?"

"It looks boring."

"Thanks." He flipped his eyepatch back down.

Mabel handed over her masterpiece and Ford grabbed one half of the magic friendship bracelets before quietly heading out to the car. Bill was reluctantly putting on his half when Mabel caught his sleeve. "Heyyy buddy," she said. "We need to talk real quick."

"Oh, yeah?" A wary look entered his eye. "Then you'd better tell me what about real quick."

"Do you remember what you said yesterday about the best place for a first date?"

Bill frowned, puzzled. "Sure! Get your target somewhere they can't escape from until they love you and serenade 'em into submission."

"And can you tell me what you did with Grunkle Ford when you dragged him to the Fearamid."

"Used his petrified form as a backscratcher?"

"What?!"

Bill aparently realized that was not the answer Mabel was looking for—it was so much worse than the answer she was looking for—because he hurried on to reassure her, "Only for a couple days! Then I took 'im to the penthouse suite! Your uncle got the VIP treatment! I created some nice furniture, gave him a drink, played him a little piano music..." He petered out as he figured out where this was going. "Oh."

"Bill..."

"It's not what it looks like," he said quickly. "Locking people up and serenading them is like offering them their heart's desire: it works in tons of social situations, not just flirting!"

"I knew it!" Last summer, she hadn't even known that Bill and Ford had been friends until Weirdmageddon was over; but everything she'd learned about their relationship since then had been full of this weird jilted ex energy. The creepy stalker book that followed Ford around after Bill died, the weird thing with the omelet the night they captured Bill, the repeated attempts to recruit Ford to his side, the way Bill always got extra bantery around Ford, that one time Bill had told Mabel he'd decided to just believe Ford was his friend until it was true... "You didn't tell me that song was your love song to my grunkle, you creep."

"Wait, wait, wait! You've got this all wrong, kid."

"Don't gimme that! It's obvious. You're totally obsessed with him and always super weird around him. Yooou—" she gave his arm several accusatory pokes, "—have a crush."

"I'd rather just crush him," Bill said, with a grimace so convincing Mabel almost believed it wasn't fake. "I'm super weird at everyone, everywhere, 24/7! Stanford wasn't getting special treatment! The only reason I bothered with him is because he was the only person in the world who could get me out of the Nightmare Realm—that's what I was 'obsessed' with. Besides, I'd like to see you get murdered by some guy and not obsess over it a little bit! Trust me, he was just a pawn, a potential Henchmaniac at best! Anyway, all he brings to the table is an off-the-charts genius IQ and bad hygiene—and if that's what I wanted, I could get the same thing out of Waddles, and he's never gone on a thirty-year-vendetta against me—"

"You're doing that thing where you try to distract me by talking a whole lot." Mabel grabbed Bill's shoulders. "Listen. Bill. I'm totally in your corner in, like, life stuff. I want you to be happy. I wanna see you settle down with someone nice!" She tightened her grip. "But my family comes first. Grunkles before... before... um... grungles before triungles. And after everything you put Grunkle Ford through, he's off the list. Got it?"

Something shifted in Bill's face as it dawned on him that he wasn't talking to Matchmaker Mabel. "What a relief! I thought you were about to try to hook me up with that cretin." He didn't look relieved as he shoved her off and backed out of her grip. The way his nose wrinkled as he fought against letting his face twist into a full snarl, more than anything, looked like disgust. "He was never on the list. He's imprisoned me, insulted me, starved me, disrespected me, and murdered me. I'm not interested, I've never been interested, and ohhh—" he laughed harshly, "—has he ever made sure I'm never gonna be interested."

To her surprise, she didn't think he was lying. Maybe lying about how he used to feel—it wasn't that long ago that he'd admitted he was trying to manifest a friendship with Ford through sheer willpower—but he wasn't lying about how he felt now. What had changed?

"Bill?" Ford's whisper sounded too loud in the dark. He'd apparently doubled back when he realized Bill wasn't following, and was now anxiously peering around the corner. "What's the hold up?" Lurking in the dark somewhere behind Ford was the agents' black car, and Ford had his shoulders hunched up as if that could hide him from them.

