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Chapter 40 of human Bill Cipher, in spite of his fondest hopes, still being stuck in the Mystery Shack:

As much as Gideon wants out of the evil magic game, the survival of his father's used car dealership rides on Gideon's help.

And, relatedly, Bill's started receiving psychic car commercials.

1981

Ford had been in his study for what felt like forever, staring at the pile of papers and numbers on his desk, trying to stop the figures from shifting and swimming before his eyes; when something from behind him lit up the dim room with golden light and he a heard a familiar voice behind his shoulder—

"Heeey, Stanford! You've been having a lot of dreams about tax forms lately, what gives?"

Ford was startled out of his thoughts. He turned around, smiling in relief. "Oh, Bill! Hello." Apparently he was dreaming. Thank goodness. It explained why he couldn't seem to get these forms to make sense. "How long have you been watching me?"

"About twenty years."

"What?"

"About twenty minutes," Bill said. "I wasn't going to bug you tonight, but usually your dreams are a little more adventurous! You're starting to worry me, kid." He disintegrated the tax forms with a gesture and floated down to sit on Ford's desk, like a razor-thin glowing paperweight. It was strange to see him cross his legs. "What's on your subconscious?"

Ford hadn't thought his Muse cared that much about his day-to-day human troubles. It was comforting to know someone was worrying about him—someone so far beyond human potential that maybe Ford didn't have to worry he'd be disappointed to learn Ford was struggling a little. "It's my grant money," he sighed. "I feel like my research into Gravity Falls is nowhere near completion, but that money will only last for so long. It won't be long before I'll need to ask for more funding, and I'll have a hard time convincing anyone if I don't have anything to show for it, but I don't want to share incomplete research..."

"Ah, money. The second-worst curse human society's ever inflicted on itself."

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

Ford barked a laugh. It wasn't even that funny a joke; it was just such unexpectedly human cynicism for such an otherworldly entity. It sounded like a joke Ford's dad would make.

"Well, money. What to do..." Bill drummed his fingers on Ford's desk, gazing off into the distance as he thought. Ford realized that, at some point while he was distracted, most of his study had vanished, leaving his desk and chair sitting precariously atop a faint gridded plane in the starry blue void where he usually met Bill. Finally, Bill said, "Have you considered buying gold?"

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

"Hmm." Bill thought a moment longer, then snapped his fingers. "Got an idea." He floated off of Ford's desk to eye level, strange sigils appearing in white-blue light around him. "Do you happen to know where the people who decide your funding live?"

"Er... the general area." It had to be near the Backupsmore campus, didn't it?

"Then I might be able to help you!" The symbols solidified around Bill. "I know a little spell to help persuade people. It'll let you plant ideas in their dreams—give 'em a little subliminal nudge. It could make some bigwigs come around on the importance of the research you're doing out here."

A fascinating concept. Ford studied the sigils greedily. He didn't recognize them, but they looked fairly simple. "You're not... talking about mind control?"

"Nah, that's not in my wheelhouse. It'll just let you... talk to them! Like I talk to you! I'm not controlling you, am I?" His eye curved up in a facsimile of a smile. "But you'll find most people have a harder time ignoring you when you're talking to them inside their own heads. What they do with that when they wake up is up to them. Just think of it as a way to schedule an interview where you'll have their undivided attention."

Ford pressed his lips together as he thought; then shook his head. "Thank you, Bill, but no. I wouldn't feel right earning money that way. I'd rather know they were impressed by the scientific and historical value of my work—and if I use magic, I'll never know for sure if they really thought my work measured up."

Bill laughed. "That's what I like about you, Stanford! You really shoot for the stars—and you've got the work ethic to get there! You don't want the fame and fortune unless you earn it!"

Ford was momentarily taken aback. It was rare that his muse openly complimented him; on most nights he dealt with Ford with a sort of cool, detached fondness, something a little too distant to be real affection. When he did voice his approval, it was like the sun coming out after a month of cloud cover. There were nights, when Ford was really feeling his isolation in these woods and he'd half convinced himself all his years of research had been a waste of time, when he was half willing to chase that sunshine to the ends of the earth.

"You'll do whatever it takes to finish your research, won't you?" Bill asked.

Ford gave Bill an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Of course I will. How could I not?"

"Hey, not everyone has your ambition! Most people take the easy way to the top. Cheating, copying, riding on greater men's coattails... Some guys earn the dough to buy their gold, others just want to dig for someone else's." Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, it was an idea." The sigils started to fade.

Ford raised a hand. "Hold on. I don't want to use it, but... do you think I could learn that spell anyway?" He smiled hopefully. "For research?"

"For fun?"

"For fun."

Bill laughed. "I was waiting for you to ask!" The sigils reappeared, and next to them appeared an incantation. "All right, I'll walk you through it. Pay attention, I don't think you've got enough time to go over it twice this REM cycle."

Ford nodded, focusing fully on Bill, determined to remember the spell well enough to record it in Journal 2 when he woke up.

####

Spring, 2013

Tentatively, Bud Gleeful said, "Son... now, I know you lost that spooky grimoire of yours. But... don't you have anything left that might help out the dealership?"

Gideon growled in irritation. "I told you, father! Everything I knew was in Journal 2! It's gone! Anyway, I'm just trying to be a normal kid now. I don't want to get mixed up in any more magic. I'm through with it."

"I understand," Bud said, nodding. "And I think that's mighty admirable of you, turning over a new leaf like that. Shows real maturity." He hesitated, wringing his hands together. He pre-emptively winced and said, "But it's just that... business hasn't exactly been booming, ever since your little tenure as Bill's sheriff. And you know I love the fellas you made friends with in the penitentiary, they're all such... colorful characters; but having them hang around does make folks a little wary to drive into the parking lot..."

Volume doubling, Gideon snapped, "Are you saying it's my fault?!"

"No, son, no. You know I'd never." Bud knelt down, and—cautiously, like he was trying to pet a feral cat—put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "But, well... business is slumping, that's all. We'll be fine as long as we live within our means, don't you worry about that—but our means might not cover luxuries like those fancy suits and fine new boots you like so much, you understand."

Gideon lowered his gaze, tugging self-consciously on the sleeve of his favorite suit jacket. It was already just a little too short to be fashionable; he probably didn't have long until he outgrew it completely.

"Your mother and I are doing all we can," Bud said. "If there's anything you can do... well, you don't have to, of course. But—it'd be a mighty big help."

Gideon grit his teeth, glaring at his feet. (How long until he outgrew all his shoes? He had a growth spurt coming "any day now," he'd been told. The prospect didn't excite him.) He balled his hands into fists; and then muttered, "There... might be one spell I remember... the sigils were pretty simple..."

####

June 2013

Bill could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for his mother to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—

"STOP!" His mother howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room. She didn't bend up. He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her thin body as things broke and ruptured. He didn't know what to do.

And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, and he couldn't remember.

At least, he couldn't have remembered a few weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to. But he'd been studying a book on lucid dreaming since then; and the first things it taught was how to remember more of his dreams. And now, he recalled exactly what happened next when he pushed his mother and she splintered and ruptured:

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth.

"You want me to tell everyone the third dimension's full of dead shapes?! Huh?!" All he could see was blood and bone and peeling skin. "Then why don't you go find them for me!" He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

He let go and jolted back, gasping—and almost retched. What had he done? He hadn't meant to. But he'd kept pushing—but it was too late by then. It was too late by then, wasn't it?

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

The green trapezoid looked as sick as Bill felt, eye darting in horror across the crumpled line in the corner. He couldn't even see most of it from where he was—his eye didn't work like Bill's, he couldn't look through the mess of skin to the gore beneath.

"It was an accident," Bill whispered. (He'd kept pushing.) "It really was, I promise."

His father tore his eye from the corpse to Bill's face. "What are we going to tell your followers?"

Bill looked past his father. Through a wall so thin Bill almost couldn't see it, hundreds upon hundreds of shapes were settled, waiting—to see him. He was sure: somehow, somehow, they could see him too. They knew what he'd done. His life was over.

A thunderous voice boomed, "Whooee, what a fix! Boy, you look like you could use a getaway car, couldn't you?"

Bill blinked. He blinked again. He looked up-but-not-north.

A human in a pink Hawaiian shirt, standing on top of the universe, looked down at him.

Bill said, "What."

"Here, let me just—getcha right—" The human plunged his hand through the second dimension, scooped beneath Bill, and popped him right up off the surface of the universe. "Now, if you'll pardon my saying so, you look like you could use a little help getting somewhere far, far away from here!"

Bill stared at him. "What."

"And I've got just the thing to help you!" the human declared. "Aren't you feeling stuck? Trapped? Just can't take your obligations anymore? Miserable you can't hit the road and see all of—well—" he gestured vaguely out at the flat surface of the universe stretching into the distance "—whatever this is? Then you need to visit your buddy Bud Gleeful—(that's me)—at Gleeful's Auto Sales, the finest used car dealership in Roadkill County! We'll get you a set of wheels that'll carry you on the cross-country police-evading tour of your dreams!" He dropped his voice and murmured to Bill from behind his hand, "Warranty expires at the state line."

"What." Bill looked down at the universe—and was disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't a triangle anymore, but a human. He looked at Bud again. "Are you advertising to me. Is this an advertisement. Am I getting advertised to in my sleep."

"And if you sign before you leave, we'll throw in a free air freshener," Bud added.

