#trust me: I wish I were faster at this also

[wolfsbane-if]

Hello dear ☺️ I hope you are doing well. Just reaching out to know if you intend to resume the story or if you have abandoned the project altogether? I read the four chapters available at least 7 times already and everytime I am hoping for an update of the story. I know that writing a complete story is a tremendous amount of love, time and sweat but it is always frustrating and sad to start something promising and so enticing as a faithful reader for finally never get the end of it. I support u.

Hello, and thank you for enjoying Wolfsbane

I haven't abandoned the project, I've just decided not to update the public version of the demo until the entire first draft is complete. Unfortunately I have no idea when that might be, but rest assured that Wolfsbane - the version in my docs, that is - has seen progress since its last update

[caotictimmy]

I ATE THE WHOLE DAISUKE DATING HC AND I MUST SAY ALL THE BRAINROT THAT HAS BEEN STEWING IN MY MIND!!!

I think he's such a golden retriever bf 😭 like both ways— sfw and nsfw. HES SO DOWN BAD FOR YOU, he loves you so much and fjdkkd if his partner also has physical contact as a primary love language, he would die for headpats. Like genuinely, give this guy headpats be when you two are cuddling or when you are both in an intimate moment. You could reward him with a little patpat on the head when Swansea is not looking, and he would lean in to your touch a little bit before reminding himself, he needs to learn!! he needs to make you proud

NOW NSFW-WISEE.....

Praise kink goes so hard on him is insane

He could be eating you out with sparkles in his eyes, almost like asking if he's doing a good job, and if you do express it, tell him he's such a good boy, how good you are feeling because of HIM, he's going to go harder on you out of pure happiness—hes doing a good job!! you're like this because of his work and that amazes him

i could write more but my mind is a mess and im so sleepy wnwnkd.

🐁 out!!!

🐁 anon I love your thinking please don’t spontaneously combust. BUT IM SO GLAD THE HIM LIKING HIS HAIR/HEAD TOUCHED IS CATCHING ON OMG….

Sfw headcanons/thoughts

- Now that I’m thinking of it. I should have known he’d like head pats. LIKE I ALREADY GOT THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF VIBE FROM HIM.

- But he definitely loves getting head pats or his hair ruffled! Specifically he really likes it after/is doing something good. Like normal head pats are fine but. Knowing your giving him them because he did something good?!?!

- You guys have definitely gotten called weirdos by Swansea, cause you patted Daisuke’s head. Swansea wont say anything cause this man is emotionally constipated 💔. But he’s glad Daisuke has someone who Daisuke can be his true weird self.

- If your hand is somewhere close to his head, and he wants head pats. Daisuke will head butt his head against your hand to show he wants you to either play with his hair, pat his head, scratch his scalp, etc ect.

- I think like the first time he head butt your hand for attention was when y’all were cuddling. You had your hand by his head. And you weren’t taking hid obvious hints! (Slightly nudging at you). So well he just thunked his head against your hand. Ever since then he keeps doing that when he wants you to play with his hair

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (mostly AFAB some Gn )

- Omg please pull his hair. PLEASE. He loves it so much. Like holy moly. If you pull his hair while he’s deep inside. HES COMING IMMEDIATELY! Like pull just right and omg. It’s like a switch in his brain. And that man is going HARDER AND FASTER. Like I hope to burnt curly Anya can lend you a wheel chair.

- Omg just imagine Daisuke pulling his hair back during sex. OMG MY GYATTTT. Guys I see the light and it’s Daisuke pulling his hair back.

-(AFAB) I just thought of something. GYAHH IMAGINE SEEING DAISUKE TIES HIS HAIR BACK TO EAT YOU OUT(might need to make this into a FIC).I’m Actually foaming at the mouth. Guys wait let me cook.

“wait!”. Daisuke said. Before rolling a hair tie he had on his wrist for working on machines. Biting it as he collects his hair. Tying it up in a ponytail. Before pushing his sleeves up. Daisuke Looks back at You with a smile. “Now I’m ready” he say cheekily.

- Guys someone please draw Daisuke with a sexy man ponytail please I’ll be in debt with you. PLEASE HE’LL LOOK SO HOT JUST TRUST MY VISON!!!!

-(AFAB) Omg and grip his hair while he’s eating you out. Like omg if you’re pulling at his hair moaning. He’s gonna feel so good about himself knowing he’s pleasing you. Also if you ever shoved his face in your cunt while he’s eating you out. You gave yourself a death wish. CAUSE THIS MAN WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE TO PULL HIS HEAD AWAY.

You couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like he couldn’t stop. The pleasure was getting to much. You gripped his hair. Feeling him moan in you. You pull his head back, letting out that breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You could hear him catching his breath before hearing him let out a sad noise. You looked down seeing Daisuke giving you these sad puppy dog eyes. “Did I do something wrong.” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No no! Just needed-“. You huffed, “need..need a moment.” You said dazed. He paused for a moment. The glimmer in his eyes back with a vengeance. He starts to grin. “Did I..” He started. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning your slick off around his mouth. “Did I do good?” He asked. Daisuke happily looking up at you waiting for your response. His grin got wider as he felt your hand rub against his head.

Authors note: GYAHH I LOVED THIS REQUEST SMMMM. Like, reblogd, and especially comments are appreciated! This was so fun writing thud.

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!  Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

[eraenaa]

But Daddy, I Love Him

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader Tag List

Synopsis: When the favored daughter of Daemon Targaryen falls for the favored son of Alicent Hightower, the Rogue Prince does everything he can to ensure that a union between the two of you will never happen. 

Warnings: Not Proofread, ¿Softer Aemond and Daemon?, No Smut

Word Count: 5,019

It could no longer be denied nor be overlooked. It was growing painfully obvious to the court that the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra has had her head turned by the second son of Queen Alicent. Everyone believed that the only thing the second-borns of the Princess and the Queen would share was animosity. Still, the return of Princess Rhaenyra and her kin to the capitol brought something different— something entirely unexpected. It started with stolen glances around the tilt yard and the halls of the red keep. Stolen glances lingered throughout dinner and the trial. Meeting in the library by chance turned into secret rendezvous. Banter and teases blended into meaningful conversations. Animosity turned to affection. Loathing bloomed into love. A love that cannot be.

“You look lovely, today, niece,” Aemond complimented as he caught you in the gardens. The prince relished the sweet blush that spread through your cheeks. “Shh, you might be heard,” You whispered in concern as your brothers were only seated a few leagues away. He hummed and dared to twirl your silky, curly hair into his fingers. “Shall you join me for a ride today, uncle?” You asked and took a flower into your delicate hands. You turned to the silver prince, who had a small, rare smile as he peered down at you. You boldly placed the plucked flower into the upper pocket of his tunic. “If you wish,” He answered, making you bite your lip as he stepped closer. “To the dragon pits then?” You asked, and Aemond offered his arm for you to take, and you gladly did. 

Prince Daemon stood above the gardens and watched the scene with a sneer. He had been stewing in rage, fear, and uncertainty for the past few weeks. You could no longer be reasoned with. In his eyes, you could never do no wrong. You had never done anything wrong— his favorite daughter was perfect. But apparently, your return to the capitol had caused you to make a lapse in judgment. Trusting a Hightower spawn was a great mistake on your part. You, his smart and sweet daughter, have been corrupted and manipulated by the one-eyed bastard of a son of the bitch that had the title queen. It pained the Rogue prince, but he had to take extreme measures to ensure that you would never be bound and be played by a Hightower spawn. 

You rode the skies next to your uncle. A wide smile on your lips and laughs, leaving your tongue as he playfully chased you through the clouds. His Vhagar may be the largest dragon there is, but she is also the oldest. Whilst your dragon had the quickness and agility of youth. “You’ll have to try harder than that, uncle!” You yelled in glee as you heard his frustrated groan when he lost you through a cloud. “I will catch you, little niece— and you shall give me my prize when I do,” He answered back, and you laughed in glee as your dragon rode through a cloud, making your stomach flip. “That is if you shall succeed!” You yelled before urging your dragon to fly faster and further from the prince. 

The afternoon sun started to fade, bathing the two of you in the orange hue of the setting sun, and it was then that Aemond finally caught up to you. When you landed by the pits, you were quickly grabbed by the waist. Entrapped in the arms of an uncle you used to loathe. “I demand my prize, little niece,” He murmured by your ear. You feel your heart stutter, and at the same time, you feel conscious as the two of you may be caught. “I demand my kiss, princess,” he said, and you feel your breathing shallowed by his words and the sound of footsteps approaching. You two were luckily hidden behind the body of your beloved dragon. “Tonight, meet me in the library and you shall have my kiss, my prince,” You said and reluctantly urged him to let go of his hold of you. 

When the two of you turned to the reason for the footsteps, your brows furrowed as you were both met with a gold cloak. “Can we help you, Ser?” you asked as Aemond cautiously assessed the trusted man of your father; stepping in front of you as if the knight would harm you. “Princess, I was sent by your father to escort you back into the keep.” He bowed and answered, but that did not aid your confusion. “It’s fine; I shall ride back to the keep with my uncle,” You answered, but the knight insisted that he had a direct order from the Rogue Prince that you shall return to the Red Keep under his supervision. “Just go; I shall ride behind you,” Aemond finally spoke after a moment, guiding you to the wheelhouse and glaring at the knight who interrupted the supposed private moment between the two of you. 

When inside the castle walls, you were greeted by your father and eldest brother as you disembarked the wheelhouse. “I see you have met Ser Adam,” Your father remarked at the knight who helped you step out of the carriage. “He shall be your sworn protector,” Prince Daemon added, his gaze turning to a prince who greatly reminded him of himself during his youth riding, following closely behind you. “Sworn protector? I— I do not believe there is a need fo—“ Your father cut you off, taking your arm and stirring you further from the one-eyed prince who dared to step closer to you after he had disembarked his horse. “You are the only daughter of the heir to the throne— of course, you need protecting. Ser Adam shall be constantly by your side, and he shall report back to me and your mother for any potential threat that arises.” You looked back, confused, locking eyes with Aemond, who had his jaw clenched as he conversed with your brother. 

“So I take it that my sister and brothers have their own sworn protectors as well?” You asked, feeling that you were singled out by your father’s sudden paranoia about your safety. “They too shall have one… in time,” He mumbled the last part, making your head snap up at him. “But in the meantime, Ser Adam shall oversee your ventures and activities. No more venturing out in the halls in the dead of the night alone. He shall be there by your side if any danger arises while you are in the dim walls of the library,” Your lips part as you realize that the knight was placed as a buffer, a wall between you and Aemond. You bit your tongue and made no further comment about the matter for now. 

When dinner came, you were excited because it meant that you would be in the presence of Aemond once more, enveloped in quiet conversation with the prince who sat by your left. But a frown adorned your pretty face once more as your seat beside Aemond was removed and instead placed cramped between Aegon and your elder brother. You hear Aemond’s familiar footsteps approaching; you turn to him as your brother guides you to your new place. Aemond knew exactly what they were doing. His jaw tightened as they had been keeping you from him. He knew he should have been cautious with his affection when out in public, knowing it would not be received well. But how could he restrain himself? How could he control himself when you are near? 

Throughout dinner, the two of you were silent, missing, and already longing to be by each other’s side once again. The prince’s face was filled with annoyance, his lips in a thin line. You held a look of solemnity, and a pout adorned your plush pink lips. Daemon turned to Jacaerys, the two of them satisfied with their tactics in keeping you and Aemond out of each other’s company. 

After dinner, you hear your newly assigned knight trail behind you as you walk the path toward the library. You sighed as you heard the clank of his armor. “You can stay by the door, Ser Adam,” You say as you approach the silent room, Aemond already waiting for you in your favorite spot. “I am afraid that I cannot abide by your orders, princess,” He said, and you bit your tongue; you could not let out your frustrations upon him as he was only ordered by your father. You took your seat across from Aemond; the prince eyed the knight who stood behind your chair. 

“What is he doing here?” Aemond asked in ancient tongue, annoyance seeping through his tone. “My father has instructed him to follow me wherever I go… instructed him to report back all of my ventures,” You answered and played with the embroidery of your fine dress as your pals for the night with Aemond were now ruined. “They are keeping you from me,” Aemond gritted, his hand clenching in anger. “And why should they do that?” You asked with a tilt of your head, moving to take hold of his hand, but the knight behind you cleared his throat as if a warning. You sighed and licked your lips and clamped your hands in front of you. “Because they are scared— threatened that…” Aemond caught himself before he uttered the deep truth he had realized just a week after you had returned. “That what?” You asked in common tongue. Aemond sighed and shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That I would burn for you, little light. That we are dragons that need to be bound by blood.” 