Bill's eyes snapped from Mabel's face to Ford's without any change in his expression—and his look was so ferocious that Ford actually took a step back. Bill snapped, "I'm coming, keep your pants on," then hissed to Mabel, "Keep your crazy theory to yourself. I'm treated like scum already, do you know how they'll act if they think—"

"I wasn't gonna! I didn't even tell Grunkle Ford—"

"And for the record, being hated is my biggest turn-off. I don't even want to go to the museum with him, much less do anything else." Bill stormed past her. As he hopped off the end of the porch, he turned to walk backwards and gesture at Ford over his shoulder. "But thanks for reminding me how miserable this'll be!"

Ford shushed Bill; and as they disappeared around the corner, Mabel got the sinking feeling she'd made things worse—and Ford would probably be on the receiving end of it.

####

Dale and Trigger were still sound asleep in their car, knocked out by the sleeping pills Abuelita had dropped in their coffee, as Ford and Bill got in the car and headed to the museum.

####

(The first half of this chapter was written pre-TBOB, up to the point where Mabel puts two and two together and realizes Bill put Ford in the Love Cage™. I actually wasn't sure where to take that scene after Mabel finds out about the world's creepiest serenade from Ford, except that she oughta be getting pretty darn suspicious of Bill at that point; and I'd been needing an opportunity for her to confront Bill about her lingering background suspicions; so TBOB explicitly listing that as one of Bill's flirting strategies, when I already had a chapter about Bill's flirting techniques rough drafted, was perfect.

Beyond that, I only added a couple details post-TBOB: the "never date in a psych ward" line

I'm eager to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Next chapter is The Bill & Ford Show, and it's a big one for them, so look forward to that!)

[screeching-bunny]

I'm intrigued by the idea of yandere priest harem.

Just a bunch of sexually repressed men that now have a tangible person to 'worship'.

Yandere! Priest Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Tags: @endism

What the fuck. You can’t believe it but you accidentally started a cult. You weren't sure how but you managed to do it. Everything about it was planned perfectly for you. From the moment you were kidnapped to the moment where you gave in, there was always some sort of routine that the priest followed that seemed almost robotic. Every word or phrase spoken to you seemed somewhat rehearsed as if they were doing everything in their power to make you pleased and happy. Everything that you requested or asked for was quickly met. Did you just say that you were hungry? Don’t worry, wait a couple more minutes and a feast will be made just for you. Did something catch your eye while you were shopping? In a couple minutes it is purchased and given to you. Never in your life had you seen a group more downbad people then these priests. They are incredibly whipped for you and treat you as if you were some kind of God.

Although you were kidnapped you soon learned to just accept the role as their false God. Why? Well to simply put you were just plain lazy and if being kidnapped allowed you to live a luxurious life without needing to work then so be it. Screw having a job and screw having to pay for bills. You will accept this position with grace and take advantage of it however you would like. The only thing that bothered you was why the hell were people joining this stupid cult!?!? By now you expected the stupid priests to run out of money by now due to your spending habits but why on Earth are people still continuing to donate to them!?!? There just always seems to be a never ending supply of money!!!

“Did you see them? The God of this religion is such a cutie. Do you think I have a shot at becoming a priest? Hell, I wouldn’t even mind being a sacrifice to them.” (Go away).

“I just donated my entire retirement fund to them. It’s so worth it. Did you see how cute their sneezes are? I could literally just die!!!” (Then die).

“I shook their hand a few days ago with my right hand. I haven’t washed it since.” (Gross).

Dammit that's why. You're so called “followers” were nothing but a group of some weirdo simps. The only thing that you ever did around this place was give speeches to your cult that came right out of your ass and they would eat it up everytime too. It is so bad that you could literally say that the Earth was flat and they would go to war to defend that you were right. You’ve never seen a group of more stupider people. As of right now you were currently giving out one of those bullshit speeches to your followers.