Bill stared at him in horrified amazement. "I am going to kill you," he said. "And then I'm going to wake up and kill you in real life."

"Ah, well. That's a right shame."

####

Bill shot straight up with a roar of rage. "Oh, when I get my hands on...!"

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

Bill whirled around with a murderous glare. Dipper's spirit, ghastly and pale, was hovering in the middle of the attic. Bill snapped, "You're a bad dream!" He scrambled after the spirit.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dipper tried to swoop away from Bill toward the stairs.

Bill caught him by the back of the neck. "You are going back in your bo—bed, you're getting in, and you're not getting back out."

"Ow, let go!" Dipper squirmed in Bill's grip, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just going to turn off the TV! I heard it playing an advertisement, I think that's what put me in... you know." He gestured at himself. "The sleepwalking dream."

Bill hesitated in front of the kids' door. "What advertisement?"

"I don't know, it was too far away to tell. But I know it was an advertisement, it sounded... advertise-y."

"Hmm." Bill considered that. And then he flung Dipper's soul through the door.

"HEY!"

"I'll turn off the TV," Bill said. "Go back to sleep!"

Ugh. Everything ached, his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out in an attempt to escape and go forage for food independently, and the world held a vindictive grudge against Bill personally. He trudged downstairs, muttering crabbily to himself.

He wasn't surprised to discover the TV was off.

####

"I'm conducting a survey," Bill said. "Did you hear any advertisements from the TV last night? Maybe have any dreams that might have been influenced by hearing an ad?"

"Uh..." Soos slowed at the bottom of the stairs as he thought. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Interesting." He waved at Melody to try to catch her attention. "Hey, how about you?"

"Nope!" Already dressed for work, she hurried from the stairs to the living room without even glancing Bill's way. She tended not to linger when he was nearby. He told himself he was flattered.

"Dude," Soos said, "What happened to your arm?"

Bill looked down. On the underside of his forearm were two thick lines set at an angle, burned so dark brown they were nearly black. "Leaned on the stove after someone used the burner. Oops."

"Do you need...?"

"Don't worry about it, it's already healing." Bill rolled down his hoodie's sleeves as he leaned into the kitchen, "How 'bout you, Stan? Hear any phantom ads last night?"

"Nuh-uh. But I sleep with my hearing aids out," Stan said. "The only things loud and grating enough to wake me are a car horn or your voice."

"Ha!" Bill looked from Stan's side of the table to Ford's—and Ford wasn't facing him, but he was glancing from the corner of his eye toward Bill's arms.

Bill turned away without asking anything. No point. Obviously, Ford had been too far underground to have picked up anything. Bill told himself Ford was seething at getting the cold shoulder.

"What're we talking about?" Mabel asked, coming downstairs with Dipper close behind.

Bill looked at her—and then let his gaze sweep past her with the same cold disinterest he'd favored Ford with. He brushed past her to head upstairs. "Hey, somnambulist." He shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes as he passed. "TV was off. No one else heard anything. You dreamed your stupid ad."

"Hey." Dipper pulled his hat back up. "Jerk."

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

Bill was curled up in the attic window seat, flipping covetously through an issue of Gold Chains For Old Men; at the sound of Mabel's irritated voice, he merely said, "Oh, hello." He turned another page. "Here to try to make a fool of me some more?"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Bill, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me about those 'Mysteries' of yours. Did you plan your story any deeper than that? Were you going to arrange for me to catch you with a cloak and dagger just to make me wonder?"

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

"So how many people were in on it, huh? Was it just you and Stanford, or did you have the whole house laughing at me behind my back?"

"It—it was just us two." She leaned on the wall by Bill's feet. "Um, so... are you actually mad?"

He shot her a venomous look, then lifted his magazine so he couldn't see her any more.

"Come on!" She poked his knee. "It was a harmless prank! And you lie to everyone all the time."

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Bill said indignantly. "I'm proud. I have pride. And lately pride's about the only thing I have going for me. And I didn't think a friend would try to undermine it."

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Okay, all right. Sorry."

Bill lowered his magazine to peer at her skeptically. "Are you really?"

"Well, yeah." She leaned against the window seat. "It was just a joke, I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He stared her down a moment longer, assessing her sincerity. And then he sat up and pulled her into a hug.

She squawked in surprise, but returned the embrace. "Bill! What—?"

"You're sweet, you know that, star girl?" He gave her one last squeeze and let her go. "When you aren't trying to make me look dumb. But you don't rub salt in the wounds, that's what matters."

"Pfff. I kinda think you'd try to kill me if I did."

"Mmyeah, I might." He wouldn't. Only person in this entire dull rotten world who was willing to apologize for wronging him. He wasn't giving her up easily. "Hey—did you happen to hear any commercials last night? Maybe have any dreams that might've been caused by one?"

"Nope! I had a dream about cats fighting a war against an octopus."

"Oh, that one. Did the octopus win or did the lions show up in time?"

Mabel paused. "It's always creepy when you do that. But the octopus won this time."

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

"I tried to get between the octopus and the town when the cats failed."

"Did you stop it?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. I woke up before it reached me."

"Too bad! But hey—you've been making big progress with your lucid dreaming. You'll get it next time!" No salesmen offering cars as war chariots for the cats, though. It was almost a pity. Bill would've liked to hear about Bud getting eaten by a giant octopus.

"So I guess Dipper was the only one who thought he heard a commercial."

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

The large, empty floor room, down the main hallway at the far end of the house, was among the few places Bill was allowed to go. Except when the humans had some big event like a dance or a museum exhibit planned, there was nothing in it but a flat old sofa, a fireplace he couldn't turn on, and Soos's electric piano taunting him. In spite of its relative isolation from the rest of the household, Bill rarely had reason to visit it.

But when he wanted space to pace and think, there was no better room.

Last night's advertisement was magic, no doubt. And he suspected he knew the exact spell. The Mystery Shack was way on the outskirts of Gravity Falls; probably nobody else here was affected because they were just out of range of the signal. The only reason Dipper had nearly picked it up was because he didn't have his thick skull in the way when his spirit was out of his body.

But Bill's psychic abilities had been heavily suppressed since he was put in this body. How was he channeling the signal so much more clearly than anyone else?

He thoughtfully ran his tongue over his new golden tooth. "Hmm."

####

Bud entered the Gleeful house flipping through a pile of mail. "Junk, junk, bills, junk... Here's your subscription, honeybunch." He held out an issue of Nervous Wrecks Weekly magazine. His wife paused her cycle of polishing the front window to stiffly take it.

"Junk, coupons... Gideon! You've got a fan letter!" He checked for a stamp indicating the tiny envelope had passed through a state correctional facility. "And it isn't even from the prison, isn't that nice!"

"Coming!" Gideon ran out of his room, snatched the letter from Bud's hand with a little grunt, ran back to his room giggling, and slammed the door.

Bud chuckled. "Joy, sweetie, you remember when that boy got so much fanmail he used to throw it out? These days he's excited for every single letter." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Suppose it's good for him, learning to appreciate the little things."

"Mhm." She looked down at the roses outside the window. She'd need to trim those soon. "I suppose it is."

In his room, Gideon studied the odd envelope. It was tiny—barely large enough for the address and the stamp, no return address—and when he turned it over he discovered lines of text printed on the paper. The flap was tucked carefully into a fold in the envelope that held it tight.

As he pulled out the flap, he realized that the envelope wasn't held together with glue; it was some sort of cleverly-folded origami craft that began to unfold in his hands as he pulled out the flap. The letter was written on the inside of the envelope. "Why—what a delightful little creation!" He sat at his dressing table to focus on unfolding the letter, careful not to damage it so he could re-fold it later.

Once he'd smoothed it out, he could see that the paper was carefully torn from a book. The outside of the envelope was made from the last page of a chapter, with only a few lines of text at the top of the page and the rest left conveniently blank. It talked about telling the difference between waking and dreaming.

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

IT'S ADORABLE THAT YOU'RE USING A DREAM COUNTERFEITING SPELL FOR CAPITALISM! I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE PROUD! HOWEVER, MY FILLINGS ARE PICKING UP AUTO DEALERSHIP ADS ALL NIGHT. IT'S REALLY ANNOYING. CUT IT OUT.

In place of a signature, there was a triangle with an eye.

Gideon's blood ran cold.

He read the letter again, then studied the words themselves. He didn't recognize the tall, thin, crooked handwriting. He flipped over the envelope. No return address. He noticed for the first time that the letter wasn't addressed to "Gideon". It said "STAR BOY". Fan mail. Right.

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

"It can't be Bill," Gideon muttered to himself. "Bill's dead. It's got to be some prankster with a twisted sense of humor..."

But then, how could some prankster know he was doing dream magic? Did anyone else even know that Bill had called him "Star Boy"?

No. It had to be a prankster. If Bill were alive, he'd be doing much worse than sending letters and complaining about fillings.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it away. His father's business needed Gideon to do whatever he could to help. Gideon's own financial future depended on it. He wasn't about to let some prankster stop him.

####

There was a rumble of several motorcycles and a revving car engine outside the Gleeful house, disturbing the late evening still. Gideon came in the front door wearing a little backpack, waving behind himself as he came in. "Thanks for the ride, Ghost-Eyes! Good talk today! I'll see y'all this weekend for brunch!" He shut the door as the engines receded into the distance.

"Welcome home, son," Bud said from the couch. "How were the ex-convicts this week?"