You, being the watchful eyes of your sworn protector, did not last long. Aemond had commissioned some of the guards to pick a fight with your knight, and it left him bloody, bruised, and bedridden. Buying the two of you a small amount of freedom in each other’s presence before your father could find a replacement. 

The two of you were in the godswood, hidden behind the white, ashy trunk of the Weirwood tree, away from anyone’s view. Aemond laid his head on your lap as you read a book written in the language of your house, him listening intently to your honey voice as it read fluent Valyrian. “You still have not given me my prize,” The prince suddenly said as you paused from reading. You turned to him, gazing down at the serenity on his handsome face as he lay on your lap.  One of your hands intertwined with his and resting atop his chest. “What?” You asked, feeling your stomach flip at the intensity in his eye. “You still have not given me my kiss,” Aemond said, voice growing deeper and more serious. 

You tried to laugh it off, moving your intertwined hands to your lips and kissing the back of his hand. “There,” you say, but Aemond sat up from his position. “That is not the kiss we discussed, princess,” He whispered, face inching forward to yours. You feel his cold hand on the apex of your neck and shoulder, pulling you in and sending gooseflesh to rise all over your skin. “Just one kiss,” You whispered as his lips were so close to yours, his scent of cedar wood, mint, and leather so intoxicating. “We’ll see,” he said and smashed your lips. Your heart stuttered for a moment, feeling his warm, soft, wine-tasting lips upon yours. It was supposed to be only a chaste kiss, you knew you should pull away, but as Aemond placed his hand on your waist and pulled you close, you knew you did not have the strength nor want to do so. 

Unbeknownst to you, your secret actions with your uncle were caught by your eldest brother, who did not hesitate to run to your mother’s husband to report the scene. On how yours and Aemond’s lips danced, on how you grinned at each other as you acted to catch your breath, gazing at each other love-struck. On how your kiss under the scarlet leaves of the ancient tree had only solidified your emotions and deepened your desires for each other.

You were soon called to your mother’s chambers later that afternoon. “No, please! Please, you cannot do this to me— why… why would you marry me to him?” You cried to your mother as they announced that you were to be sent to the North as a bride for its warden. It was the extreme measure your father had to take to keep you away from Aemond. Sequestering you into the frigid wasteland just so a one-eyed dragon would not lay more of its claim on you. “You had promised me I was free to choose whom I shall marry!” You cried in front of them, knowing your tears had always been your trusted weapon to bend them to your will. “I’m sorry, my love… but, the crown needs allies… a union with Lord Stark is vital.” You shook your head, “The North is already sworn to you! You need not promise me to their lord,” You countered. “It was a decision your father believed had to be made, and it is to—“

Your mother’s words faded out, and you could only focus on how it was your father’s orders to offer you to a lord you had not even met. His cruel way of keeping you from Aemond. “My father is dead,” You suddenly gritted out, silencing your mother in shock as you said the bitter words. Though you were a product of Ser Harwin Strong, and the kingdom was made to believe that your paternity came from the line of Ser Laenor— neither of those men were fathers to you. Not like Daemon was. It stung you to say such words, but you were overly hurt that he had made such a decision just to keep you from the prince you loved. 

“My father is dead; how could he have made such a decision?” You asked and dug your fingernails into your palms. Your mother sighed as you and Daemon stared each other down. “Daemon made the decision,” She clarified. “You are heir to the throne, but you would let a prince consort dictate the future of your only daughter?” You asked, menacingly. Watching the way your step-father’s jaw ticks at your impertinence. He did not know how to handle you in such a state; you were never one to rebel, but what was there to rebel against when everything you had ever wanted was quickly given to you? 

“That is beside the point, my love; you still need to marry.” Your mother said, and you shifted your gaze to her. “I know! And I am happy to do so just as long as—“ Daemon cut you off. “Just as long as what?” He asked, “Just as long as it will be Aemond.” You proclaimed. “I wish to marry him, and he wishes to marry me as well! You are the only one against this!” You all but screamed with a stomp of your foot. Making your father roll his eyes and disapprovingly shake his head as they had filed you up with their lies. “You see, Nyra… look at how they had manipulated our daughter… they filled up her head with falsities— this had been their plan all along.” Daemon reasoned to your other, who looked in between the two of you with concern and cluelessness on how to proceed. 

“Look at how they corrupted her… arguing, yelling, insulting us just to defend their disfigured son. They are playing her!” he spat bitterly. “Do not call him that,” you gritted to Daemon as he uttered offense toward Aemond. There was a silence that enveloped the room before you finally spoke once more. “Father, please… I love him,” you pleaded, ready to beg on your knees just for you not to be sent as a bride for a wolf. Daemon looked at your eyes, sincerity in your orbs, gut-wrenching sadness as pearl tears ran through your cheeks; that still did not sway his mind. “The decision is made. You shall be Cregan Stark’s bride.” He stated and walked off, leaving you to cry and wail in your mother’s arms. 

Aemond eyed you with concern as you sat dejectedly in your place next to your brother and his. Your head hung low, and not once had you cast your enchanting eyes upon him— or anyone else for that matter. His hold on his knife is tighter as he realizes you have not a bite of your supper. His gaze went murderous as he finally saw your bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. They had made you cry. He turned to your father, a harsh look on his face, whilst your mother looked at you wistfully. Aemond then turned to Jacaerys, a smug look on his plain face.

As supper ended, Aemond was the first to leave the table. He made fast steps and entered your chambers to hide there, needing to speak with you, and he was certain that would not be possible whilst you were in the presence of your kin. He hid behind the pillar as he heard the door creek and your somber voice bidding Lucerys ‘good night.’ When he heard the door shut and bared, he made his presence announced. 

It was then that he saw a clear view of your state: eyes swollen and red, lips trembling, nose sniffling, soft cheeks flush with sadness. “My light… what has happened?” he asked. You said no word, only ran to his arms and let you hold him as the tears came like rivers once more. “They’re… they’re marrying me to Cregan Stark,” You said in between sobs. Aemond felt the air knocked out of him, his form turn rigged and was immediately filled with dread. “What?” He asked, hoping what he heard was a misunderstanding. “They offered me as a bride to Cregan Stark. He shall arrive in a few days to be presented to grandfather, and we shall leave for the North in a fortnight.” 

Aemond sat you down on your plush bed, wiping away your hot tears with his cold fingers. “You will never be his,” he swore, looking deeply into your eyes as your tears did not cease. I shall speak with your parents,” he said and tried to soothe you by running his hand through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Aemond, they wouldn’t even listen to me… their minds are made,” You said sadly. Your prince only shook his head and kissed the top of your brow. “You are a dragon. Wolves do not deserve dragons,” was all he said before kissing your lips again, hoping the action would distract you from your sadness because he could no longer stomach seeing you cry. 

“They would never approve of us,” You whispered to Aemond as he held you to his chest. He tried to lull you to sleep, but your mind was distraught. “I do not care for their approval,” he uttered atop your head, inhaling deeply the scent of you. “But—“ You hear Aemond sigh and pull you closer to his leather-clad chest. “You will be mine, my light, just as it ought to be. Forget their qualms and objections— my uncle and his disapproval is a challenge I’ll happily welcome, just as long as you will forever be mine.” He stated as his fingers twirled your hair, “Let us just rest, ñuha ōños,” he murmured, and you did as told. Savoring the first and probably the last time in his hold. 

“What are you planning?” Ser Criston asked as Aemond spent more hours in the tiltyard. The arrival of his betrothed had only spurred him to fight harder, train more, and let out his rage at the knights. “Pick your weapon,” was all the prince said as he wiped away the sweat off his forehead. “Tell me the reason for your more frequent sessions first,” the knight stated. Lilac eye flickered above the tiltyard, Aemond's jaw clenching and nostrils flared as he saw you walking around with the warden of the north, chaperoned by your brother. Ser Criston’s eyes followed the prince’s gaze, realization shining through his brown orbs. “My prince, you��“ He was cut off. 

“I shall be challenging the warden to a duel for the hand of my niece,” he proclaimed and urged the knight to pick up his weapon. “But she is a bastard,” Ser Criston muttered lowly. Aemond's eye widened, and he had to greatly retrain himself from maiming the knight who stood as his father figure. “She will be my wife.” He proclaimed and returned to his training. 

When all were gathered in the throne room to announce their betrothal to Lord Stark, Aemond stepped away from his sibling and drew out his sword, bravely challenging the warden in front of the eyes of the court and his father, the king. You felt your stomach pit in fear, for you did not know that this was the plan Aemond had devised. You had half the mind that he would have the two of you escape to YiTi and live freely there. You hear your father and brother’s disapproval of the duel, but you hear your grandfather’s agreement to it. Lord Stark had little choice but to accept the challenge. You turn to your mother, her lips in a thin line and hands fiddling with her rings, her expression unreadable as he watched men argue before the throne, dictating her only daughter’s fate. She felt your eyes upon her, and she took your hand into hers as fear was evident in your gaze. “It will be fine, my love,” She muttered lowly, but you had trouble believing her words. 

When night came, the supposed family supper was discarded as both sides were furious and confused at what had transpired in the throne room. “She will not marry him— I would rather feed myself to Caraxes than watch our daughter marry a spawn of those cunts.” Daemon muttered to his wife and downed a whole chalice of wine, quickly moving to refill it once more. “She loves him,” was all your mother could mutter as she plainly saw the affection in your eyes. “And he loves her,” she added as he saw the tenderness and warmth in her half-brother’s usually cold, lone eye. Daemon scoffed and turned to his wife. 

“Not you too— Rhaenyra, you cannot buy into their deceit! You cannot let your daughter be bound to that—“ The princess cut her husband off. “Why? Why are you so against this? Put your pride and animosity towards Otto and Alicent aside… our daughter has made it clear that she wants Aemond— and he, too, made it clear that he wants our daughter. There is no underlying deceit from his intentions… what will they even gain? The crown passes to Jacaerys; Aemond wants our daughter, not for power or whatever reason you had sold yourself to greatly disagree to this match!” Daemon shook his head at his wife’s words. “We need allies. We need the North.” He said, but Rhaenyra shook her head. “You are preparing for a war that may not come— already sacrificing our daughter on the way! And she is right. The North is already sworn to me. A Stark never forgets their oath. And if they need further convincing, my daughter and her happiness is too great a price to pay for them to keep their word.” Your mother defended. She watched as her husband’s jaw clenched and his hold on the chalice grew tighter. 

“Daemon, you and I had both been subjected to marriages, not of our choosing, a marriage devised for peace and power but ultimately led to death and devastation… you cannot be so cruel to subject her to such a fate.” Rhaenyra said softly and walked towards her husband, urging him to change his mind. The prince breathed out heavily, “We shall see in the duel if he truly deserves her,” 

You nervously traced the embroidery of your dress as you watched your prince battle with the Warden of the North. Both men still yet to tire as they galloped towards each other with their jousting sticks. You feel your mother reach for your hand as your leg bounces up and down in anticipation and fear. You took in a sharp breath as the Warden was thrown off his horse, and Aemond was quick to disembark his and draw out his sword. You chewed on your lip as you shielded your gaze from the men, your bloodstream filled with fear as you heard the clang of swords and their exhausted grunts. You hear the cheers of the audience grow louder, and you feel bile rising to your throat. You shut your eyes tightly and prayed to the gods and fates for it to end soon— for it to end and for Aemond to emerge victorious. 

Your prayers were quick to be answered as you snapped your eyes open at the enraged screams of your brother and father— the prince having the warden on his knees and a sword upon his throat. “Surrender, my lord,” The prince breathed, his eye scanning upwards, in search of you. “Surrender, and you will keep your life!” The prince yelled, and you fisted your dress with each moment the warden did not concede. But when he finally raised his arms up and dropped his sword, lowly saying his surrender, you were finally able to breathe freely. “Our champion, Prince Aemond Targaryen!” Someone yelled, and cheers hollered around you, but they were quick to fade as your eyes locked with the man you can now call your soon-to-be husband. 

The wedding was quick to come, no matter the reluctance of your father and older brother. You were marrying Aemond. Other members of your kin were finally accepting the union, seeing how you both were truly enthralled and in love with one another. They no longer held disapproval as they realized how bright and intense you burned for each other. 

You were in your chambers, the final preparations made to you as you were about to be bound to the one-eyed prince in the eyes of men and the gods. “You look… you look exquisite, my sweet,” Your mother sighed and cupped your cheeks, her eyes and voice filled with heavy emotion. You tightly embraced your mother as she was the only one who was truly on your side when it came to your union with Aemond. Your heart throbbed melancholically as you were to be married without the support or blessing of the man who had become your father. You walked out of the chambers with your mother by your side, her being the only one to escort you towards the grand doors that would lead you to the great hall where Aemond waited by the end of it. She gave you one last kiss on your cheek before stepping aside and walking towards a side entrance and waiting along with the other guests; absent was the presence of Daemon. 