“... which is why cats are superior over dogs. If you have a cat tell them I said pspspspsp.”

One of the priests raises their hand, “Can you repeat that whole thing again? That was super cute and I forgot to press record.”

Another priest responds with, “Don’t worry I caught it all and I’ll send it to you later. In exchange, can I have that limited edition picture of them sleeping with a teddy bear.”

Another voice shouts, “Wait! I have some never seen before photos of them. Are you willing to trade it for the limited edition picture?”

“...”

Later that night you soon discover that there is a “trading card game” going around the cult using your pictures. You weren’t even sure how they even managed to take these photos but they somehow have them and how were these mass produced without you even noticing!?!? Why are they out of stock and why are they so popular!?!? Everyday is a never ending migraine for you. Just when you thought the priests couldn’t disappoint you even further, they always manage to prove you wrong. If they weren’t the ones feeding you, you would have been long gone by now.

Waking up always felt like a struggle most of the time. Like it literally was a struggle because there was always someone in your bed with you. They would constantly cuddle up to you as close as possible and make it difficult to leave the bed with their weight holding you down. By the time you wake up breakfast is already made and there is someone constantly fighting to decide who gets to feed you. After breakfast, you stroll around the gigantic garden that was funded with the money of taxpayers. Afternoons are spent giving out wack speeches and talking to your loyal followers. Dinners are the same as breakfast and there is competition on who gets to bathe with you. Quite often these end up turning physical fights between everyone. During the night you're out like a light and it’s a repeat of everything the next day.

Every passing day makes you so concerned for the mental health of others. There is just no way that any of these people are mentally sane. They have to be on drugs or something. You refused to believe that these were rational adults that are contributing members of society. No matter how much you try to change your personality, they always find a way to coo at you. On the days that you act like a brat you are met with the responses of, “Oh my god look at them pout that's so adorable!! Now step on me–”. On the days you act lazy it’s met with, “You don’t have to move I’ll do it all for you! Just let me lick your–”. Are you acting happy today? Well that's met with, “Your smile is so radiant! You know what would make your day better if you let me suck–”. In the end though it really doesn’t matter because their main goal in life is to forever worship your being whether you like it or not.

[harrietswriting]

Could you do a little fic with Johnny or Pony x reader (platonically)?? I was thinking something where reader and Darry are dating, so she takes on the role of "mom," and one day, when the gang's all flopped around, Johnny/Pony accidentally calls her mom, and while everyone is kinda teasing him she thinks it's the sweetest thing ever

OKAY TYSM IM IN LOVE WITH UR WRTING 🤭🤭🤭💍💍💍

An: OMG THIS IS THE CUTEST IDEA EVER! Thank you for requesting it! 💕 I going to do this with Johnny

W: not proofread, reference to Johnny's mommy issues

Word count: ~1000

When you started dating Darry, you hadn't realized you'd not only be getting a boyfriend, but also 6 new friends. You quickly grew close to all of them since they seemed to always be at the Curtis's house and so were you. One of the boys you were particularly fond of was Johnny Cade. He was a sweet boy who clearly looked up to you and was one of the only boys who was excited when Darry brought you over for the first time.

Without even realizing it, Johnny was starting to see you as a mother figure. You were caring, sweet, patient, helpful, loving, everything Johnny wished his mother was like. You made him feel comfortable, like he could come to you when he was feeling down. You started to slowly become a safe space for him.

One night, you were over at the Curtis's and helping Darry make dinner. Well, really you were making dinner while Darry was ranting on about life. You feel bad for him, truly. Losing your parents then having to become your younger siblings' provider and guardian can't be easy.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with him, baby." He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed. "We can't afford a tutor for him. And, I mean, he's not stupid, he just doesn't put his full effort into school. A 68 in math isn't like him." Darry rambles on and shakes his head.

"I'll help him." You say.

He looks up and his eyes meet yours. "You don't have to do that."