"Oh, great, just great. Graybeard's daughter is gonna let him meet his grandson and Spiderwebs got a new job."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. I know you were real concerned for Spiderwebs."

"I shouldn't have worried! He got work at an alpaca ranch on the other side of town, did you know there's an alpaca ranch 'round here?"

"Can't say I did!"

"I think it's a good fit for him. Being out in nature calms him down."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as they waited a polite amount of time to change the topic. In the kitchen, Joy cleaned the same dish for the third time.

Bud cleared his throat. "Well, uh—you know, it's been a couple of days since we've run a 'nighttime ad.' Do you think it's a good time to...?"

Gideon squeezed his backpack's straps. He could still see that spindly text reading "STAR BOY". "Do you think? I don't want to put 'em too close together, folks might notice..."

Bud grimaced. "It can't hurt. It's been almost two weeks since I sold a car."

Gideon scowled. But he nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go set up."

"You know how much your mother and I appreciate it," Bud said. "I'll go heat up dinner."

Gideon went to his room, tossed his backpack on his bed, rolled out the tarp on which he'd drawn the circle and sigils in permanent marker, and set up the candlesticks and candles around the perimeter. His father called him to dinner; they watched an evening talk show; and after a little more dawdling, they figured it was late enough that most folks would be asleep, and went to Gideon's room to get to work.

As Bud awkwardly lowered himself to sit in the circle and Gideon lit the candles, Gideon asked, "Father, do you ever... remember who you talk to? I mean, whose dreams you're in?"

Bud considered that, pursing his lips. "No, can't say I do. It's a bit like I'm dreaming myself," he said. "And it's sort of a jumble of a few hundred dreams, too. Like I'm visiting the whole town at once. All I can recall is a blur!"

Gideon frowned. "I see."

"You sure you don't want to be sitting in the circle this time?" Bud asked. "I'd bet if folks saw you in their dreams telling them to buy a car, why, they'd just rush right down."

These days, Gideon wasn't so sure. Sourly, he said, "I don't want to get involved." He'd gotten enough of starring in his father's car commercials when he was younger. He'd thought he'd escaped that completely when he picked up the telepathy act; he didn't relish the thought of using telepathy to star in another car commercial.

"All right, suit yourself. Just keep it in mind." Bud got as comfortable as he could on the floor and shut his eyes.

Gideon took a deep breath and began chanting: "Dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away..."

The flames flickered and turned bright blue. A purplish shimmery light surrounded Bud; and as Gideon kept chanting, the light expanded to the edge of the circle and beyond, creeping across the floor, over the bed—

A shrill wail filled the room. They both started, losing their concentration. The wail persisted several seconds before it resolved into a eardrum-bursting roar of words: "HI I'M SCOUT YOUNGER AND I'M IN A PICKLE SO YOU CAN DRIVE FOR A NICKEL! I'VE GOT SO MANY CARS I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT 'EM! SO WE'RE GIVING THEM AWAY FOR FIVE CENTS, THAT'S RIGHT FIVE CENTS! SCOUT YOUNGER, I'M A DEALER BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE—"

"Dagnabbit," Bud shouted, "that's the man undermining my no-barter-for-a-quarter deal and getting all my business! He's halfway to Portland—but darn it, his commercials are so catchy!"

"—THAT'S YOUNGER PATRIOT CARS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF INTERSTATE—" The commercial was cut off with a clap of thunder that made them both jump again.

And before the dying rumbles of the thunder had fully faded, a second voice spoke—a high-pitched, furious shriek that Gideon hadn't heard in nearly a year but instantly recognized: "SEE HOW YOU LIKE GETTING USED CAR ADS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, YOU LITTLE TWERP. THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING!"

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

Nothing but a faint, muffled, mechanical whir coming from Gideon's bed.

Slowly, Bud said, "Is that...?"

Gideon looked under his bed; then on top, tugging over his backpack and unzipping it; and he pulled out a still-running cassette tape player. A complicated sigil was painted on top of the player and stretched over the play button, glowing shimmery purple as though it had absorbed the magic from Gideon's spell.

Bud took the tape player, stopped it, rewound a bit, turned down the volume dial, and hit play: "—your throat in the middle of the night, you little—"

He stopped the tape. He and Gideon looked at each other.

Bud said, "Don't tell your mother."

####

"Third lap!" Dipper crowed as his car zoomed over the line on the digital racetrack. "You'd better catch up fast!"

"Aw, c'mon," Mabel groaned. She tilted her body along with her game controller as she steered her car around a tricky curve, as though that would help her go a little faster. "No fair, I'd be winning if you didn't throw a goose at me—"

"Pff, shut up, you always use the goose."

Bill was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the fish tank—as far as either Dipper or Mabel could tell, having a staring contest with the axolotl—but without breaking eye contact with the tank, he leaned over to elbow Dipper's knee. "Hey kid. Go left."

"What? No, shut up." Dipper tried to kick Bill's arm away.

"Go left. Trust me, it's a hidden shortcut."

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

"No." Dipper jerked his car to the right. It drove off the track and landed in quicksand. "Aw, man—"

"YES!" Mabel sailed past him. A fanfare played as she crossed the finish line. "The winner! Woo-woooo!"

Bill beamed as Dipper glared at the side of his face.

Somebody knocked on the door—and kept knocking, frantically hammering for attention. Dipper and Mabel looked over.

Bill glanced over, rolled his eyes, said, "You don't want to answer that," and looked back at the fish tank.

Dipper glared at him again, stood, and went to answer the door, Mabel close behind. "Hel— Gideon?"

"Told you," Bill muttered.

Gideon was sweating, panting, and wild-eyed with panic. "Mabel! Dipper!" He paused to give Mabel a sweet smile. "Hi Mabel~♡" And straight back to panic. "We've got a problem! I know y'all don't want me 'round here, but—but this is an emergency!"

Dipper glanced at Mabel. She sighed, but reluctantly stepped back to let Gideon in. "All right. What is it?"

"I know I sound insane, but—but you have to trust me," Gideon said. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bill Cipher's back! I'm sure it's Bill, it can't be anyone else, he... he knows things only somebody with his powers could know!" He paced anxiously in front of the twins, "He's been sending me threatening mail and harassing me and—and I don't know what he's up to, but we've got to find him and stop him! You've gotta help me!" He grabbed Dipper's arms. "I think he might be trying to kill my family!"

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

Bill glanced over with an expression of mild interest. "Hm?"

"Gideon here says that Bill's been harassing him," Dipper said. "What do you think about that."

"Oh wow," Bill said, extremely unconvincingly. "That's so crazy. I can't even believe it."

Gideon's anxious gaze darted past Dipper and Mabel. "Who's...?" He thought he remembered seeing that stranger around Wendy.

Dipper stepped between their line of sight. "Thanks, Gideon. We'll handle this... problem."

The stranger got to his feet and sauntered to the entryway. "Hey Gideon. Just out of curiosity, what were y—"

Mabel cut in, "Bye, Gideon!" She tried to push him toward the door. "We'll see you later!"

The stranger leaned over Gideon, planting a hand on the doorframe. "—what were you doing that got on Bill's nerves so much, I wonder—"

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

Had Gideon not heard the voice so recently, he might not have noticed anything odd about the stranger in front of him. But as it was, a chill instantly ran up his spine. He slowly looked up. The menacing smile was unfamiliar, but the eye... something was wrong with that eye. The longer he stared into it, the more he could see the cruel, mad, golden inhumanity.

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door.

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Seriously?"

Mabel chased after him. "Gideon! Gideon wait!" She caught up with him rounding in front of the gift shop and had to tackle him into the dirt.

"Get offa me! You're working for him, you traitor—"

"Gideon, listen! We're not working for him, he's our prisoner!"

"Oh." Gideon stopped struggling. "Well, that's a different kettle of corn, isn't it."

Mabel sighed in relief. She backed off Gideon, but had to hold his ankle to make sure he wouldn't bolt again. "Okay, look. We don't know how, but Bill's stuck in a human body, and he's got no powers."

"How do y'all know he isn't faking it?"

"Because he tried to kill us and we beat him up." She winced. "We've... kind of beat him up a lot."

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

"But you can't tell anybody," Mabel said. "If there's an angry mob or something and he gets executed, the real Bill might hatch from his body like an egg and he'll take over the town again!"

Gideon shuddered. He could almost still feel ache in his legs and the blisters on his feet under the adorable sparkly pink shoes.

"So he's fine here with us. We've got everything under control, he's not dangerous like this—" Mabel turned around to shout, "—and HE SHOULDN'T BE SENDING THREATENING LETTERS, BILL."

Bill's voice drifted from around the corner of the house: "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!"

Dipper said, "What did Gideon do to warrant that, anyway?"

Bill glowered into the distance. "He knows what he did."

"Okay, I-I won't tell anyone. I promise." Pitifully, Gideon asked, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, you can go home now." Mabel let him go. He got up and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

####

They reconvened in the living room. Dipper and Mabel stood in front of Bill, glaring. Bill sat on the sofa, smiling innocently.

"Bill," Mabel said. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Lots of people thought he should be ashamed of himself, but not many had the guts to say so.

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

"I have an excuse," Bill said. "I've been crabby this week. Body made me crabby. Some kind of human neurotransmitter imbalance. I didn't sign up to have neurotransmitters, it's completely out of my hands."

"That's not an excuse," Dipper said.

"Plus, you're an entire adult thing!" Mabel said. "You're picking on a little kid! He's like, eleven!"