As the banquet went on and your hand was freely clasped around your husband, you tried not to let your sadness be shown as the man who stepped in, as your father was not anywhere in sight. Aemond could feel your sadness no matter how hard you tried to hide it; he brought the back of your hand to his cool lips and hoped it brought you comfort. You flashed him a small smile and leaned in closer, “A dance, my wife?” He asked, his heart stuttering as a genuine smile spread to your lips. 

He led you to the floor and placed his hand on your waist. No more secret touches, no more possibility of scandal, for in the eyes of the gods and men, you were Aemond’s, and Aemond was yours. As your husband spun you around and kept his steady hold upon you, your mind was finally distracted by the sadness it felt as Daemon was absent on your most joyous day. The thought of your father did not occur to you as you danced until you and your husband saw him approaching. Aemond was attentive to your reaction as he approached, ready to challenge his uncle for the distress and sadness he bestowed upon you. “I wish to dance with my daughter,” He announced, and you felt Aemond’s hold on your waist tighten; he was about to speak, but you nodded and reassured him it was fine. Aemond reluctantly stepped away, and you were left in the presence of your father. 

There was silence at first as you were once again spun for the dance, but you soon broke it. “You did not attend our ceremonies.” You said, voice a tad bitter and resenting. You hear your father’s aggravated sigh. “I know you think he is playing me… I know you believe this whole ordeal is a farce, but it’s not. He loves me, father. And I love him greatly,” You say and urge him to understand. “You— your marriage is something I do not approve of.” You hear him utter, making your stomach pit, “But it is clear that you truly love him…” he trailed, his eye turning to your husband, who had his watchful gaze upon you, ready to come to your aid, the moment he sensed distress. “… And I suppose his intentions are genuine,” he relents. You turn your now hopeful gaze upon him, “I do not believe he deserves you, but if he truly makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way? I will not hinder you anymore.” You processed her father’s words. “Do you truly mean it?” You asked, voice thick with emotion, “I do,” he sighed and kissed the top of your head. You smiled widely as heaviness in your heart faded with the blessing of your father was finally bestowed upon you and your husband.

Other fics in this universe: Mine (part 2) and King of My Heart (Part 3)

[pinkisthenewangst]

°`🍨: Kei Tsukishima + First Years x GN! Reader

°`🍨: Being a bet hurt so damn much

You knew boys were dumb with their stupid puberty that makes them go crazy. You knew from the beginning that first year high school will probably feel and also end like middle school all over again but you still felt disappointed. Disappointed to actually believe that it will not happen again and to fell for a tall, handsome and surprisingly intelligent boy until someone tries to attack his ego. You should have known that suddenly getting friends and being confessed to was too perfect for your boring and lonely life.

Realizing that was when you stand beside the clubroom door of the volleyball team. Silently listening to the boys, who talked while changing to their sport outfits. You didn't want to eavesdrop but when you heard your name, you couldn't stop listening. Clutching the straps of your bag in your hand. Biting on your trembling lips while blinking away your tears. Placing the fabric of Tsukishimas Jacket to your mouth so you wouldn't accidentally let out a sob. Doing all of this just to hear that everything was a lie. Being friends with you out of pity. Your relationship only being a bet. It hurt so damn much. "Oi Tsukishima ! How does the lover boy feel to almost reach the third month of your relationship ~?", you heard Tanaka's booming voice through the door. Then it was silent for a short moment until the tall one answered: "Made me realize that relationships robbing me from my precious time and I can't wait to be free, but seeing your faces when you lose is actually worth it". Ouch. Being a bet wasn't something new to you and he knew it. He was the one that told you about it in middle school and now he does the same. You heard more chaotic screaming and laughing, not really able to believe that all the first year knew about it and also the second years you saw as reliable senpais. You then also heard Kageyama talk: "I'm not good with people like her, it feels suffocating to even just stand beside her." Then Hinata continued: "At least she isn't boring!". It hurt so damn much. Not able to listen anymore, you slowly walk down the stairs. Walking past the third years that greeted you happily but you only gave them a nod and a small bow before you started to sprint so they couldn't see the tears in your eyes. You knew boys were stupid but you were also dumb for thinking it would get better. You wished the world would just swallow you whole to stop your suffering.

It felt weird. Eating alone after having finally some people to talk to about hobbies and homework. It also felt rude to just run and ignore them when they tried to talk to you. But you were so hurt and unable to trust them anymore. Not knowing what was a lie, a bet or the truth made your heart crumble in your chest. Seeing them look confused also fed the guilt in your stomach. You should be a better friend. Less boring, less annoying and more how they wanted you to be but this was not possible. Changing took a lot of energy that you didn't have. All the joy you felt until this tragic day, left you completely. Only an empty feeling remained. Looking at Tsukishima from far away didn't make your heart beat faster anymore, it only brought tear to your eyes. Seeing the chaotic duo of Hinata and Kageyama only made it hard to speak without your voice cracking. Feeling the hand of Yamaguchi on your shoulder when he tried to give you something back, made you tense and stiff. Walking through the school made you fear that everyone knew how stupid you were to fall for this bet and how they would start to laugh at your suffering. It took Nishinoya by surprise when you jumped out of your skin when he greeted you at the entrance of the school and how fast you ended your conversation when it sometimes went on until he needed to run to his class. Ah they suddenly started to feel it. The empty place since you weren't there anymore. It even bugged Tsukishima more when he didn't get any answers from you after he messaged you. It also started to hurt. Made his heart sting seeing you not looking at him anymore. His fist shook beside him seeing you smile at Sugawara but something like sadness took over his feelings when your face dropped to a neutral expression when the third year disappeared. Something wasn't right but he didn't know how to fix it. In the first time of his life, he felt heartbroken and unable to decide what to do. How unfortunate that everyone around you and him were just so stupid and dumb.

°`🍨: Tadaaaa ~ Another one but it's not really Tsukishima focused but it also is 🤔

°`🍨: REQUESTS ARE OPEN until 25th of Aug.

[nautls11]

ok but hear me out: riptide x slay the princess (big ol yap sesh and closeups below)

Chip: The Spectre

109, obviously, but also the spectre’s yearning for what once was, wanting back her “freedom” of the life she had before. The parallels between the spectre’s longing and Chip’s longing for his life with the Black Rose Pirates work so well together. Another factor is how Chip needed to learn that he was not alone anymore. He had a crew, friends, captains, siblings. Through his ups and downs, he learned respect, trust, honor, and responsibility; he learned to love again with a fiery passion he had not felt since he sailed alongside Arlin.

“I offer you absolution, and you take my hand in yours.

You felt the pain you caused another, and you were willing to sacrifice everything you thought was you to set me free.

Without sin, there is no redemption.”

“This one is vaporous. She is a dream of a life she could never have, but that longing has given her so much capacity for Kindness. She will make for a yearning heart.

Do not mourn her — she will finally be able to hold What she never knew.”

Jay: The Cage

I was heavily debating between Jay and Gill for this one, but the Cage’s final confrontation is what sold Jay for me. Her constant fear of abandoning her blood family because she has already lost so much (her sister, and soon her mother), that abandoning the last shred of family she has left would be losing everything. It is her inaction which drives much of her conflict, balancing the line between Ferin and pirate, because no matter which side she turns to, she is always afraid, because she always has something to lose. There are times where she feels like she can only watch from afar and see what will happen (especially in the case of lizzie’s war), but she must understand that inaction is most often a deficit. She has proven herself time and time again to others, she just needs to prove it to herself.

“Fear is a chain around the neck and a needle in the eye.

It was fear that made our prison, and it was fear that told the lie that

our spirits were not free to choose.

But together we left it all behind, and found a world free of burdens.

We found the beauty in accepting our dance.

This construct is a machine of fear. It has no place in our divine hearts.

Shatter it. Leave with me.”

“This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes. She will make for a watchful heart.

Do not mourn her. She is now what she wished that she could be.”

Gill: The Drowned Grey

Unlike the others, I couldn’t really find a princess that fit gill as well as the others did, so I decided to do a more specific moment of gill’s story for his princess: his oath of vengeance and dunjon arc.

The Drowned Grey is a story of hurt, loss, and rebirth. Gill loses everything; his friends, his closest companion, and is taken away from the life he once knew to be trapped in an endless white void, to be judged by the apparitions of those who had always judged him before. He is raw, violent emotion, rage being the only way he knows to understand his pain, and thus inflicts it onto others. His actions endangered those who wanted to help him be because all he could process was his loss. And that loss he screamed at the elder’s with his entire soul, only to be swept away in the dark depths of Niklaus’ control. But after the anger, was his rebirth. He was never meant to remain in an endless void for eternity, and Born anew in the eye of a leviathan’s storm, the violence and grief was left behind him in the cold icy storm. He had his catharsis, leaving those demons behind him in the darkest depths.

“I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me.

Hollow eyes watch from the dark corners of a forgotten place flooded by emotions left unspoken. The tide rises.

I kill you and me.

An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life.

And without me, all that's left to do is linger.”

“This one is guarded sorrow. She saw herself as alone but in the end had courage to share with another. She will make for a deep heart.

Do not mourn her - she has finally been heard.”

anyways uhh thanks for coming to my tedtalk, i lowkey wanna do this for other campaigns, currently thinking about prime defenders and the suckening so ye 👍👍

[girlwithbloodyfangs]

how consciousness is connected with manifestation

So I watched this youtube video called "Strange Experiences Of Consciousness That I Have No Scientific Explanation Or Proof For But That's OK" by goobie and dobbie.

listening to him, he shared his strange magical experience in his life, how everything is connected ,how everything is just a consciousness, how we all can feel the truth / existence / each other....because we all are somehow somewhere is connected with each other , might we are all one or maybe everything is just me/you and experiencing my/our imagination...i mean it could get a lot much deeper but one thing is for sure that everything is just an consciousness. i also recently discovered an instagram profile where this guy talks about after death experience shared by people while they were hypnothiest , he talks about some experiment which would have been done on people, like kids sharing their past life experience..they still remember their past life, talking about how we all souls have free will to experience things , we all have multiple soulmates....a lot of bunch things, overall focusing on the after death experience....i think everything is depend on your belief system, only if you allow things to be true, i think every possible thing that you can imagine it exist. things you have never imagined could also exist, in simple words possibility is infinite, as creation is already done all the possibilities already exists. This world is full of magic, creativity and art..we make things beautiful and strange at the same time. I find it cool to be honest. As that guy shared his dream experience in his video, how his dream was connected with strange things happening around him and somehow guiding him for good and giving him clarity in terms of his life choice...which is strange and cool at the same time..in conclusion everything is connected. I don't know, I just find this fact so mesmerizing.

So I would like to connect this information with manifestation :)

About manifestation, i think it's really just the easiest thing ever to experience your desire in 3D, cause everything is connected. right ? If I want something, I can just decide that I have it and for sure will experience it because it is meant for me ( not in future terms that I will but with faith and knowing that yeah, it's guaranteed ). because I know everything is connected so if i would focus on that one thought it would influence that thing and i would attract that thing in my reality. one thing i know for sure that everything happens in your favour and by your choice. If you have negative/positive beliefs (which most probably shapes your 3D reality) , if you want something different from your beliefs that you have built overtime, you can just take a break and think from a relaxed mind and decide what you want, instead of worrying and having fear or doubts. just give it a try, don't force it and imagine it. imagine things to be more easy and things always go with a flow as you favour it. manifestation is just deciding what you want and trust that it is meant to happen, well happy news for you because everything is connected (consciousness) it meant to happen. Another reason why persistence and repetition have been called the key to manifestation. Do yourself a favour trust that it's done, visualize as much as you can, affirm as you remember about your desire, think as "what would you think if you already have your desire", try to be in wish fulfilled, at the end of the day it is meant to happen so keep up with the faith and ignore those opposing thoughts.

Final talk about time!!!! well, it depends on your belief, if you think you can manifest instantly then you do otherwise you don't. As for a fact time is just an illusion/ imagination, it doesn't exist not even for your subconscious mind. So what you do to manifest things faster is by persisting, repetition ,being in the knowing state that it's done and keeping up with your faith. if something doesn't align perfectly in your 3D, please don't torture yourself by questioning, why? instead reaffirm with confidence and faith.

btw this is my first own blog, i hope it will be helpful to those of you who are new to manifestation and want to gain some clarity.

so, I would call this my today's epiphany or a journal. if it helps you, i am glad...have a nice day and happy manifesting.

~keep slaying ;) #girlwithbloodyfangs

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Next chapter

a/n: blame TTPD for this… idk why I keep doing this to myself.