"No, no, it's fine. I want to help him." You reassure him with a smile.

Darry smiles back and says, "Alright. Thank you."

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Dallas, Ponyboy, and Johnny. Soda and Steve were sitting on the couch in the living room, so naturally a choir of "Hey, guys"s, "Hi"s, "Hey man"s, start.

Ponboy walks over to the kitchen to inquire about dinner.

"Hey, what're you guys making?" He asks, looking between you and Darry as he stands in the entryway.

"Spaghetti!" You say, then you add more quietly, "It's one of the only things I can cook."

Darry chuckles and Pony smiles. "I like spaghetti." He tells you.

"Good."

Johnny approaches and stands next to Ponyboy in the kitchen entrance.

You smile. "Hey Johnnycakes."

"Hey Johnny." Darry nods. "You gonna stay for dinner tonight, kid?"

"Uh, sure. If that's okay." He responds. Of course it's okay, and you, Darry, and Pony all echo that statement at the same time, talking over each other. Laughter follows. Once it dies down Darry tells Pony that he has to finish his homework. He responds with a groan, "I know."

"Y/n will help you when we're done making dinner." Darry ruffles your hair with his hand and you swat it away.

"Really? Thanks." He says not very enthusiastically, clearly still not pleased about having to do homework at all.

"Don't mention it." You smile.

You suddenly remember that earlier today the news forecast said to expect lots of rain tomorrow, and since Johnny normally walks to school, you were going to offer to give him a ride.

"Hey Johnny?" You look at him.

"Yeah, mom?" He meets your eyes then processes what he just said. He instantly goes red and there's a look of almost- horror in his eyes. "I- I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." He quickly stampers.

Your heart melts, yeah, it was an accident, but he would've said it if he hadn't thought it. It makes you so happy that you provide that comfort for him. You simply smile, not wanting to embarrass him farther. "It's okay." You say. Darry looks so confused but doesn't say anything about it. Pony on the other hand, laughs. "Mom? Johnny, she's like 20!" He teases.

"I didn't mean to..."

"Cut it out, Pony." You say, and he shuts up. You huff then look back at Johnny sweetly. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow morning, so I was wondering if you wanted me to give you a ride." You look at Ponyboy, "I can give you a ride too, Pony, if you need one."

"Oh, sure.. thanks." Johnny says quietly. Poor guy's still flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, I can take Pony to school tomorrow." Darry says as he stirs the noodles in the boiling water.

"Darry, that's no fun!" The youngest Curtis complains.

"I'm no fun?"

"No."

You sigh, "It's fine, Darry. If I'm already taking Johnny, why not take Pony too? They're going to the same place."

Darry looks at you with a hint of admiration in his gaze. "Fine. You do too much stuff for us, you know." You smile. "I love helping you guys. You're like family." You press a quick kiss against his cheek and Pony gags.

"Ew."

"Be quiet, boy."

You and Johnny laugh at the interaction. Man, do those two have a strange dynamic.

"I'll pick you up at 7, Johnny, and Pony, some time soon after that."

The next morning you get up way earlier than usual so you can take these boys to school. You pick up Johnny first. When he opens the front door you realize his house is strangely quiet. His parents must like to sleep in. Once you two are in the car and you pull out of the driveway, Johnny speaks.

"Hey, I'm really sorry I called you mom yesterday. That was weird and I can't stop thinking about it. Like, that's so embarrassing."

"Oh, no, you're fine. It's okay. I really don't care." You try to reassure him.

"But also... some times... I wish I did have a mom like you. Uh, you're patient and caring. I wish my mom was like that. Sorry if that's weird."

You turn down the Curtis's street and shake your head. "Not weird. I'm a positive, women role model in your life and you don't have good a relationship with your mom. You don't have to keep apologizing. That's pretty normal."

"Oh."

You park your car in the driveway, then reach over and ruffle Johnny's hair with a smile. "Let's go get Pony, kid."

an: I didn't know how to end this 😢 hopefully you enjoyed it!