"So? There's not a lot of difference between eleven and a hundred eleven when you're a million million years old."

"Then maybe you're too old to bully anybody."

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

Dipper said, "Plus, you're gonna blow your cover and get everyone in trouble!"

Bill shrugged. "He can't prove anything! Anyone could have sent a letter pretending to be me."

Mabel asked, "How did you send a letter, anyway?"

####

"Hey, Soos," Mabel yelled, "Can you send a letter for me?"

"Sure thing, hambone! Just stick it on the pile in the kitchen."

Mabel licked a stamp, haphazardly slapped it on the envelope to her parents, tossed it on the other mail, and ran back upstairs.

Bill crept into the kitchen, peeled the stamp off Mabel's envelope before it dried, stuck it on his tiny origami letter, and stuffed them both into the middle of the mail pile. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. "You'll just have to resend this one."

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

"And how did you 'harass' Gideon?" Dipper asked. "What could you possibly do from in here to harass him?"

####

Bill sat on the sofa in the floor room with Mabel's boombox radio on the floor, a cassette tape player/recorder he'd salvaged from the museum held up to the speaker with his thumb hovering over the record button, his other hand hovering over the key with the thunder sound effect on Soos's keyboard, an air horn between his knees, and a nearly-dead marker he'd fished out of Mabel's trash and revitalized with rubbing alcohol waiting next to him for drawing a magic-activated sigil. He glared at the boombox as the local radio station played an advertisement for air conditioning installation. "Come on," he muttered at the boombox. "Play the stupid car commercial."

The next ad started. "Bargain alert, bargain alert! I've got more used cars than I know what to do with! Hi, I'm Scout—"

"Yes," Bill hissed. He hit the record button, squeezed the air horn between his knees, held the tape recorder up to the boombox until the end of the commercial, kicked the boombox's power button, quickly held the tape recorder up to the piano, and triumphantly hit the key that produced the sound of a flushing toilet.

"NO!" He kicked the electric piano's leg, flung the tape recorder to the other end of the sofa, and flopped face down on the cushions. After permitting himself a moment of grief at the injustice of it all, he dragged over the tape recorder, stopped it, rewound it back to the start, hit the lightning key several times to make sure he had it, and then set up again to wait for the next time the car commercial played.

####

"Hey Wendy, could you get this door for me?"

Wendy gave Bill a puzzled look. "That's the wrong hallway. Rainbow Club's down that one." She pointed at the door across the room.

"I know, I'm just looking for the restroom! I need to dooo... girl hygiene things?"

Wendy looked at the tape player-shaped lump under Bill's shirt, looked at his face, and raised her brow.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna prank Lil Gideon."

Wendy opened the door, leaned through, and opened a second door to a coat closet. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Bill saluted her, and rummaged through the leather biker jackets in search of Gideon's little backpack.

####

"You've got no idea what kind of dark powers I still have at my disposal," Bill boasted, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Yeah, he's got nothing. He probably bribed a tourist to call Gideon's house or something."

Bill scowled, but didn't dignify Dipper with a response. "Anyway, the game's over now that Gideon knows where I am. I won't do it again."

Dipper scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Bill said calmly, "if I do it again, you'll have to tell your uncles, and I'll be in serious trouble. So I won't... and therefore, you won't. Right?"

Dipper frowned, but looked at Mabel. Mabel was considering Bill with her hands on her hips. She prompted, "Aaand...?"

It took Bill a moment to figure out what she was aiming for. "And I've realized I was mean and I'm very remorseful for my hurtful actions."

Mabel pointed at him. "That's what I wanna hear!" She looked at Dipper. "I think we can let him off with a warning."

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

Mabel said, "But you're not stopping there, Bill."

"How's that?"

"Come on, man, think!" She poked her finger against her temple. "You know the answer! We just watched this episode yesterday!"

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

"I've been using Color Critters to teach him social skills."

Bill said, "I have social skills, all you're doing is showing me what'll be on the test."

"That's how learning works, dummy! I wanna hear you regurgitate that textbook answer!"

Bill opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat and gagging; but then he said, with a blatantly artificial chipper tone, "'If we hurt our friends, we should try to find a way to make it up to them and make sure it can't happen again.'"

"That's right! 98 points! I'm taking two off for attitude."

"So how do you expect me to make it up to him? I can't exactly un-send him a letter. Unless you're gonna loan me that time tape—"

"Stop asking for the time tape," Dipper said, "it'll never happen."

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

"Figure it out yourself," Mabel said. "You're the one who's gotta make it up to Gideon, not us."

Bill rolled his eye. "Is this part of the terms to buy your silence?"

"Yeah, it is."

"All right, fine." Bill sighed and stood up. "Give me a bit to brainstorm. I'll be upstairs." He meandered out of the room.

Mabel called after him, "You better not think you're wiggling out of this!"

"Relax! I won't disappoint you, Shooting Star. Promise."

Once he was out of earshot, Dipper turned to Mabel. "How do you expect him to make it up to Gideon?"

"He should say 'sorry.'"

Dipper nodded. Okay, sure, that sounded reasonable. "How long do you think it'll take for him to think of apologizing?"

"I'd give it a couple of hours."

####

(If you recognize the dealership being parodied, we now share a warrior's bond. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, I've been looking forward to introducing Gideon for a long time! As always, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts and comments on the chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gideon gleeful #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i got impatient I'm posting this a few hours early)

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thefandomlesbian · 5 months

Text

Thinking about House's infarction and recovery and based on the scar, I think he would have had a wound vac for a significant period of time.

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, this is conjecture for the sake of fandom, any misconceptions are my own.)

So this is House's scar, per the screen grab I can get off of Google.

In my opinion, the scar seems like it wasn't well-approximated at the time of closure, which makes sense; it's consistent with the idea that his leg was opened and necrotic tissue was debrided, leaving wide margins that couldn't be secured with sutures. (This is a guess; muscular infarctions are incredibly rare and I haven't found any information online on standard procedure for clearing necrotic muscle tissue surgically.) Combine with the fact that an infarction is a clotting issue that can interfere with circulation and perfusion, I think House may have been discharged with a wound vac.

A wound vac is an electronic negative pressure device that assists with wound closure for open wounds, ie the outermost layer of skin isn't sutured/stapled and underlying tissue is exposed. These devices are usually in place for a few weeks.

(This is a stock image I swiped from Google associated with a study on the efficacy of wound vac closures.)

Basically, the tubing hooks to a machine that provides suction for any drainage and helps everything remain clean, among other things. The dressing is generally changed every 48-72 hours and is pretty painful, the adhesives involved are strong to provide total suction (the machine will flag if there is any leak and start beeping, so it must be completely airtight). I've had it described to me as, "It feels like they're peeling your skin off and digging around in your wound."

So from pain alone, this is not something House would've been able to do well by himself. He also eschews nurses, so I find it most likely Wilson provided this care for him. As a surgeon, Wilson is well-acquainted with wound closure techniques and with stages of healing, this is his area of expertise. This is something that needs to be done every 2-3 days, for 3-4 weeks, maybe longer depending on how the wound healed.

Again, based on scarring, it looks like there may have been healing complications. Which, granted, it's House. We see him perform bathtub surgery with no sterile technique or gloves (he also might have had a wound vac for that, too). House attempting to perform his own dressing changes, or worse, foregoing them altogether because it's too painful, except now the suctioned drainage is green and the periwound is hot and bright red and his leg is starting to swell. He needs help, he can't do this himself.

Wilson wants to take him to the hospital to sedate him for debridement and provide IV antibiotics, but House won't go, he's afraid of losing his leg if he's anesthetized again, he'll sooner die of sepsis. Wilson, against his better judgment, does what he must. Clears the dead tissue, cleans the wound, replaces the wound vac dressing, new tubing and canister, all while House is biting a towel like a civil war soldier because he won't be anesthetized again. Wilson fills oral antibiotics to control the infection. Going forward, he religiously changes the dressing, because if the wound becomes gangrenous he knows House will die before he consents to an amputation.

We all discuss House relying on Wilson for mobility after the infarction, which I also think is true and deserves a spotlight. But wound care is such a personal act with regards to House's profession and personality that the notion of Wilson providing for House in this way has me salivating.

#house md #spencer speaks #hilson #house x wilson #tw wounds

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a-twistedheartslonging · 10 days

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What if maybe period stuff with the nonhuam au boys? Maybe nsfw?

I guess I'll make this an in-general thing.

With the whole "animal senses" thing they will be able to sniff out some of the stuff going on with your body before you even know about it like low blood sugar, being sick, or even that your period is going to start early this month.

It would be easy to assume the guys wouldn't know a lot about it but I would like to think that NRC has at least some half-decent Sex ED, there are a bunch of different kinds of beast people after all with different junk and breeding habits. Not only that but there are actually a few animals that do menstruate, such as certain kinds of monkeys/apes, certain bats, certain mice. So though not common it isn't only a human thing.

Sure, it's pretty much an all-boys school but gender queer people are a thing and there's bound to be a few at the school so it's not like you would be alone either. (My god I bet transitioning in Twst would be so much better than here.)

I hope you're not embarrassed about it cuz all beasties are going to be able to smell it when it happens.

Grim makes a good heating pad and will lay on your lower belly and purr, maybe even make biscuits on you. It helps well with cramps.

Expect to get sniff sniffed, especially by predator beastmen, the smell and taste of blood are pretty yummy to them.