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warnings: past trauma, mean people, age gap but everyone is of age so calm down.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Azriel wasn’t sure who or what he was blaming for the situation that was unfolding. He could blame Rhys, who had put him on this duty. Could blame himself. He had been sloppy during his last assignment and nearly died in the middle of it. Meaning that he had to knock it down a tad. Just until he was fully recovered. And then he could raise his middle fingers at fate. Because she was laughing at him now. He should have just stayed put for a couple more months. Keep it to himself that he was itching to do something. Not sit there practically begging for an assignment. Well, now he dug his own grave, and he was forced to lay in it. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Azriel pushes back from the outside wall. Fluttering his wings a couple of times. A short-term thing, Rhys had said when he slipped the document onto the table. It had taken one glance for Azriel to feel the bitter taste in his mouth. But he hated saying no. Even if babysitting wasn’t on his list of duties.

"Ah, sir, it’s so lovely to see you. It is an honor to have the shadowsinger in our presence," an unfamiliar voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making Azriel’s head spin to the side. He had truly been just standing outside the villa for way too long. “Azriel will do just fine," he breathes out, turning to who he assumed was one of the servants. The sweet older man smiles, “I assume you are here to see the high lord." There’s no bitterness in his voice, and there's a true sense of pride there. “Unfortunately...", Azriel grunts, making the male practically gasp under his breath before he quickly pulls himself together. A fake version of the smile he had given Azriel, now neatly plastered on his face, “This way, please.”

Azriel doesn’t let his eyes wander as he walks through the halls. They were never familiar to him, and he doesn’t plan on changing that ever. So he strides along with the servant, wishing he could walk just a little faster. But by the sudden sharp turn, Azriel is quick to realize that no one is taking him to the belly of the beast. A side sunroom. That almost makes Azriel smile. He liked that he wasn’t trusted enough to be greeted in the main office. 

"Azriel," a voice that never failed to make Azriel frown, greets him as soon as the wooden door opens. "Eris," Azriel says, fixing his eyes on the male in front of him. A male who looked surprisingly awful. Eris loved looking good and not letting others see the real thing hiding behind the fox mask. "Sit," the new high lord gestured to the plush armchair, but Azriel shakes his head, “I rather not.” Eris lets out a sigh. “I’m sure you’ve seen the request," he says, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Bald of you to request anything truthfully," Azriel crosses his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugs at the fireling lips, “Maybe I like stooping low from time to time.” 

But Azriel refused to let on, “You hid her. You went behind the law." That was the first thing he had said to Rhys as well. But, of course, there were exceptions for the royal families even there. “I didn’t hide her," and here it was in that much firmer tone, one that always jumped out when one accused Eris of anything, “Beron did. Used her to control me. Too many souls know that she is a weak link”, “Surprised you didn’t just leave her by the border the way you did with Mor" Azriel cut in, letting that bubbling frustration ooze out. Even if he had promised himself he wouldn’t stoop so low, “She was also a weak link, wasn’t she?”, he jabbed, making Eris clench his fists. From the fire burning in his eyes, Azriel knew that the bite back would be as lethal as it probably would have been if not for the noise outside the room. The sound of feet and a figure practically falling through the door. 

"Eris," the voice was breathless, notes of laughter still on it. Tapping of the paws followed suit. As two hounds brushed past the folds of your skirt, rushing towards their true owner, "Eris, look..." your voice hitched as your eyes landed on Azriel. His face remained as cold as it was before, but he had to admit it. Azriel was waiting to see a scrawny girl. Not a young and mature female. Sharp autumn features. And those breathtaking green eyes...

“Oh, I...”, you quickly lowered your head, “I will come by later," but before you didn’t even turn, before Eris grunted, “No, come in, YN." You blinked a couple of times, clearly confused as to why you might be needed here. “What’s going on?", the question was practically a whisper as you wiped the dirt-covered hands on the skirt that looked nothing like the kind a princess should wear. 

“There will be changes happening," Eris said, placing his hands on the table, “You’ve been misbehaving." A light chuckle slipped past your lips. “What?" you breathed, shaking your head. “I do not have the patience nor time to run after you," the high lord said, waving his hand in the air. And that was all it took to make your shoulders droop. Your big eyes staring back at your brother, but Azriel sensed the shift in your energy. He saw the twitch in Eris’s hands, but he didn’t back down. “The spymaster will be taking you with him. You’re to behave accordingly,", “I will not go anywhere with that… tree of a man," you hissed, pointing to Azriel, who almost laughed at the insult. If one could even call it that. “What is this nonsense you’re weaving?”, you stepped forward, demanding an answer. 

“Mind your tone, young lady," Eris growled, pointing a warning finger at you. The room grew quiet. You could hear the flickering of the candles. A heartbeat. One, two, three. “I will stay in my room; I won’t go anywhere, I promise," you begged. Desperation. A nice weapon. But Azriel doubted that it would work on Eris. “You said that the last time and then proceeded to sneak out with Makoa."  Eris reached for the glass bottle, pulling a glass out. He had already settled on his decision, and he was showing you just that. “That was one time," you whispered, desperately trying to catch your brother’s eye. 

“Don’t lie to me," Eris chuckled. “I’m not," and you��weren’t. Azriel felt it. He knew that Eris felt it too. “Pack what you need. You’re to leave as soon as possible. Further instructions will be given to you through the spymaster," and that was it. Dismissed. For a moment, Azriel thought that he would have to watch you cry. Beg maybe. “That’s all?”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “You want me to kiss it better?”, Eris asked. A breath hitched in your throat. Knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched your fists. You just spun on your heel. Candles dancing in your movement. A harsh slam of the door. 

Eris let out a shaky breath, but Azriel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his lips. “You are a different breed," the spymaster said, shaking his head. “It will be easier this way," Eris muttered, not taking his eyes from the door. “I beg to differ," Azriel pointed out, turning to leave as well. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, shadowsinger," the fireling bit back. Azriel turned to face him once more. “But you asked for my help," and he knew he had a winning card in his hands. “I’m not doing this because you asked. I'm doing this because she is innocent in all of this."  That was the last thing he said before he stepped out too. 

He had barely made it to the outside terrace when he saw you practically stomping toward the woods. “Mother, give me patience," he muttered under his breath before leaping into the sky. “Where are you going?", he called out. But you didn’t stop. Your steps didn’t falter as you pushed past another branch. “To your fucking court," you hissed, taking your anger out on the poor bushes as you stepped over them.

“Are you sure it’s that way?”, Azriel called out, landing just a couple of feet behind you. You halted, turning left. “Save us both the trouble and let me winnow us there," he said, reaching for your hand, but you turned so fast, pulling a shining dagger from your belt and aiming it at Azriel’s throat. “If you touch me, I will skin you," you grunted angrily. Azriel lifted his hand, pushing his fingers beneath the blade. “You would have to aim a bit higher, princess; you wouldn’t hit the vital artery." He watched the way your jaw practically grinned your teeth to the nerve. 

“Don’t worry, I can always aim for your balls," you snarled back, turning away. Azriel rubbed a hand over his face, letting you walk a few feet ahead. “So, the plan is to walk through Autumn, Winter, Dawn, and Day, and let’s not forget the under-the-mountain part," he pointed out. You stopped once more. Even with your back turned to him, Azriel could tell the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

Turn around; he practically begged in his head; don’t make me regret this even more. But just as he had concluded before, this was Mother’s way of making him pay for everything bad that he had done. Because you stepped forward, inching deeper into the forest. Azriel shook his head. For a moment, he considered letting you walk away, but he took to the skies instead.

You weren’t even sure if you were mad. Were you sad? Annoyed? Confused? It was all fine. Just last week, you were both swimming in the lake. You and your brother. Laughing. He had even pulled out his carving knife. It was fine. Lucien was going to come back, too. Angry tears rolled off your cheeks as you push back another branch, ducking under it. At least that winged bruit had chosen to leave you by. But they all do. A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at the thought of it. A burden from birth—that’s what your father told you day in and day out. Maybe if he had finished what he had started that night...

That thought snaps the same way as the branch beneath you. Your feet twist, making you yell slightly as the pain shoots up your leg. But that’s the least of your concerns, as your weight makes you topple over, hand-breaking the fall as the edge of the dome looms closer. Maybe fate has decided to give you a helping hand. But before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your middle, pulling you up. 

“So you actually can’t be left to your own devices," a deep voice mutters, and you are cursing Mother once more because she could have sent anyone else, but no, that winged male had to be the one. “No one asked for your interference," you grunt, trying to push out of his grip. “Your manners are shit for a princess," he says, and you can’t wait to put him in his place, but the moment you manage to wiggle out of his grip, putting all of your weight on your feet, shooting pain rips through you. You hiss, stumbling over. The spymaster grips your elbow, steadying you. 

“What hurts?”, his voice is solid, but there’s no anger in it. "Nothing," you say through gritted teeth, thankful for the sunset that had already draped the forest in shadows, letting you hide your splotchy face. “Nothing?”, he asks again, “So, if I were to let go?”, “I said nothing.”You pull your hand away, turning back. You can hide a limp. You’ve hidden worse. Right? But you don’t get to take a single step back. Your ankle betrays you as a pained cry slips past your gritted teeth. 

And in a heartbeat, he is there. His big palm once again splayed against your stomach as he steadied you against his chest. Your heartbeat jumps up, but you don’t even get to gasp when he turns you around, lowering you to the nearest fallen trunk. You watch him with a frown. But don’t dare to fight anymore. What’s the point anyway? 

He kneels, his hands moving towards the hem of your skirt. You expect him to just lift it, but his hands halt as he tilts his head up. You can see that he stutters slightly at the sight of your puffy eyes. “Can I?”, he asks. You grit your teeth, “Don’t you own me now? You can do what you want." He frowns. True confession there. “I don’t own you. I am here to protect you. A bodyguard if you will," he says, and even if you want to call him out for lying, something tells you that he is not. “I don’t need protection," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Considering that you just nearly went flying over the edge," the spymaster gestures over his shoulder. You huff, lifting your left leg. Wincing from the movement alone. 

He reaches for it. His hands… Your heart skips a beat at the scars all over them. You can’t see much, considering that he’s wearing long-sleeved leather, but his whole hand... “You sprained it; it’s already puffing up." His voice makes you jump slightly as you nod along. He glances at you. “I’m afraid your journey through the five courts will have to be cut short, princess." He tries not to show it, but the bastard is practically oozing satisfaction. “Don’t call me that," you say, pulling your leg out of his grasp, cursing under your breath. “Princess?”, he asks almost smugly. “I still have two hands, you fuck," you grunt, trying to stand up, but the spymaster works quicker. His arms snake over your legs and back, and you’re up in his arms in the blink of an eye. You cross your own arms over your chest, refusing to hold onto him. “A tree, a fuck. All very original insults," he says drily, “Try Azriel next time, though. We’re trying to be professional about it after all.”

[bumpolantern]

Roadside Surprise

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984, 2020) x original female character (Poppy)

Summary: It's 1985, and Max Lord finds himself driving his very pregnant wife to the hospital.

Warnings: MDNI. 18+. Very graphic and sexual birth. This is a fic for a very specific kink space. If this is not your thing, please scroll away.

Word count:  7,371 words

Author's note: This story is commissioned by someone who wishes to stay anonymous. 🙏🏻 Thank you so much for trusting me with this story 💜 I’m actually trying to raise funds to get myself a new laptop, so any donation amount is very much appreciated, if you'd also be interested in commissioning a story, my commissions are currently OPEN. Check out my commission's page here.

Divider credit @strangergraphics ❤🙏🏻

The air inside the car felt stifling as Max’s foot pressed down on the accelerator, the tension between him and Poppy thick and overwhelming. It wasn’t just the anxiety of the impending birth—it was the way the city around them seemed to grind to a halt, as if the world had chosen this exact moment to throw them into a slow, unrelenting standstill.

Poppy, in the passenger seat of the luxury sedan was not in the mood to appreciate the car’s smooth ride or plush leather seats. Her designer maternity dress clung to her swollen belly, the deep emerald fabric stretching as her body tensed under another contraction. She panted, her hands gripping the armrest and the edge of the seat, her face flushed with frustration and pain.

“Max, faster,” she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the dashboard. “We are not going to make it if you don’t get me off this damn road.”

“I’m trying, sweetheart,” Max muttered, his own panic barely contained. He swerved around a slow-moving car, but the street ahead was clogged, the lights turning red in frustrating succession. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, soaking the collar of his shirt as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“You’re trying?” Poppy’s tone was biting, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “Try harder, Max! You—oh God—these fucking contractions… it’s coming too fast!” Her hand shot to her belly, her nails digging into the fabric of her dress as another wave of pain hit her. “I’m not having this baby in your car!”

Max’s pulse quickened as he glanced at her, then back at the nearly motionless line of cars ahead. The sun was sinking low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road, the last traces of light glinting off the chrome of nearby vehicles. It was almost dusk, and the city’s usual hum was replaced by a strangely eerie quiet, broken only by the soft growl of engines and the occasional honk. But the traffic wasn’t moving.

“Just hang on, sweetheart…” he stammered, panic rising in his chest as he scanned the road for any way out. The hospital was still miles away, and her contractions were coming too close together now. “We need to get off this road.”

“Then do it!” she snapped, her breath ragged. “Goddammit, Max, I don’t need you to tell me what I already know. I need you to move!”

Max’s eyes darted to the side streets, his mind racing. An empty side road appeared just ahead, a narrow street that cut through the quieter, less populated part of the city. It wasn’t ideal, but it was their only option.

Without hesitation, he yanked the wheel, veering off the main road and onto the narrow lane. The Mercedes bumped slightly as it hit the uneven pavement, but the road was blissfully empty. Not a car in sight, just the long stretch of asphalt leading out toward the more isolated parts of town.

“Thank God,” Poppy groaned, her head falling back against the seat as she struggled to catch her breath between contractions. “Finally… some fucking space. Max—" she gasped, her voice trembling as she gripped her belly again, “I don’t think we have much time. It’s coming too fast.”

Max’s heart thudded in his chest, panic clawing at him as he glanced at her, then back at the road. “Just hold on, Poppy. We’re almost there. Just breathe—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to breathe,” she growled, her face twisted in pain. “You think I don’t know how to fucking breathe through contractions? It’s not helping, Max!”

Max winced but said nothing, his hands trembling as he gripped the wheel tighter. The sun had almost completely set now, the road ahead dimming into a dusky twilight. His mind was racing, desperate for a solution. He needed to do something—anything—to help her.

His gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, and for a fleeting moment, an old, familiar thought crossed his mind. The Dream Stone. If only he still had it, he could wish this all away—wish Poppy’s pain away, wish the baby out of her without all the agony and fear. He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling up inside him. The stone was gone, destroyed. And all he could do now was be there for her, helpless.

Poppy’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Max… oh God, I think my water’s about to break.” Her voice trembled with panic and anger as she clutched her belly, her body tensing with another violent contraction. “Fuck, there’s so much pressure… I can feel it...”

Max’s pulse spiked as he glanced over at her, fear and adrenaline surging through him. “Just hold on, Poppy. I’m pulling over.”

He slammed on the brakes, swerving the car to a stop on the empty side of the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The car jerked slightly as it came to a halt, and Max quickly shifted into park, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. He turned to Poppy, his hands shaking as he reached out to her.

“Okay, we’re off the road. What now?” he asked, his voice tight with panic.

Poppy groaned, her eyes squeezing shut as another contraction rolled through her. “What now?” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, you help me. Get your ass over here, Max.”

Max scrambled out of the driver’s seat, his heart racing as he rushed to her side. The road around them was eerily silent, the fading light casting long shadows across the deserted landscape. There wasn’t another car in sight, just the two of them, alone in the growing dusk.

Max rushed around to the passenger side, his fingers fumbling as he yanked the door open. The inside of the car felt even hotter now, the air thick with the mingling scents of sweat, tension, and Poppy’s laboring body. Her designer maternity dress, now damp with sweat, clung tightly to her skin, and her face twisted in agony as another contraction ripped through her.

She barely spared him a glance, too consumed by the intensity of her labor to acknowledge his frantic movements. “I told you… it’s coming too fast,” she growled through gritted teeth, her hands gripping the seat beneath her as her body rocked with the force of the next contraction.

Max knelt beside her, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to think of anything he could do to help. He wasn’t a doctor, wasn’t trained for this, but there was no time to second-guess himself now. The baby wasn’t waiting for anyone, least of all him.

Poppy let out a sharp, guttural groan, her breath catching in her throat. Then, suddenly, she gasped, eyes widening. “Max… I think my water—oh God, it’s going to—”

Before she could finish, a sudden gush of fluid spilled out, soaking the seat beneath her. Poppy’s breath hitched, her body trembling in momentary relief as the pressure of the contractions eased, the tightness loosening just slightly.

But the relief was brief. Poppy’s expression shifted, her eyes squeezing shut as she tensed again. “Oh fuck… Max, I feel it… the baby—it’s moving down,” she gasped, her voice tight with both fear and exertion.

Max’s pulse quickened as he positioned himself beside her. The dim light from the open car door cast long shadows across her body, but he could see her belly tightening again as another contraction rolled through her.

He glanced down between her legs, the designer fabric of her dress hiked up around her hips. The bulging pressure was visible now, her swollen lips parting slightly, the baby pushing down just behind them, causing her to stretch. The sight was intense, primal—and, to Max, it was achingly erotic. His throat tightened as he watched, the mix of fear and desire overwhelming as he saw her body respond to the pressure.

Poppy’s hand shot to her belly, her fingers trembling as she gripped herself through the dress. “Oh fuck—Max, I can feel it right there,” she groaned, her voice cracking.

Max tore his gaze away from her body, his heart thudding in his chest as he moved to help her. He leaned over, his hands trembling slightly as he positioned her carefully. “Here, let me help you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

With a firm but gentle grip, he guided her to shift, helping her turn toward the open door. Poppy groaned as she moved, her body trembling with the effort. Max lifted her leg carefully, placing one foot up on the dash while the other rested over his shoulder, opening her up wide in the cramped space of the car.

Poppy’s breath came in short gasps, her body trembling as the baby’s head pressed lower, causing her lips to bulge even more. The tension between them was palpable, her need overwhelming, and Max’s hands shook as he reached out to steady her.

Max’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her body respond to the pressure, his eyes drawn to the way her swollen lips parted, bulging with the baby pushing down behind them. He shouldn’t be thinking about it like this—shouldn’t be turned on by the sight of his wife laboring—but he couldn’t help it. The rawness of it, the way her body moved, stretched, and trembled under the strain—it was driving him wild.

His hands shook as he palmed himself through his pants, his cock already straining painfully against the fabric. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, but he fought to stay focused on Poppy, on helping her through this. Yet his hand betrayed him, pressing harder against his erection, trying to alleviate the pressure building inside him.

Poppy’s eyes flew open, her gaze locking onto him, and despite the agony coursing through her body, a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “Max,” she groaned, her voice low and throaty, a mix of pain and desire. “Are you… are you seriously getting off on this?”

Max’s heart stuttered, his face flushing as he glanced away, ashamed of how turned on he was. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his hand still pressed against his pants, unable to pull away. “I can’t help it—you’re just… fuck, Poppy, you’re so beautiful.”

Poppy’s smile widened, her breath hitching as another contraction rolled through her, but the heat in her eyes remained. “Don’t be sorry,” she purred, her voice thick with lust, even as her body trembled with the effort of pushing. “You like seeing me like this, don’t you? So spread open, so fucking raw…”

Max groaned, his hand pressing harder against his cock as he watched her, mesmerized by the sight of her body stretched wide, her swollen lips bulging as the baby moved lower. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck, Poppy… you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Poppy’s laugh was dark, almost a growl as her head fell back against the seat, her leg trembling on his shoulder. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing to you,” she gasped, her hips rocking slightly as she bore down again, her body stretching even more around the baby’s head. “Look at you… getting hard while your wife is pushing out your fucking kid.”

Max whimpered, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants as her words sent another wave of heat through him. He couldn’t help it—couldn’t stop himself from palming his erection, even as he watched her body strain and tremble under the force of her labor.

“Don’t stop,” Poppy moaned, her voice thick with lust as she reached down between her legs, her fingers brushing over her swollen clit. “Touch yourself, Max. I want to see you lose it while I push this baby out.”

Max’s breath hitched, his hand trembling as he unzipped his pants, freeing his aching cock. He groaned softly as his hand wrapped around himself, his eyes locked on Poppy’s body as she moaned and writhed, her lips bulging even more with the baby’s head pressing down behind them.

“You like this, don’t you?” Poppy whispered, her voice shaking as she rubbed her clit in slow, firm circles. “You like watching me struggle… watching me push… fuck, Max, it’s so close… I can feel it.”

Max’s heart pounded, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watched her, completely lost in the sight of her body stretched wide, trembling with the effort of bringing their child into the world. “I’m going to cum, Poppy,” he gasped, his voice ragged with need. “Fuck… I can’t hold it.”

“Good,�� Poppy moaned, her hips jerking as she rubbed herself harder. “Cum for me, Max. Cum while I push your baby out.”

Max let out a broken groan, his entire body trembling as he stroked himself faster, his eyes locked on Poppy’s swollen, bulging lips as the baby moved closer to crowning. The raw intensity of it, the primal connection between them—it was too much.

With a final, guttural moan, Max’s body shuddered as he came hard, his cock pulsing in his hand as his release tore through him. His breath came in short, sharp gasps as he watched Poppy, still trembling, still writhing as she bore down again, the baby’s head pressing lower.

Max’s breath hitched as his release overwhelmed him, his hand trembling as he stroked himself through the last waves of pleasure. His gaze remained fixed on Poppy’s bulging, swollen pussy, the baby pushing closer to crowning as her lips stretched wide. As he came, thick ropes of his cum shot from his throbbing cock, coating her already soaked pussy, slicking over the bulging lips with an obscene wetness that only heightened the intensity of the moment.

“Fuck, Max,” Poppy gasped, her voice low and throaty as she felt the hot, thick fluid splatter against her skin. Her hips jerked slightly, the sensation sending shivers through her overstretched body. “Look at you… making a mess while I’m trying to push this baby out.”

Max’s heart pounded, his eyes wide as he watched his cum drip down her pussy, mingling with her birth fluids as her body trembled with another contraction. The sight was primal, raw, and so incredibly erotic that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Poppy let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her clit as another contraction rocked through her, but her movements were shaky, her body too exhausted to keep up the rhythm. “Max,” she growled, her voice thick with both pain and desire. “Help me. I need you to rub my clit. Now.”

Max blinked, his mind snapping back to the present as he quickly leaned in, his hands still trembling from the intensity of his own release. “Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low as he shifted closer, his fingers slipping between her slick, cum-coated lips. He pressed down on her swollen clit, rubbing in firm, quick circles, just the way she liked it.

Poppy let out a guttural moan, her head falling back as she arched her back, her body trembling beneath his touch. “Yes, Max… like that… don’t stop.”

Max’s other hand slid up to her breast, squeezing her leaking nipple through the soaked fabric of her dress. The milk squirted out in response, soaking his fingers as he pressed his thumb over her nipple, massaging the engorged flesh with care.

Poppy’s breath hitched again, her body writhing as the sensations overwhelmed her. “Suck them, Max,” she gasped, her hips jerking against his hand. “Suck my tits while I push.”

Max groaned, the primal command sending another wave of heat through him. He shifted, carefully positioning himself so he could lean in between her legs. His fingers kept their relentless rhythm on her clit, but he slotted his body closer, his mouth latching onto her leaking breast. He sucked hungrily, the warm milk squirting against his tongue as he moaned into her skin.

Poppy’s entire body trembled violently, her hips jerking as she bore down again, her swollen pussy bulging even more with the pressure of the baby pushing down. The sensation of Max’s mouth on her breast, his fingers rubbing her clit, combined with the intense pressure inside her was almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, Max!” she screamed, her voice ragged as she pushed harder, her body convulsing with the effort. “I’m gonna come… oh God, I’m gonna come while I push this baby out…”

Max groaned, his mouth still latched onto her breast as he sucked greedily, his fingers moving faster against her clit. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, the way her pussy stretched and bulged, the slick wetness of his cum and her birth fluids coating his hand as she pushed.

Poppy let out a guttural moan, her hips bucking wildly as she reached the edge. “Don’t stop, Max… I’m so fucking close… keep rubbing… harder…”

Max’s heart pounded in his chest as he pressed his fingers harder against her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast as he sucked harder. His entire body ached with need, his arousal rekindling as he watched her writhe and moan, her body caught between the brutal intensity of labor and the raw pleasure of his touch.

Poppy’s entire body tensed, her back arching as she let out a scream, her orgasm crashing over her in powerful waves. Her pussy clenched hard around the baby’s head, the bulging lips trembling as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable level.

At that moment, a gush of birth fluids squirted from her, soaking Max’s hand as the baby’s head moved even lower, pressing against her overstretched lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain, pleasure, and the unstoppable force of life pushing through her.

Max groaned against her breast, his cock hardening again as he felt the rush of fluids and the way her body trembled beneath him. “Fuck, Poppy… you’re incredible,” he gasped, his voice thick with awe and desire as he pressed his fingers even harder against her clit. “You’re going to push our baby out… and cum at the same time.”