If you have a mate expect him to stay close and get nippy when the others are near.

Sex mentioned, blood, and Floyd being gross below ⬇️

Again, the smell of and taste of blood are very yummy to beasties, especially to those of the predator variety.

Leona is a fan of that time of the month, well at least the bloody part, not any of the mood swing-y stuff.

The twins in particular do actually want to eat you but don't want to hurt you so this is a wonderful opportunity for them.

Expect begging if your own the fence about letting him between your legs during this time, especially once he knows about how sex and orgasm can help with cramps.

I like to headcanon a lot of beasts already enjoy oral on account of it being the area where the scent of your sex hormones is the strongest, plus the taste. Even if you're not bleeding or in the mood for sex, he might just want to put his face there for a good sniff.

But yeah, this is a great way for him to enjoy blood and from a creature that rare in Wonderland.

Keep any bloody underwear away from Floyd cuz that fucker would actually eat them.

Jade, Floyd, Rook, and Lilia in particular love the idea of period sex and getting to see your blood all over his dick. The smell of blood together with the feeling of sex makes the animal part of his brain go frealking nuts and he has to keep himself from being too rough.

#smut #suggjestive #twst #twisted wonderland #nonhuman au #ask #asks #twst x reader

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mywritingonlyfans · 8 months

Text

Your girl. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: alex feeling a little insecure about being right for her and her assuring him.

words: 3K.

warning: it's mainly riding him, bites, choking, cockwarming, and some more... well, it's my regular soft/sexual smut.

He wasn't angry with you, but he seemed distant, lost since he returned home. The cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers, and he was far from actually smoking it, the ashes accumulating excessively before falling into the air. His arrival and immediate move to the balcony made you wonder if he might be avoiding you, although it wasn't hard to tell he was uncomfortable within himself. "Al, babe," you held the dress, struggling to unzip it completely. "Could you help me with this?" A furrowed brow and a heavy sigh. He was irritated, yet he discarded the cigarette before coming over to you. You found it endearing how he kept the smoke away from you, always managing to disappear with it whenever you approached him, as if instinctively protecting you from it.

His cold fingers brushed your skin, tracing the zipper of the dress and slowly undoing it. He pulled the fabric gently, pressing his lips to the exposed area and kissing softly, immersing his nose in your scent, eliciting a smile from you. It was a familiar routine, like something done without conscious thought, yet something both of you enjoyed immensely – it was involuntary for him. "You know, I've started buying more zip-up dresses just to get those kisses when you need to take it off," you remarked with a playful grin.

…

You nestled between the sheets, free from the dress and feeling lighter. Alex wasn't any different; he was covered from the waist down and bare-chested, his arms up in the air. You curled up against him, seeking comfort as if you were two pieces of wood generating sparks, which elicited a laugh from him. He still felt like he was in another world, but being there with you was enough. You wanted to ask, wanted to know how to ease his mind, but you didn't want to pry and potentially make things worse. He lay there, looking tired, perhaps it was just his social battery that had drained, though you didn't quite believe that. When he closed his eyes, holding you tighter, you let it be; maybe he just craved silence after the hectic day you both had. You wrapped one leg over his waist, burying your face in his neck, letting his warm scent lull you to sleep. Thin sheets were the only barriers between you in the warm night, and being able to feel the texture of his skin and his arms around you made you feel relaxed and oddly secure. It was the purest sense of feeling at home.

…

Your eyes slowly opened, as if in pain. What was warm and comforting had turned cold and irritable; Alex wasn't there. You wrapped yourself in the sheet, huddling a bit before noticing the balcony light on. With lazy steps, you made your way there. He, too, had the sheet covering his lower body, a cigarette in his hand. The scene amused you, its dramatic flair matching his, and he noticed you there, not shivering from the cold but from the lack of clothing. He seemed even more exhausted, with swollen bags under his eyes and flushed cheeks from scratching, a sign you had learned to interpret as him overthinking. He had been fine in the morning; you knew he had become like this due to something at the party.

"May I?" You gestured towards his lap, and he chuckled so sweetly that you began to wonder if it was all in your head. Maybe it was just insomnia, right? He nodded. "It's okay if you want to be alone, babe," you persisted, but he assured you it wasn't necessary. Once again, it was just layers of sheets separating you both.

Before you could even rest your cheek against his chest and have him wrap you in a tight embrace once more, he took one last drag from his cigarette, even though it was barely lit, and stubbed it out, placing it aside before planting a kiss on your head. As your hips moved in a slow, tentative yet persistent rhythm and his strong hands held you close, he chuckled, making you laugh a bit too and apologize. He claimed it wasn't necessary, and as you looked at him, your excitement faded; you knew he was still bothered by something.

"Al, babe, what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Your eyes were concerned, so far calm, and Alex felt guilty about that. The problem wasn't with you. "Not you, princess." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead against yours after kissing your nose. "It was something from the party, wasn't it?" You tried again; he needed to talk about it, to stop you from feeling like it was your fault. Still, it was something so minor that he didn't feel like burdening you with it. "It's..." He paused thoughtfully, swallowing hard before continuing, "it's kind of a trivial thing."

You gazed at him, letting him know that your full attention was on him, and lightly kissed his nose. "It's clearly making you sad, so it's not something unimportant." Your fingers intertwined with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your body nestled closer to his. He relaxed in the not-so-fancy chair, surrendering to the comfort of having you in his lap. Even with the sheet, it was obvious you were naked, and his luck seemed endless that you felt so at ease with him. It was unsettling because he was aware that you loved him, yet he still occasionally spiraled into anxiety over the thought of losing you.

You displayed patience, exactly what he needed, a few more minutes under your soothing touch until his mind felt lighter. "I think it's just me, insecurities and all," his voice sounded weak and drawn-out, his hand covering his already flushed face.

You breathed in, forming a smile. Was it wrong to find that cute? "No way, Al." You lifted his chin to meet your eyes, and then noticed the welled-up tears, silent but somehow even more distressing. "Alex, babe, you should have told me," you whispered, not quite sure where to take this conversation. You held him in a tighter embrace as he struggled to fight back tears. "I think it's just my own insecurity, it has nothing to do with you. I don't want you to think that way." He shook his head, and you let your fingers trace his chest, following the path from his chest hair to the necklace around his neck.

"That's good, Alex. You can always talk to me; I wouldn't think any less of you for it, just as I don't now." You used the edge of the sheet to wipe his face. In return, he nuzzled your collarbone, gently biting it until he heard your relaxed sigh. It was intimate and timid, but it was exactly what both of you needed. He held onto your waist, his touch delicate, and reached for the upper parts of your breasts. Your hands lightly tugged at his hair, making him look at you so you could understand him better, until your mind was flooded with how vulnerable he seemed, how easily he could be hurt, and it made you feel a little guilty.

"I'm afraid of suddenly not having you, as if you'll slip through my fingers. I hate not having enough time for you, hate 'earing the sadness in your voice over the phone when you miss me and I can't do anything about it. You were so happy tonight with me, and it ‘urts to think I'll be without you for so many months soon. I know you deserve someone better, someone who fits you more, but I don't want that someone to not be me." He let out as if he was expelling all the toxic air from his lungs, his eyes even sadder than before. The fluidity of his words told you that this had repeated so many times in his mind that there was no space left for punctuation when he voiced it out.

You were speechless, your own eyes misting over. You didn't fully grasp it, but you knew you would try and make it better. He buried his face in your chest amid the sheet still covering you, his soft hair and light body surrendered to your embrace. "You've never failed me, not once. I don't want anything else... I don't want anyone but you." You felt helpless, unable to completely fix or improve the situation. Even your words trembled as they left your lips. You kissed his head, holding onto his arms and letting him stretch out comfortably on the bench. His body was relaxed, and he was a bit vulnerable, yet he still looked at you with affection. His head might be in a daze, but he trusted you. You felt more at ease, seeing that he felt comfortable after sharing this with you, even though it had burdened him. You chuckled softly, and he mirrored your laugh, soon melting as your lips brushed against his, warm and tender so far urgent.

You leaned against his shoulders, lifting your hips and then adjusting to him. The fabric was still a barrier, and your intention was simply to tease him; he gasped into your mouth. "I wish your mind would be kinder to you, Alex." Your voice caught in your throat, and he slowly opened his eyes as if he hadn't realized he had closed them. He seemed a bit sulky, his face and hair still disheveled from sleep. You were equally lazy. Your fingers danced along his jawline, your eyes meeting at the same level, then moving to his broad shoulders, your nails lightly grazing his pale, soft skin. The thought of the future marks you would leave, combined with your rubbing against him, heightened the butterflies in his stomach. He already felt breathless.

Alex was easy to handle, though you might not have noticed that this was true only with you. He was well aware. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but a soft moan cut him off as you pressed your hips between his and moved up and down. There was a mix of characteristic morning excitement and the view he had of you. You could feel him well, his entire length, as you excited yourself while lubricating him. Mornings often felt more needy, and both of you knew how to play into that, but this time it was your turn to take advantage.

His hands went to your waist, gripping it, understanding better than to disrupt your rhythm. He agreed that it was about what you wanted to do with him. Your palm followed his, the sheet slipping down a bit, granting him a better view, though not completely revealing everything. The tips of his fingers traced you slowly, appreciating every detail. He looked at you, his face flushed, and it made you smile. You kissed his shoulder and neck while making him harder and more aroused.