Poppy’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, her body shaking violently as she bore down once more, her orgasm still rippling through her as the baby’s head pressed even lower. “I’m doing it, Max… fuck, I’m doing it…”

Max sucked harder on her breast, his fingers relentless on her clit as he felt her body respond, pushing the baby closer and closer with each wave of pleasure. The sight of her, so raw and powerful, pushing their child into the world while her body convulsed with pleasure—it was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.

Poppy’s body trembled violently, her back arching off the seat as another brutal contraction tore through her. Max could feel her pussy tightening even more around the baby’s head, the pressure building to an almost unbearable degree. His fingers pressed harder against her clit, moving in tight, desperate circles as he sucked greedily at her leaking breast, the taste of her milk flooding his mouth.

“Max… Max, it’s coming… I can feel it,” Poppy gasped, her voice breaking as her hips bucked against his hand. Her entire body shook with the effort, her legs trembling as she pushed with everything she had.

Max groaned, the raw intensity of the moment sending shivers down his spine. “You’re almost there, Poppy,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire and awe. “Just a little more, sweetheart. You’re incredible… so fucking strong…”

Poppy let out a guttural moan, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she bore down again. “Fuck… fuck, I can feel it… oh God, Max, it’s so close…”

And then it happened.

With a sudden, violent gush, the baby’s head shot out, fluids squirting over Max’s hands, soaking both of them in a warm rush. Poppy’s belly shrank slightly as the pressure eased, but the sensation of the huge baby’s head stretching her open was undeniable. The sheer size of it made her groan, her body trembling as more fluid gushed out, pooling beneath her on the leather seat.

“Oh God, Max,” she whimpered, her voice shaking with a mix of pain and lingering arousal. “It’s so big… it’s so fucking big…”

Max’s heart pounded as he looked down, his hands trembling as he cradled the baby’s head. The sight of her swollen pussy stretched wide around the enormous head, the fluids dripping down her thighs, had his cock throbbing painfully again. “You’re doing it, Poppy,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. “The head’s out… fuck, you’re amazing.”

Poppy’s breath hitched, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her hips bucked slightly, her swollen lips stretched wide around the baby’s head, and she let out a sharp cry as the pressure inside her shifted again.

“I need… I need to push more,” she groaned, her voice low and ragged. “Oh God, Max, I can feel the shoulders… they’re huge…”

Max whimpered, his eyes glued to the sight of her body as it strained to push their child into the world. His fingers still pressed against her clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles, but the wet, slick sound of fluids squelching around the baby’s head only heightened the intensity of the moment.

“Push, Poppy,” he murmured, his voice shaking as he pressed a kiss to her leaking breast. “You’ve got this… just a little more, sweetheart.”

Poppy let out a deep, guttural groan, her body arching again as she bore down, her hips bucking against his hand. The sheer size of the baby’s shoulders stretching her was overwhelming, her lips bulging even more as she pushed harder.

“Oh fuck… Max… it’s so big… I can feel it stretching me,” she gasped, her voice trembling as she whimpered through the pressure.

Max groaned in response, his cock still exposed, throbbing heavily as he watched her body stretch wide, the fluids gushing around the baby’s shoulders as Poppy’s belly shrank more. His hand absentmindedly stroked himself, slick with the birth fluids that coated them both. “You’re so fucking incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “I can see it… you’re almost there, Poppy. Just keep pushing.”

Poppy’s hands shot up to grip the sides of the seat, her knuckles white as she bore down with everything she had. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, her face twisted in a mix of pain and pleasure as she pushed harder.

“Fuck… fuck, Max… it’s coming,” she whimpered, her voice barely more than a breathless moan. “I can feel it… oh God, it’s so big…”

Max groaned, his eyes locked on the sight of her swollen, bulging lips as the baby’s shoulders pushed through, her body trembling violently with each effort. The fluids continued to squirt and gush, soaking his hands as he cradled the baby’s head, the wet sound of her pushing filling the small space of the car.

“You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with both awe and arousal. “Just a little more… push for me, Poppy.”

Poppy let out a deep, guttural moan, her entire body shaking as she bore down again, her hips jerking violently as the baby’s massive shoulders began to slide free. “Max… oh God… I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum again…”

Max whimpered, his own body trembling with need as he pressed his fingers harder against her clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. “Cum for me, Poppy,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breathless moan. “Cum while you push out our baby.”

Poppy’s entire body tensed, her back arching as another orgasm ripped through her. Her hips bucked violently, her pussy clenching hard around the baby’s shoulders as she let out a guttural scream, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

At the same moment, the baby’s shoulders slid free with a wet, audible squelch, more fluids gushing out around them as Poppy’s belly shrank even more. The massive baby slipped into Max’s trembling hands, slick with birth fluids, its weight heavy and warm as Max cradled the tiny, wriggling body.

“Fuck, Poppy… you did it,” Max breathed, his voice thick with emotion as he stared down at the newborn in his hands. “You fucking did it… you’re incredible.”

Poppy’s chest heaved with exhaustion, her head slumping back against the seat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her body trembled, still caught between the aftershocks of her orgasm and the sheer relief of the baby finally being born.

Max, his heart pounding in his chest, leaned in closer, his hands still cradling the slick, squirming newborn. He pressed a soft kiss to her belly, now shrunken and slick with fluids. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe as he looked up at her.

Max cradled the newborn boy in his trembling hands, still slick with birth fluids, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he stared down at their child. The weight of the baby in his arms was both grounding and overwhelming, the reality of the moment crashing over him like a wave. His cock still throbbed from the intensity of everything they had just shared, but the raw awe of holding their son in his hands overtook any remaining arousal.

“Poppy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his heart pounding in his chest. “It’s a boy.”

Poppy’s eyes fluttered open, her body still trembling from the exertion of birth. She let out a soft, broken laugh, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as she looked down at the squirming newborn in Max’s hands. Tears brimmed in her eyes, her face flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and joy.

“A boy,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper as she reached out weakly. “Max… let me hold him.”

Max smiled, his heart swelling with love as he carefully leaned in, gently placing the newborn on Poppy’s chest. The baby squirmed slightly, letting out a soft cry before settling into the warmth of her skin. Poppy’s arms came up shakily to cradle him, her breath hitching as she pressed a kiss to the top of the baby’s tiny head.

“He’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “We did it, Max…”

Max’s chest tightened with emotion as he knelt beside her, his hand resting gently on her thigh, still slick with fluids. “You did it, Poppy,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re incredible.”

Poppy smiled weakly, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned her head back against the seat, cradling their son to her chest. The baby let out a soft whimper, his tiny mouth instinctively seeking her breast. Poppy shifted slightly, guiding him toward her nipple, and with a soft, eager suckle, the baby latched on, his tiny lips working rhythmically.

Max watched, mesmerized, as Poppy’s body relaxed slightly, her breaths becoming more even as their son nursed. The sight of her, still slick with the fluids of birth, cradling their newborn in the aftermath of everything they had just gone through, filled him with a profound sense of love and peace.

For a few moments, they simply stayed there, the car filled with the soft sounds of the baby suckling and the quiet rustle of their breaths. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the three of them in the warmth of the car’s small space.

But then Poppy’s breath hitched again, her body tensing beneath Max’s hand. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a low groan, her hand instinctively pressing against her belly.

Max’s heart stuttered, concern flooding his chest as he looked up at her. “Poppy? Is it… is it the afterbirth already?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

Poppy’s face tightened as another contraction rippled through her, but something about it felt different—sharper, more intense. She shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “No, Max… it doesn’t feel like that.”

Max’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening as he realized what she was saying. “What do you mean it doesn’t feel like the afterbirth?” he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

Poppy’s eyes squeezed shut, her hand gripping his wrist as another sharp pain shot through her belly. “Max… I think… I think there’s another one.”

Poppy’s breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes wide with shock as the realization settled in. “Max… there’s another one,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and disbelief. Her body tensed again, the pressure building deep inside her, even more intense than before.

Max’s heart raced, his eyes scanning her still swollen belly, which hadn’t shrunk as much as it should have after the birth of their first child. He could see her belly tightening, the unmistakable sign of another contraction rippling across her skin. “Another one…” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and concern. “A twin…”

Poppy let out a low, guttural moan, her hand pressing against her belly as the pressure mounted. “Max… it’s bigger,” she gasped, her body trembling as the new baby shifted inside her, pressing lower, the sensation almost unbearable. “Oh God… it’s so much bigger…”

Max swallowed hard, his cock still painfully hard from the intensity of everything they’d already been through. The sight of her, so raw, so powerful as she prepared to push out a second, even larger baby, had his heart racing and his body throbbing with need. He reached out, his hand gently stroking her thigh, slick with a mixture of birth fluids, his cum, and sweat.

“Poppy… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire and awe. “You can do this… you’re so strong.”

Poppy’s breath hitched as another contraction rolled through her, the pressure almost unbearable. Her hand flew up to grip the seat, her knuckles white as she fought to steady herself. “Max… touch me,” she groaned, her voice thick with both pain and lust. “I need you to… rub your cock on me… on my belly, my pussy. I need to feel you…”

Max’s breath caught in his throat, the rawness of her request sending another wave of heat through him. His cock, still hard and slick from their earlier release, ached with the need to touch her. Without hesitation, he moved closer, positioning himself between her legs as her belly continued to tighten and contract.

His hands trembled as he reached down, rubbing the head of his cock against her swollen, birth-fluid-slicked belly. The sensation of her tight skin against him, still stretched from the first baby, made him groan softly. He pressed his cock against her, slowly sliding it down across her contracting belly, over the slick mess of fluids, down to her bulging, swollen pussy, where her lips were already starting to part again.

Poppy let out a guttural moan, her hips jerking slightly as she felt the warmth of his cock slide against her. Her head fell back against the seat, her body trembling as the pleasure mingled with the intense pressure of the new baby moving lower inside her. “Yes, Max… just like that,” she gasped, her voice low and breathless. “Rub it against me… fuck, it feels so good…”

Max groaned, his hands gripping her thighs as he rubbed his cock against her slick, swollen pussy, the mixture of birth fluids and his own cum making everything even wetter, more intense. His other hand moved up, finding her clit, swollen and throbbing with need. He rubbed it in firm, tight circles, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Poppy’s body trembled beneath him.

“Oh God, Max,” Poppy whimpered, her voice shaking as the baby pressed even lower, the pressure building to a nearly unbearable degree. Her belly, still huge, contracted violently as another sharp pain shot through her. “It’s coming… the water’s going to break…”

As if on cue, another violent gush of water exploded from her, soaking both of them as the immense pressure inside her was suddenly released. The sheer amount of fluid that poured from her was overwhelming, soaking her thighs, Max’s cock, and the seat beneath her. Her belly shrank considerably, the tightness easing for just a moment, but the massive baby was still pressing down, and the pressure quickly returned.

“Oh fuck, Max,” Poppy groaned, her voice shaking as her hips jerked against his cock. “It’s so much bigger… I can feel it stretching me… oh God, I need to push.”

Max’s heart pounded, his cock throbbing as he pressed it against her slick, shrunken belly, rubbing harder against her. The sight of her belly contracting, the baby pressing lower, and the slick, wet heat of her pussy against him was driving him wild. He rubbed his cock along the length of her body, sliding it back down to her pussy as his fingers continued to work her clit.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” he gasped, his voice thick with both awe and arousal. “Push for me, Poppy… push out our second baby…”

Poppy let out a deep, guttural moan, her body trembling violently as she bore down, the pressure inside her building to an almost unbearable degree. Her free hand which wasn’t holding up the newborn against her, flew up to grip the seat, her knuckles white as she pushed with everything she had. The baby’s head pressed lower, stretching her swollen pussy even more, the bulging lips trembling as the sheer size of the baby began to overwhelm her.

“Oh God… Max… it’s so big… I can feel it,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her hips jerked against him. “Fuck, it’s stretching me so wide…”

Max groaned, his cock sliding against her slick, birth-fluid-coated skin as he rubbed harder, his fingers moving faster against her clit. “You can do it, Poppy,” he murmured, his voice low and breathless. “You’re so strong… so fucking amazing…”

As he rubbed his cock against her, the newborn boy in Poppy’s arms suckled harder at her breast, his tiny mouth working rhythmically as he nursed. The sensation of the baby nursing, combined with the intense pleasure of Max’s cock and fingers, sent shivers down Poppy’s spine.

Her body trembled violently, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she pushed harder, the baby’s massive head slowly crowning, stretching her to her absolute limit. “Oh fuck, Max… it’s coming… I can feel the head… it’s so fucking big…”

Max groaned, his cock throbbing painfully as he watched her swollen pussy stretch wide, the baby’s head pushing through, her body trembling violently as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable degree. “You’re doing it, Poppy,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire and awe. “You’re going to push out our baby… you’re incredible…”

Poppy let out a sharp cry, her body convulsing as she bore down with everything she had. Her breath hitched, her back arching off the seat as she pushed harder, the baby’s head finally slipping free with a wet squelch, more fluids gushing out around it. 

The sensation of her body stretching so wide, combined with the intensity of the moment, sent Max over the edge. His cock throbbed, and with a deep, guttural groan, he came hard, his release spilling over her slick, swollen pussy, mixing with the birth fluids as his body trembled with the force of his climax.

“Oh God, Max… the head’s out,” she whimpered, her voice shaking as the massive baby’s head stretched her wide.

Max, still trembling from his release, pressed his softening cock gently against her slick, swollen lips. His fingers continued to rub her clit, though slower now, still offering her the stimulation she craved. “You’ve got this, Poppy,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and emotion, his breath steadier now. “Just a little more… push for me, sweetheart…”

Poppy groaned, her entire body shaking as she bore down again, the baby’s massive shoulders pressing through, stretching her even wider. The wet, slick sound of fluids squelching around the baby filled the car as Poppy’s belly shrank more, the pressure inside her finally easing as the huge baby slid free into Max’s trembling hands.

Max gasped, his heart pounding as he cradled the massive newborn in his arms, slick with fluids, the sheer size of the baby almost overwhelming. “Poppy… you did it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her. “He’s out… you’re fucking amazing…”

Poppy’s chest heaved with exhaustion, her head slumping back against the seat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her body trembled, the aftershocks of the intense birth still rippling through her as she smiled weakly, her eyes fluttering open to look at Max.

“We did it,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as she reached out weakly to touch the newborn. “Max… he’s so big…”

Max smiled, his heart swelling with love as he gently handed the massive newborn up to Poppy, placing the baby on her chest. The newborn squirmed slightly, letting out a soft cry before nestling into her skin, his tiny mouth instinctively seeking her other breast. With a soft, eager suckle, the second baby latched on, nursing alongside his brother.

Poppy let out a soft, broken laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks as she cradled both of their babies to her chest. “They’re perfect, Max… they’re so perfect…”

Max leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his hand gently stroking her thigh as he smiled down at their newborns. “You’re perfect, Poppy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything.”

The air in the car was thick with the warmth of their shared exhaustion, the surreal calm that followed the raw, primal storm they had just endured. Max’s gaze traveled between his wife and their newborn sons, still latched to Poppy’s breasts, nursing quietly as if the intensity of their arrival had never happened. It was quiet now, but the weight of what they had done—what they had experienced—hung heavy between them.

Max chuckled softly under his breath, the sound low and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe we just… we just did that,” he murmured, his hand smoothing over the soft curve of her thigh, still slick with birth fluids and his own release. “In a car, no less.”

Poppy let out a tired, breathless laugh, her chest rising and falling as she glanced down at the two perfect, tiny lives she’d just brought into the world. “Yeah… not exactly the traditional way to deliver twins, is it?” she muttered, her voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Max shook his head, still unable to fully process the sheer madness of what had happened. His wife, giving birth to their twins in the cramped, intimate space of their luxury car, covered in a mix of birth fluids, cum, and the sweat of their shared pleasure—it was something out of a wild, forbidden fantasy. He never could have imagined this, not in his wildest dreams.

“I guess we don’t do things the conventional way,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips as his fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin. “But we did it. You did it. You’re amazing.”

Poppy sighed, her body finally relaxing into the seat, her muscles still trembling from the intensity of labor. She let out another soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know whether to feel proud or insane,” she muttered, her lips curving into a faint smile. “But… we made it.”

Max’s heart swelled with so much love and devotion as he gazed down at her, the disbelief and awe still flooding his chest. After everything he had been through—the power, the mistakes, the devastation of the Dream Stone—he had never imagined that life could give him this. A family. A second chance. The weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him, but as he looked at his wife, cradling their twins, a sense of peace washed over him.

“I never thought… after everything,” Max whispered, his voice catching slightly, “that life could still surprise me like this.”

Poppy smiled softly, her eyes closing as she leaned her head back, still cradling the newborns against her chest. “You deserve it, Max,” she murmured, her voice soft but certain. “We both do.”

Max swallowed hard, his hand resting on her belly, which was still soft and contracting slightly, the aftershocks of what her body had just endured. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “Maybe we do.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the air around them heavy with the strange, wonderful reality of what had just happened. The twins suckled contentedly, the car now filled with the gentle sounds of their breathing and the occasional rustle of movement.

Max had never thought his life could still hold this kind of joy, this kind of raw, unfiltered connection. Not after the chaos and destruction he had brought into the world. But as he sat there, with his wife and their newborns, he realized that this—this strange, unconventional, messy moment—was everything he had ever needed.

Poppy shifted slightly in the seat, a tired but amused smirk on her lips. “Max,” she muttered, her voice hoarse but teasing, “you might want to tuck yourself back in. I don’t think the hospital’s ready for that much of you.”

Max blinked, glancing down at himself, his still-exposed cock, and laughed softly, the absurdity of it all hitting him. “Right, yeah, that might be a bit much.” He quickly tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up with a sheepish smile. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

But as soon as the moment of levity passed, Poppy let out a low groan, her hand flying to her belly as another contraction rippled through her. “Max… oh God, it’s not over,” she whispered, her face tightening in discomfort. “The afterbirth…”

Max’s pulse quickened, but this time, he wasn’t panicking. He moved with calm efficiency, carefully helping her shift her position in the seat. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly, his hand gently supporting her back as she bore down again. Poppy’s breath came in short, labored gasps, her body expelling the afterbirth with far less intensity than before, but still enough to leave her trembling.

Max reached back to the go-bag in the backseat, pulling out clean towels. He worked quickly, wiping down her legs and carefully cleaning up the aftermath as much as he could in the small, cramped space. Birth fluids soaked the towels, and Max wrapped the afterbirth with steady hands, placing it aside before turning his attention to his wife and their newborns.

With tenderness and care, he grabbed the soft, baby-blue blankets from the go-bag, wrapping each of their newborn sons snugly. The twins squirmed a little but quickly settled into the warmth, content against Poppy’s chest as she cradled them.

Max glanced up at her, the weight of everything hitting him as he brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with concern.

Poppy smiled faintly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Never been better…” she whispered, exhaustion evident in her words, but there was a softness there too.  

He moved back into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life as he carefully pulled the car back onto the road. The world outside was quiet now, the chaos of their wild birth experience behind them, though the warmth and smell of it lingered in the small space of the car, but they didn’t care.

As they drove toward the hospital, Poppy stirred, glancing down at the two tiny bundles in her arms. “Alastair’s going to lose his mind,” she said softly, a tired but warm smile tugging at her lips. “He’s been waiting for this moment forever.”

Max smiled at the thought, his heart swelling. “He’s going to be the best big brother,” he murmured, pride flooding his chest.

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 9 - Ahn Yujin x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

You were at the worst table in the entire library. Maybe that's why it was relegated to a badly illuminated corner of the building, behind some shelves with books that almost nobody read. But this time you have to. You have to do an assignment and apparently there wasn’t any better place to get all the knowledge you needed than in these old books.

But in fact you weren’t reading any book at the time, because there was something more urgent, entertaining, and pleasant to gain knowledge. Leaning on the table was your classmate and girlfriend Yujin, with her bare ass glued to your pelvis and with your hand covering her mouth. 

You werent’ working on the assignment because you were fucking at the library. On that poorly illuminated and forgotten corner, with other students also doing homework just a few meters from you. Just protected by the safety these rickety shelves were giving to you. 

Your trust were short but strong in order to not make any noise, after all you were in a library and you had to be in silence. The peaceful aura of this palace of knowledge should not be disturbed by your study of anatomy. That’s also why your hand was preventing Yujin from moaning as loudly as she likes. 

Your shaft was deeply on her wet pussy, moving in and out of her at a pace you knew was driving her crazy. The velocity of your movements wasn't enough, you knew it that, but this was the faster you could go without making wet sounds and that clap her cheeks. The idea of bend her over the table and properly fuck the shit out of her was so tempting, but you have to make this work if you don’t wanna get caught and expelled from the university. 

“Babe, wanna ride me?” You whisper in her ear as quietly as you can, and she moves her head in an affirmative gesture. So you stop trusting and holding her by the waist you sit down on the chair with her over your legs. Yunjin immediately starts reverse riding you as best as she can with the limited range of movement she has, but you feel her walls squeezing your shaft. You feel how wet she is, and how fast her breath is going.

The hand you have on Yujin’s waist travels under her shirt to grab her boobs. The soft flesh is easily malleable under the pressure of your fingers. Despite not having bombastic big breast, Yujin's tiddie fills your hand so perfectly that it looks like both were created for each other.   

“You like the risk, don’t you?” You whisper again. “These shelves are the only thing that prevents them from finding out you are a slut, and you love it.”  You feel how Yujin’s pussy gets more wet and tight with your compliments. The truth is you twoo love the risk of public sex, but so far this is the most dangerous place where you have had sex. 

“Come Babe, come for me before they notice how sluty you are.” Your words have the desired effect over Yunjin and her movement becomes more erratic as she approaches her climax. You wish you were able to explore her body more freely, use both of your hands to squeeze her boobs or ass, or maybe touch her clit and make her cry with pleasure. But you know it is more safe if your hand keeps containing her moans. Being heard is not an option right now.

And with all your praise and when the chair threatens to break a leg Yujin stops moving at the time she closes her legs very tightly, doing her best effort to not collapse over you when the orgasm hits her body. The feeling of her walls dancing around the soft skin of your shaft is amazing, and is wonderful that sends you to your climax. Your hot cum fills Yujin’s pussy to her brim, threatening to come out of her wet hole, making her moan over your hand once again. 

“Remember me to wear a skirt next time, so I can ride you properly. “ Yujin says between sighs once your hand leaves her mouth.  

“If you do that they gonna find us.” Both of you start laughlin louder than you should do there and someone protests a few tablets far away. Still laughing, but in a low tone you help her stand again.

Yujin’s legs are shaking from all the effort they just did. Her well toned thighs are wet with her own slick and maybe some of your seed. And you allow yourself to admire the absolute work of art that is her bare butt, with her perfect pair of round cheeks that makes you hard again, before helping her to put back on her jeans. 

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heres an idea what if ford and his infant baby BOTH got sucked into the portal? How would ford cope with jumping across the multiverse while trying to raise his child?

I’m going to assume the reader is the baby, so this fic is obviously platonic from here on out.

The man gets grey stress hairs at like 23/25 (no clue how old he is when he got sucked into the portal but I’m going to assume for this)

Ford didn’t mind if it was just him that got pulled into the multiverse, he would’ve found a way to handle it but being in a multiverse full of potential dangers with you, his child? The man is doing everything he can to set you up to survive and one day escape the multiverse and go home, regardless if it’s with or without him.

Ford is putting you first and foremost as you were the future, his legacy and his protege.

It was a daunting task to not only try and survive the multiverse but also dedicate time to raising his own kid, it was taxing on both an emotional and physical level for Ford as he made sure you were kept warm and well fed as possible while leaning himself with little to nothing, but he didn’t mind because as long as you had everything you needed to grow and be strong, that’s all that matters to Ford.

You grew up traveling with bandits, learning to speak 13 languages, read ancient texts, become royalty when Ford was king of the finger dimension for a brief period of time, only for a seven fingered man to take the crown and becoming a wanted criminal in multiple dimensions before you were even twelve. Your childhood was far from a normal one as your memories of home were mainly from stories Ford told you about at night when you were both sat near the fire.

It saddened Ford to know that you viewed home a lot differently than you did the multiverse but he couldn’t blame you. You had near enough spent most of your developmental years running from dimension to dimension, aiding rebellions and surviving say to say that if you both were to ever get home, Ford knew you’d be out of your element as all you’ve ever known was the multiverse and him.

This thought occurred to Ford on many occasions that he blames himself for ever letting you get dragged into this mess because if you didn’t then maybe you could’ve grown up with Stanley and lived a perfectly normal life. You were robbed of a childhood you could look back on in fondness and Ford couldn’t help but believe himself to be the cause as he stays up to watch over you, seeing his child mentally grow up faster then you should be allowed for your age broke his aging heart.

Would you be ridiculed for being weird if you were to ever go home much like he was as a kid? If so then he’d much rather stay in the multiverse for your sake rather than his own.

You had been through a lot and seen more then a child your age should and while Ford will forever be proud of the person you had become. His only wish was that you got to at least experience a portion of your life back home before all this, just so that you didn’t look at everything so weirdly and so alien.

Ford knew that sometimes there will be moments where there’s a disconnect between you two, something he had to accept that as the truth instead of trying to logically fix it, and instead try to meet you halfway in a comforting manner when you start to think that you were too weird for home as you sat on the rooftop of the shack.

‘Won’t Mabel and dipper find me…odd?’ You asked.