He held you even tighter, your chests touching, every inch of skin connected. You entwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly and feeling yourself getting wetter as you saw his hair standing on end as you brushed your nose against him and dragged your teeth along his skin before biting him firmly and leaving with wet kisses. The low groan and his eager hips were so satisfying for you. "Trying to kill me?" he looked at you with clear desire in his eyes, his lips slightly swollen.

And you kissed them, his smile soft as he felt your touch. Your warm tongue met his until breath became scarce, and he was left with a series of your kisses and nose nuzzles. In the final one, you gently sucked his lower lip, biting it hard, and he whimpered, gripping your thigh in approval. You chuckled, a bit smug, and it indeed made him feel good, seeing you so confident. "Not really, more like showing you just how much I'm your girl." He nodded, even rosier now. At that point, you were perfectly aching, pulsing, with your head throbbing for him. Alex noticed how your knees were spread around him, focused on the movement centered at the same spot repeatedly.

"I know you are," he said, low and tender. You pressed your hand gently against his chest, pushing him back so that his head was supported. "Can you say it?" He ran his thumb over your lips, finding comfort in your sweet smile. You lifted your hips quickly, although to him it seemed in slow motion due to his neediness, and kissed him with the same intensity as before. You straddled him calmly, patiently, painfully, as his sighs were overtaken by you. He slid easily inside, and soon you felt comfortable, filled completely. "Tell me I'm your girl, Alex," you were breathless, that much was clear, and you paused, needing to adjust for a few – he was quite a thing to be taken. He chuckled, a guttural sound that vibrated through his chest, a bit too addictive considering you were so close to him. Your fingers traced his neck, almost begging for more, and he held you to stabilize you, not that you were going anywhere. He was so lost in you that it was difficult for him to form coherent sentences from the words that left your mouth.

"You're mine, babe." His raspy voice was a breath, his eyes still shining with desire. "You're my girl." He chuckled lazily, your eager hand tightening around his prominent veins, making him sound a bit breathless at the end. He was so hot and entirely yours. "I like that,"

"Do you, babe?" He gently guided his hand along your leg, his thumb reaching your clit and moving in slow circles. You moaned in relief, helping you endure him better. You let your forehead touch his, peppering his face with affectionate kisses. Gradually, you pressed tightly against him, adjusting your hips to favor your movement. His broad hands roamed around you, feeling your lower belly fill as your rhythm grew more forceful. Holding onto the sheet wrapped around you, he kept you close and firmly pressed against him. His body trembled, his eyes closed, clearly surrendering to the sensations, yet he couldn't take his eyes off you, your breasts following the rhythm, and how entangled you were with him.

He was losing control of his breathing, and you weren't faring much better. He kissed your collarbone, trailing the tip of his nose along your skin and stopping just below your breast. Repeating what you had done minutes ago, he bit into your flesh with desire, then planted heated kisses over the marked skin as your moans escaped quietly. Your nails dug into him, and by now, his hands were defined by the lines of the sheet he gripped so tightly. "Fuck, babe," he groaned, mouth slightly open, his head thrown back on the support. Tears growing in his eyes.

You leaned over him, resuming your attack on the sensitive skin of his neck, a territory you knew well. You allowed for friction against your clit with each movement of your hips, noticing him growing more restless. Your own body was involved in spasms, and you maintained the pace he wanted. You gave him what he needed, letting him have you fully, and brushed the messy hair from his face, granting you a privileged view of his features. His grip on you tightened, and as you grew more breathless, he corresponded appropriately to your stimuli. It didn't take long for your bodies to collapse against each other, your face buried in his neck, muffled moans escaping your trembling legs and weak knees. He held you even tighter, peppering your forehead with more kisses, lost in your breathless state nestled against his chest.

The sounds of your breathing mixed together, still leaving him a bit dizzy, but in a good way. He pulled the sheet over both of you, and as he unwrapped the mess, he saw that he had torn the fabric at some point. His cheeks flushed as he heard you laugh. He held you in his arms, your bodies connected, and brushed the hair from your face. Your voice was still dizzy as you said, "I must be really good at this," he chuckled softly. You were cradled in his arms, attached to his hips. He pushed the hair away from your face, and your throat was still dry. "You truly are," he affirmed, a loving gaze fixed on you.

A soul-warming silence enveloped you, comfortable and cozy. You could feel him growing solid hard within you once again. He didn't have much energy left, and you were almost falling asleep from exhaustion. This was evident in how gently you clung to each other, avoiding any sudden movements. Taking comfort in this, he stayed inside you, warm and somewhat snug. Your delicate hands encircled his waist, his arms covering you and keeping you pressed against him while the sheet did a good job of covering your bodies. You looked at him briefly, wrinkling your nose as you heard the hoarse groan escape him with your abrupt movement. Whispering, you said, "I hope this was enough to quiet your mind a bit. I don't like seeing you upset." You buried your face in his neck again, intoxicated by his scent. He observed you, realizing how foolish he was, yet there you were. "You're perfect, my dear," he said, feeling your laughter and how at peace you were wrapped around him. You were clearly a rational part of him, and he had no reason to deny that. Yes, you had quieted the noisy voices tormenting him.

"I'm your boy, all yours," he breathed into your ear, burying his nose in your hair and planting kisses on you until you fell asleep, so then the intimacy of the moment may allow him to drift into slumber while holding you.

...

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here's my ko-fi

...

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine

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jtkys · 8 months

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𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 “𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐘“ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 !! ☆

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐲𝐞𝐩, 𝐛𝐲 @lovely-btch

𝐂𝐖𝐒/𝐓𝐖𝐒: 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐂𝐒 ->

Fucked up mentally beyond belief (I mean considering the things he’s gone through, why wouldn’t he be?)

He’s incredibly unstable despite the fact he’s on medication, and really struggles with his emotions and finding a healthy outlet to express them

In my hcs, he has: C-PTSD, schizophrenia, Tourettes, MDD, bipolar and struggles with psychosis, derealisation and depersonalisation a lot.

Despises his dad even after all these years so he tries his best to not get physical when he’s mad, and he basically isolates himself from everyone and self harms/self destructs

Very frequently will have to be reminded to eat, drink and take good care of himself by Tim or another responsible adult. Especially when he’s in a depressive episode

Ok uhm more positive energy now

He has a pretty good relationship with ej, because he’s super understanding of Toby and his disorders since he was a med student and all. I also see him being good friends with Ben, and having an almost parent like relationship with Tim and Brian

When he does eat, he really likes pasta (I’m self projecting leave me alone) because Lyra used to make it for him all the time when he was younger, and it’s become a soft of comfort for him.

Can run really fucking fast. In my headcanons he’s kinda got a sleeper build, but is pretty tall. Around 5’11-6’1.

NOT A TWINK!!! NOT A CHILD!!! NOT A DEPENDENT UWU SOFT WAFFLE BOY!!!

he does have attachment issues, yes, and he is certainly clingy to the people he cares for in fear of losing them, but he is not a baby. He’s a serial killer. It’s 2023 and im still seeing people baby Toby and treat him like an child, SSSSSTTTTTOPPPPPPPP

his voice isn’t extremely deep, but it’s kinda raspy and definitely more deep than normal.

He’s generally a nice dude if you’re nice to him, but will be the most cruel and uncaring motherfucker if you make fun of his tics, disrespect the people he cares for, etc

And god forbid you call him “ticci Toby” or compare him to his dad because you will end up with your head smashed into a wall

Takes surprisingly good care of his hatchets considering how disorganised the rest of his life is

He doesn’t constantly stutter. Infact most of his tics are motor tics where he gets neck jerks, but the most they do is interrupt his speech. He’ll continue on talking like nothing happened, and he only really gets vocal tics when he’s extremely distressed or angry.

Absolutely despises tight clothing.

Spends a lot of his time outside, because it’s something he has control over. His life is fucked up in general and he lacks control in a lot of areas, so he’s desperate to find something that he can control, because it helps ground him

Really attentive and observant when he needs to be

I’ve said this before but he is genuinely so terrified of furbies. They just freak him out

Has a really dark sense of humour, and will very often make jokes about his past (only he can do that tho) or really brutal things that would make any sane person feel unsafe

gets nightmares a lot, and very often finds it hard to sleep. Sometimes his past and the things that he does keep him up at night.

Very frequently he wonders what Lyra and his mum would think of him now, and it upsets him every time because he knows they would be upset. He tries his best not to think about it most of the time.

Has considered going back to the town he grew up in a few times, wondering if he might be able to see his mum again, even just a quick glance of her

But never goes through with it

He loves animals. His favourites are birds and raccoons, but he sometimes will hide in the forest to watch deer and other animals.

Enjoys Midwest emo music, and listens to the front bottoms, McCafferty, etc

Despises the smell and taste of alcohol and smoke. It brings back too many bad memories and he’s terrified of getting addicted and ending up like his dad

>>>

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬/𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. @lovely-btch

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci Toby #toby rogers #tobias rogers #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby headcanon #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby hcs #toby rogers headcanons #creepypasta writer #creepypasta fanfic #marble hornets #marble hornets hcs #marble hornets headcanons

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taska-rokanh · 3 months

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Snowkissed - Crosshair x Reader

Found this in my drafts and thought it was pretty cute!

Don't forget that requests are open!