‘No of course not sweetheart, they love you and see you as their cool older relative they can trust to keep them safe and happy and seen.’ Ford reassured you with a pat on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ‘You’ll be loved, so loved my little sharpshooter. I promise.’ He adds as he sees you yawn and instinctively brought you into his side, once again watching over you as you slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

While Ford hated that you had practically been raised in the multiverse but he couldn’t help but be proud of who you’ve become when you pointed out a flaw in his plans for the quantum destabiliser weapon that he had overlooked. You were going to be okay, Ford knew it.

[lazycats-stuff]

I love the Brazilian batboy fanfic, consider doing it with a Venezuelan batboy in the future please 🙌🏻

Alright, lets do it! This gif is from Giphy since there are no good gifs regarding Venezuela on Tumblr so I thought why not get something from the internet. Also, this is shorter than usual since the heat is killing me. Officially, I swear. I want winter back.

Summary: (Y/N) is Venezuelan. Enough said.

Warnings: none really

Bruce strikes once again with his mister worldwide status. Turns out that Bruce had another kid in Venezuela. At this point, everyone was already over it and had no intentions of even getting aggravated in the slightest.

Even Damian, the only biological son up until this point didn't get pissed. He said it wasn't worth the aggravation and went on with his day calmly and peacefully. Bruce was suspicious beyond belief, but eventually said that a calm Damian is a great Damian. He really didn't expect this reaction from Damian, but he choose not to question it.

Either way, with everything going on with in Venezuela, he wanted to bring his son here, to the USA, so he can attend great college once he finishes high school. Immigration might be a bitch, but hey, he has money, connections and people who have power owe him favors. And besides, anyone seeing his name will make them move faster.

Sure, it sounds entitled and out of touch type of shit, but Bruce couldn't care at this point. Immigration is the worst type of torture in modern day society. But honestly. Anyone trying to move or get a visa or a citizenship, knows it's the biggest hassle and annoyance in the world.

But either way, Bruce brought (Y/N) to Gotham and (Y/N) was working on getting his American citizenship. (Y/N) was slowly getting there. He knew English, but when it came to Spanish, he talked insanely fast. Insanely. When he got mad, he was talking faster than Flash could run.

Jason found it amusing as hell. Sometimes he would intentionally make (Y/N) mad to see how fast he could make him to talk. Everyone else stayed out of it, trying to see how they could get along with (Y/N).

Dick noticed that (Y/N) was warm towards everyone, welcoming to whoever came to him and open. That was nice compared to Americans. Dick adored those qualities in him and in people. Sure, the world is a cold place and you can't trust everyone, but sometimes you need to be open.

Tim loved how loudly (Y/N) would talk. It would keep him up when he needed to be up late. Sometimes it would scare him and he would jump like a scaredy cat sometimes, but he enjoyed the loudness of his voice and how it would keep him up when they talked.

Damian loved how he prioritized family. Despite not being blood related to everyone, he treated them like that. No difference. Whatever they needed, (Y/N) would tried to help them all. Damian respected that more than (Y/N) could ever know.

And, Jason loved how (Y/N) could party his ass off. Jason has never met a person who could party like him. Just let loose and have fun with his family or friends he has made here. It was just... Cool and Jason wished he was so cool and so relaxed.

However, Bruce didn't know that all of Gotham would go insane for his son. He didn't know that Venezuelan people were all pretty. Well, not all, but a good majority. He didn't expect the entire city to just talk about his son as if he was a piece of meat...

Sure, (Y/N) had Bruce's looks and his mother's looks and sure, (Y/N) was Latino, but this is slowly but surely getting out of hand. (Y/N) didn't mind, knowing he looked great, but Bruce was worried. As always. He always worried about his children. No matter how old they are, Bruce is always worried.

Sexualization of children is never okay. No matter the gender. And no matter the age as well.

But all in all, (Y/N) adapted to American culture quite well. Sure, there were weird moments where (Y/N) wondered what the hell were Americans thinking, but all in all, (Y/N) was doing great.

[lyneira]

♡ *doki doki* ♡

-> things that would make their heart beat a little bit faster

Seeing you smile

Itto, Diluc, Childe, Venti, Thoma

He absolutely loves seeing your face brighten up with a genuine smile. It has him subconsciously mirroring you, his face also turning aglow (even if it's in the most subtle way for someone like Diluc) And especially when you're smiling at him, that love grows tenfold and his own smile grows deeper. He can't help but be full of adoration for you upon seeing that lovely expression. More so when that beautiful smile forms into a laugh, oh his heart is soaring.

That's why he often makes it a point to make you smile whenever he sees you. Whether it's doing something kind for you, telling you a joke, or surprising you with a gift, he's going to find any possible way to make you smile. Your smile is just so precious to him as he knows how fleeting happy moments like these can be, despite how much he wishes they'd last forever.

So he will protect it with all his might, and God forbid someone ever makes that smile turn upside down.

Feeling your touch

Xiao, Tighnari, Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Gorou

Your touch soothes them, assures them, warms them. You needn't even give them a big hug. The moment they feel your skin on theirs, even if it's barely a ghost of a touch, they're folding. After all, I honestly don't these guys would be used to skinship even though it's what they'd secretly crave for the most.

He nearly holds his breath as he feels your fingertips gently caress his skin because if he were to let go, he'd be all over you. Each time you touched him, he'd desire more of that warmth. He wanted more of you. You, who would put his mind at rest and feeling your touch reassures them of that. You make him feel safe

Staring deeply into your eyes

Alhaitham, Zhongli, Kaeya, Cyno, Kaveh

There's an unspoken trust and connection when you two gaze into each other’s eyes that there is no need for words to let them know that you love them.

Your eyes say words that your lips cannot express to its full extent, and most of all, your eyes can never lie. That's why when you look into his eyes with so much love, he knows that it's true and it makes him feel warm. He's so happy that there's no denying you love him as much as he loves you.

Hearing your voice

Ayato, Heizou, Kazuha, Albedo, Baizhu

I feel like these people wouldn't like hearing a lot of noise, but on the contrary, I would think that they didn't mind listening to you.

Your voice is such a distinguishable part of you which makes it his favorite. There's no one else who has that same exact tone of voice, the same exact intonation you use, the same laugh that you have, and all of the other sounds you'd make. They love it so much because it could only belong to you. And when his name would come out of your mouth so sweetly? He'd swoon a bit each time.

Any sound from you meant it was a sound from his favorite person in all of Teyvat. So if he wasn't looking and didn't know you were coming to see him, the moment you call out his name, he'd immediately know it was you and he'd smile. His beloved was here.

a/n: this prompt is heavily inspired by one of the click and drag games I made a while ago on @deescade (hehe, shameless plug per usual). I haven't created a genshin one yet, but I currently have a twisted wonderland one and obey me one if y'all are interested!

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[asunflowerana]

a good kind of nuinsance — Suna Rintarou

summary: you have a big project coming up, and to make things even worse, you're forced to work with the most stupid, handsome moron on campus.

genre: comedy, enemies-to-lovers trope.

n/a: not me pretending i'm the best friend haha. also, good reading!

“It will be fine!” She said. “It could be worse, trust me. And it will end soon!”

You wish you could stop believing in your best friend.

College is already a nerve-wracking place to deal with it, increasing even more in junior year. You need to work on your assignments, do presentations, fight yourself everyday to not procrastinate 24/7 or call off sick ‘cause your bed is too appealing; and in the end, you always freak out with your final exams, coffee becoming your best friend and clock your worst enemy.

What you don’t understand though, is why, in such a chaotic atmosphere, you still need to do group work?

And why, of all the people on this big campus, you got paired up with Suna Rintarou?

The struggle is real.

It’s not that you hate him. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s just that spotting his face alone is enough to make you want to change sidewalks even if the traffic signal is green and Formula 1 is happening on the street.

It all started with a single bump on the cafeteria entrance. His unnecessary hard body bumped against you and your hot chocolate cup, making all of your precious drink spill and fall into your previous white All Stars sneakers, staining the fabric and burning your skin to the soul.

And that boy had the nerve to mumble a “Watch where you’re going” before giving you a cold shoulder and leaving in a hurry.

Tables turned and you had your redemption one day later, refusing to lend him your notes of an important assignment, useful for the upcoming exams. It’s not your fault that his bicycle tire got pierced on the way to class, he should have been prepared and woken up early like every poor student in this college.

This “not so pleasant but still fulfilling” war has been going on between you guys for weeks. But unfortunately, his presence became more than a nuisance to you, and you absolutely detest now the way your heart flutters when you see that punk walking on the hall with that stupid, pretty face.

Annoying, handsome, punk.

And since your “so called” best friend knows about your hidden feelings, she decided to come up with a stupid solution for it.

You, her, Suna and Bokuto Koutaro, her adorable but very much ingenuous boyfriend, were supposed to do the group project together at a cozy cafeteria a few blocks from the campus main building, known for their delicious milkshakes and pretzels.

Nowhere to escape, you accept the invite, hoping your friend could take your mind away from Suna’s intruding. That, until Bokuto shouts:

“Shoot, I forgot there was practice today!” So exaggerated, he totally has no vocation to be an actor.

And your bestie had the audacity to join the act, forcing out a grimace. “Sorry guys, but we need to go.” She announces, not sorry at all, Bokuto taking her backpack with him like the doting boyfriend he is. “Please enjoy our milkshakes, we’ll text you later to see what you guys decided!”

“Good dat— I mean…. Bye!” Bokuto takes her hand and storms away from the cafeteria.

You can only sigh, disappointed at yourself for not predicting this might happen.

“Did they really leave us?” Suna asks incredulously, noticing the filled notebooks the couple left on the table. “They even made their parts already!”

You turn your gaze to him, feeling the beginning of a migraine.“Look, I’m not thrilled to work with you either. But the faster we start, the faster we’ll get rid of each other.” You proposed with little patience, taking a sip of your friend’s untouched strawberry milkshake. “Now, take that milkshake and let’s finish this quick.”

He huffs, but your surprise doesn't fight with you on this, and you both start a two-hours circle of working in silence, bickering at each other and working in silence again, making small progress with your parts on the project. You even start to agree with each other, Suna finding your suggestions “smarter than expected”, and you finding his ideas “not so bad for a moron”.

It’s strange, the feeling of being in agreement with Hajime on something, and it's noticeable his efforts of making the process as peaceful as it can be. This friendlier side looks actually cute on him (not that you were checking him out for the past thirty minutes), so you decide to be nice too, for the sake of good grades.

It only lasts a few minutes, and soon you’re arguing again.

“The information needs to be in Z. No one will pay attention if you fill the poster with notes all over it!” He argues one more time, trying to prove his point about the best position to the notes.

“But we need to put all the information we gathered! If we do it your way, we’ll need three more posters , and that's a waste of paper!” You defend your point as well, not wanting to back down from your proposition to the project’s presentation. 

“Well, if you want to really save paper, then you should stop wanting to put everything we wrote down inside a poster, when we don’t have to!”

“We do, if we want good grades in this class. Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t really know what it's like.!”

You’re both staring at each other dangerously, breath heavy and quick, like two bulls ready to strike each other. Thank goodness you’re in a distant booth, or you guys would probably be kicked out by now for the shouting.

Suna runs his hand over his black locks, tired of this unfinished argument. “You’re too annoying , you know that?” He hisses. 

“And you’re so stubborn, argh, I can’t stand you in my head anymore!” You almost shout out your frustration, letting slip the last words by accident, but lucky for you Suna’s too angry to catch what did you mean.

“Well, I wish you could leave mine too, but you’re still there every day!”

You’re shocked. Your heart’s pace fastens and your body suddenly feels numb, completely bewildered by his confession. Suna avoids eye-contact for a few seconds, staring at the table with a terrified look, his face reddening as the seconds go by. Why did he say that to you?

“I—” He clears his throat, trying to come up with a quick excuse to cover his mistake.“ I didn't—”

“What?” But you don’t leave room for excuses. “You didn’t mean you like me?”

His eyes widens. “No! I…. I….” He sighs. “ I didn’t mean to say it like that! But if you really want to know… yes. I like you. " He moves his eyes in your direction, taking your features for a moment. "Even if you get on my nerves every single day, I can’t get you out of my head. And I know we’re not on the best terms, but I can’t just pretend anymore…” He doesn’t need to finish his line. You’re just so overwhelmed with his confession, that staying a few moments in silence makes Rintarou take that as a rejection.

“I should go.” He begins to rise from his chair, but his movements are interrupted as you quickly hold one of his wrists, preventing him from moving away. He looks at you surprised.

“Would you find it strange if I said that I can’t pretend anymore either?” You can’t say the right words aloud yet, timid of what he might do with your confession, but the growing, pretty and genuine smirk on his face tells you made a good decision by opening yourself to him.

“I guess I own you a hot chocolate, then?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.