Warnings: Low self-esteem, mentions of former imprisonment, emotional constipation

Word Count: 1.2 k

Crosshair was not nervous. Crosshair didn’t get nervous, no matter what bantha fodder Tech spouted about his heart rate. You were meeting him—you were meeting the five of them in the cantina like you always did, it was like any other weekend, with just one small adjustment. There was nothing to be nervous about.

“You’re still looking a bit pale, Cross,” Hunter mumbled to him, probably trying to be helpful or something of the sort.

“That’s what happens when you’re trapped in a mountain for months on end,” he growled.

“Given that I’ve regained full consciousness and faculties since our rescue, I doubt you can still use that excuse plausibly,” Tech offered, completely unhelpfully.

“Yeah! What he said!” Wrecker agreed gleefully.

Crosshair only kicked them both under the table as he saw you walk in. “Hey everyone! How’re you all doing?”

“Well, thank you,” Echo replied politely, taking a sip of whatever that stuff was he always drank. The others chimed in briefly, leaving Crosshair the only one who didn’t really say much of anything. Such was normally the case.

You wedged yourself into the booth on the other side of Tech. Crosshair told himself it made sense. You were better able to keep in line with the table, and this way each side of the table had a lined up set of three. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you were next to Tech and across from Echo, the ones who were always the best at holding your attention. It seemed like the three of you could talk for hours without an awkward lull. Except for when he came around.

Kriff. He was about to get up and let you alone to your fun, when—

“You’re looking good, Tech. You too, Cross!”

He hoped he was still pale and not, well, blushing. “Thanks.”

“You’ve been recovering so nicely! Getting color back, getting muscle back. I’m so proud of you two!”

Crosshair told himself you were just trying not to leave him out. Just being nice. Because who was nicer than you? Who was kinder, sweeter, more generous with their time and attention than you? “We were just discussing that. I believe—” Tech was already locked and loaded with his latest spiel. Crosshair wouldn’t stop him. How could he?

He left the table without a word.

Tech noticed the moment your gaze left his face. It wasn’t too long after he had felt Crosshair’s absence on his left. “Is he… okay?”

Tech sighed good-naturedly. He had been watching the two of you clumsily waltz around each other for far too long. You were a good actor, excellent at playing at nonchalance when he knew all you wanted was to be as close to his ram’ser brother as possible. Crosshair, less so, but you were so concerned with your own performance it was difficult for you to notice. “It might be helpful for you to go check on him. I believe he is… struggling, tonight. He could use someone with your level of interpersonal aptitude.”

“Excuse me, then, please,” you said with a small grimace, your brow furrowed. Echo gladly made room for you before shooting Tech a knowing glance. Hunter and Wrecker were kind enough to keep up their ruse of ignorance and continue to converse.

“Cross? Is everything alright?” You found him in the alley behind the cantina. It was a safer place than most areas in the galaxy you had visited, but you felt especially safe knowing that Crosshair was right there. He had that effect on you.

You tucked your cold hands into your armpits to protect them from the cold as you approached him.

“I’m fine. You should go back inside, it’s cold.”

When you didn’t budge, he tried again. “You looked like you were in the middle of something with Tech. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Tech will be fine. What’s up?”

His hazel eyes lingered on your face for a long moment before he looked up at the sky. “Why is this so difficult?” He muttered, unsure if you could hear him.

“Talking about your feelings is always difficult,” you commented, and for a moment, he wondered if you knew how close you were treading to the subject at hand. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. What’s bothering you Cross, please? I promise that my lips are sealed to anyone else.”

He didn’t say anything. Why was it always so hard to just say something?

“I like your jacket,” you switched tactics after a few moments, plucking lightly at the elastic wristband of the leather jacket. He had always marvelled at how easily you complimented other people, and it always felt so genuine. And now you were millimeters away from actually touching him, separated by nothing but his wristband and the thin fabric of his gloves. He had half a mind to take them off, but moving to do so would surely scare you off. This closeness was enough.

“What’s it like to love someone?” He asked suddenly, and the question was so startling that your hand froze, still hovering over his.

“Wha—you mean, romantically?”

He nodded tersely.

You tittered nervously, and he noticed a blush spreading across your cheeks. He had to fight a smile at the sight. “Well, I wouldn’t be the best source of information on that subject, it’s not like I’ve been in many relationships or anything like that, but… I guess it feels like finding your other half. Someone that makes you feel ten times better just by being around, you know? Someone that you can’t stop thinking about, where, even when you’re not trying to, just looking at or hearing the right thing brings everything right back to them.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke—you normally did—your eyes focussed on the little pilings of lint on his glove.

“Like that song they played at the store yesterday,” He said. You glanced up at him briefly, his gaze still on the stars.

“What song was it?”

“I don’t remember the name,” he admitted. “All I know is that I thought I wasn’t thinking a thing, and then that song came on, and suddenly I realized everything I was doing was for you.” He finally made eye contact with you. “We have your favorite cookies at home, by the way. If I hid them from Wrecker well enough.”

Your eyes were wide and awestruck, unable to look anywhere but him.

Crosshair wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry the longer your silence went on. “Cat got your tongue?” He said as a default, hoping to shake you from your stupor so you could at least reject him outright.

You shook your head lightly, blushing more deeply with a breathy laugh. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to feel the same, and I—”

He cut you off by pressing his lips gently to yours, turning to take your hands in his. He still wished he had taken his gloves off, but this was good enough for now. He pulled back after a few seconds—best not to smother you—and looked at you anxiously for your approval. He hoped your nervous smile was a good sign.

“Is that what was bothering you?”

“For a while, yeah.”

“Will it work to kiss it better?”

“We can try.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #tcw #tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader romantic #crosshair x reader fluff #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #crosshair fluff #the bad batch platonic #the bad batch x reader platonic

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scoonsalicious · 15 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 18, Unread - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 970

Previously On...: Bucky made all kinds of sweet suggestions for your future together.

A/N: Almost there...

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc]

After Bucky had kissed you goodbye and left for his debrief, you set about getting ready for your day. You showered and brushed your teeth, pleasantly noticing that you hadn’t vomited since last night. Maybe good cock was the cure you’d needed all this time, you thought with a laugh.

You stripped and remade your bed because, though you knew you’d probably just be getting it filthy again as soon as Bucky was back, you weren’t excited about getting back into cold, damp sheets. Maybe you should invest in one of those absorbent sex blankets you’d read about online. You could buy one for your new place!

That thought led you to open up Zillow on your laptop to browse available apartments in the general area. You didn’t want to move too far away; you both still needed to be at the Tower for work, after all. You had to admit, now that you were giving it some real thought, the idea excited you. Not just because you wanted to move in with Bucky, but because you’d be creating, for the first time in your entire life, a home of your very own, without feeling beholden to anyone for it, whether out of love or a sense of obligation. The very notion was elating.

You were browsing through some gorgeous but ridiculously overpriced condos when you heard a phone buzz. You glanced at your screen, but it was black. Frowning, you glanced around and noticed Bucky’s cell sitting on one of your bedside tables. He must have forgotten it before he left for his meeting.

You walked over to it and glanced at the screen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the newly received message from Sam that caught your attention. It was the notification below it, informing Bucky that he had one new text message from ‘Vix <3.’

That’s not possible, you thought as you picked up the phone. I blocked her number, myself. There’s no way she should be able to text him. Against your better judgment, you typed in your birthday to unlock his phone. Biting your lip, a sudden surge of anxiety flooding your system, you navigated to his SMS app and opened up his thread with Jade.

Your stomach soured and your blood turned to ice as you scrolled up, reading the contents of the thread. This couldn’t be possible. He wouldn’t– but yet, there it was, staring you right in the face. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you ran to the bathroom and vomited, this time having nothing to do with your stomach bug and everything to do with your heart breaking.

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. But no. You read through the thread again and again, and again. There was no mistaking it. You slid down the bathroom wall to the floor, clutching the phone to your chest, but no tears came.

No, instead of falling apart, you felt your walls come back up, going so high that they merged together above you, encasing you in a dome of icy rage. Instead of sadness, you felt resolve. He had lied to your face and played you for a fool. Well, it had been for the last time. There was no coming back from this. Not ever. You’d give him no more chances to betray you.

You were a fucking fool to have believed his pretty lies, his hollow promises. An idiot for constantly forgiving him, when it was clear, now, that he had never really loved you. Oh, he may have thought he did. But this… what you had just seen evidence of– this was not love.

With a shaking breath, you stood up. You took screenshots of every incriminating text and sent them to yourself. You needed to move quickly so you were finished before he got back. Running to your computer, you printed out multiple copies of the screenshots then, you meticulously went through your room, collecting everything of Bucky’s that had migrated across the hall from his room to yours over the course of your relationship and crammed it all into a box.

You found one of his precious knives under the bed, and thought about throwing it out the window, but then an idea struck you. Taking the knife, the box of stuff, and a copy of the screenshots, you opened your door and walked across the hall. You unceremoniously dumped the contents of the box into a heap in front of Bucky’s door, then, using all of your strength, rammed the knife through the wooden door, pinning the screenshots in place. Let him run face-first into the evidence of his betrayal.

Running back into your room, you grabbed your go-bag, tossing some essentials in it. You couldn’t stay in this room, not right now, after everything that had happened last night and this morning. Besides, it would be too easy for him to find you here. You needed to go somewhere where he wouldn’t think to look for you. You didn’t trust yourself right now not to claw his eyes out if you saw him. Though lord knows he would fucking deserve it.

Before you left your room, you called out to FRIDAY. “Lock my door behind me, and under no circumstances are you to let Sergeant Barnes into my room,” you told the AI.

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she responded.

“Oh, and FRIDAY? One more thing,” you added, “if Sergeant Barnes asks where I am, tell him ‘fucking dead to him.”

It was sickening how cheerfully the AI responded to your depressing command, promising that she would deliver the message to him, should he inquire.

With a final look around, and a cage of ice around your heart, you closed the door to your room, to your love for Bucky, and you didn’t look back.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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whaleofatjme1920 · 1 year

Note

Random mix of characters - sal fisher, alto clef, kondraki, and Ticci Toby - using their s/o’s titties as a pillow and just falling asleep there lmaoo

Sal Fisher, Dr. Clef, Dr. Kondraki, and Toby Falling Asleep on Their SO’s Chest

[GN!Afab reader]

[Warnings: it,,, gets a little suggestive? I mean, not really imo but be warned I do talk about tits. MINORS DNI.]

[AN: I describe ALL titties here (it’s kept very general; I don’t want to leave anyone out!!) but know my love is to those in the IBTC bc I’m biased <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Sal Fisher

Whatever’s comfortable is comfortable. Cares more about falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat rather than the flesh on your chest. That said he has no preference whatsoever. I think Sal is boob guy through and through, loves them all. Literally.

I honestly think he’s a little shy telling you he wants to fall asleep in ‘such an intimate area.’ This doesn’t change if you were amab either! Sal isn’t a terribly bold guy. He’s always so respectful about asking too but doesn’t make it awkward. It’s a very natural thing between you two.

But he finds comfort snuggling up on to her chest and resting there. He’s worried he’ll like, suffocate you somehow? But it becomes to natural after a while he doesn’t even bat an eye. Mostly does this for nap purposes, sometimes for cuddle reasons. He actually prefers your head on his chest when cuddling!

He thinks you’re soft there. That’s all I really have to say on that. That and he gets to head your heartbeat, which makes the naps so enjoyable.

Dr. Clef

He’s a creepy man and makes lots of crude comments about “milkers” because he unfortunately was allowed access to tiktok but he doesn’t give a shit about the actual size. You could wear AAs and he’d still call them milkers.

Anyways yeah he’s gonna be your weighted blanket so buckle up baby. He won’t let you go. He wants a nap? Boom. Head down on your chest, he buries his face in them like he wants to suffocate and sleeps. Knocks right out. He’s also admittedly the most casual when it comes to this as well, using your breasts as a pillow whenever he feels like it.

He thinks that’s the most comfortable part of your body. Purely physically speaking—he does actually love you. Like clef is a pretty decent partner when he wants to be.

He finds it quite relaxing in the sense of de-stressing from the day. He’s kinda bad at coping mechanisms and doesn’t know how ask for help. So, when he wants to take a nap on your chest, and you’re willing, let him. He needs it. Needs you.

Dr. Kondraki

He’s one of those guys that doesn’t care about size but might lean towards medium (whatever that means, what even classifies as medium??). But regardless of size, I don’t think he’s really too crazy about falling asleep on your chest that much.

It’s not really against you, but he’s busy. Like really busy. Doesn’t want to slow down and cuddle that much at all! But on the rare occasion he’s too tired and you’re begging him to rest? Yeah, that’s the first place he’ll rest his head as long as you’re able.

He thinks your heartbeat relaxes him and he honestly enjoys the warmth. You tend to run your fingers through his hair, sometimes braiding it, and it puts him right out. He feels safe just being held by you.

Enjoy it while it lasts the man won’t do this often. It’s just not in him. Sometimes, late at night you’ll get him to crack and he’ll place his head on your chest, getting lost in the softness but most of the times no. So really, enjoy it while it lasts.

Toby

Yeah look at him and tell me he doesn’t have an affinity for boobs. I think, purely aesthetically speaking because this is sfw, he likes the shape and well, everything about them. He won’t ever call them milkers but he does call them your chest pillows.

Yes, he is always laying his head on them. Always. You often can’t get him to stop when the two of you are together. He gives you these puppy dog eyes and asks if he can cuddle and it always entails him resting his head on your chest.

He will bury his face in them and eventually pass out. You think it’s due to the lack of oxygen at first but Toby doesn’t care, your boobs are soft and he’s sleeping. Don’t wake him even if it feels like he’s stopped breathing.

The whole thing is kind of a safety thing for him. He feels safe with you like this, and well, he’s comfortable. Your body is soft and comfortable to him. Normally, he feels this weird need to be a protector and provide to prove something but when you let him lay his head down on your chest? It kinda changes. He won’t admit it, but he likes being taken care of that way.

#minors dni #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x y/n #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x reader #dr clef x reader #dr alto clef x reader #dr benjamin kondraki x reader #dr kondraki x reader

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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Danny Phantom meets The Flash’s Rogues Gallery.

Danny gets yeeted through a ghost zone portal and appears in a bank that’s actively getting robbed by Captain Cold and Mirror Master. The two are shocked that this kid just appeared out of nowhere and start barraging Danny with questions very casually while they actively break through the main bank vault and as Captain Cold is handing Mirror Master to put the stolen money into the mirror dimension. All the while Danny is just following them and chatting to them like absolutely nothing wrong is happening.

“How did you get here?” “Ghost zone.” “What the hell is a ghost zone?” “I mean it’s pretty self explanatory right? The zone where ghosts live.” “I- did The Flash send you here kid?” “Not a kid. Who’s The Flash, is he your boss?” “Wow you’re really not from here kid are you?” “You know that’s a really good question. Where is here exactly?” “You’re in Central City kid.Did you take a wrong turn to Keystone or something?” “Ok I have no clue where that is. What state are we in?” “Uhhh Kansas? Are you a teleportation meta? Who the hell are you?” “Nah I can’t teleport. Name’s Danny. Who are you guys?” “I’m Captain Cold. This guy is the Mirror Master.” “Are you guys the villains here or something?” “We’re actively robbing a bank kid. That should be obvious. You’re acting really calm for someone talking to super villains.” “Eh, I'm used to it. You guys didn’t shoot me on sight so you’re chill in my book.” “It’s my job to be the chill one kid. We don’t kill.” “You didn’t stop me or kidnap me either. Shooting doesn't always entail lethal force. Also, respect the ice pun dude.” “Heh. You’re alright kid. You aren’t trying to stop us so why should we stop you?” “Fair. Also-“

Danny then feels a strange feeling of something clockwork’s-lair-electricity-ghost-sense-but-not and freaks out and shoots ice towards the source of the feeling. The Flash goes from a blur to tumbling to the ground inside the bank with ice on his feet. Danny realizes that “oh god- this person's outfit has lightning motifs. Lightning = speed. Flash implies moving very quickly.” Oh fuck. He just iced the good guy.

In a panic, Danny turns invisible and flees to the surprise of Flash and the Rogues.

Danny figures out that he isn’t just in Kansas. He’s in Kansas and apparently Amity straight up just doesn’t exist. His parents don’t exist. His sister doesn’t exist. None of his friends or anyone he knows exists. Danny freaks out and eventually figures out that Amity Park is like the podcast town of NightVale. It exists but not in a way that’s accessible for people to simply enter. The town finds you. It finds you and you are stuck until it decides to spit you out. Danny was spat out of Amity and won’t be able to get back in unless the city accepts him back. Danny finds a job in the area and an apartment. He’s stuck here so he might as well make a life here.

Now montage to every single place that Danny ever goes to it’s almost always a “wrong place, wrong time.” where one of The Rogues makes a scene and Danny will just chat with whoever is actively robbing the place/generally causing chaos.

After a while, The Rogues all seem to realize that ‘The kid who froze The Flash’ is that kid that talked to Heat Wave in depth about this strange green fire that the kid could create. He’s also the kid that debated with the Weather Wizard on the most uncomfortable temperature. He’s the same freaking kid that chided Captain Boomerang on how he talks to women. They keep meeting the kid over and over and each time that The Flash arrives the kid just disappears. It’s now a game within The Rogues to see who sees the boy the most and how long he keeps up a conversation before he vanishes.

The Flash is freaking out because this kid managed to stop him with ice powers and is able to vanish/teleport/something. Is this kid a new recruit from The Rouges? Is this kid working with Captain Cold? Why does he keep spotting this kid at locations where The Rogues are causing chaos? The Flash is determined to track down Danny and figure out what his intentions are.

The Flash meets up with Captain Cold to talk about this kid and they both thought that the kid was working with the opposite party. Captain Cold talks about how The Rogues have grown fond of this strange meta that always seems to end up at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Flash is relieved that this kid isn’t a part of the villain union and concerned that this strange meta seems to be on his own.

Timeskip and Golden Glider offers Danny if he’d like to have a bite to eat with the Rogues Gallery and surprisingly, Danny accepts. The Flash is also invited to eat and chat with The Rogues and sees that the vanishing kid is there too. Very quickly both the Rogues and The Flash grow attached to this kid. Apparently, Danny has the same power equivalent of Superman and lived in a sentient town that was infested with ghosts. Captain Cold offers Danny a place to stay. Danny accepts. Danny, The Rogue’s Gallery, and The Flash meet up on the regular to hang out and watch films. The Rogues and The Flash become like aunts and uncles to Danny during the time Danny spends in Central City.

On a random afternoon, Danny suddenly can feel his connection to Amity Park again. He can go back to his hometown. Danny leaves to head back home and check on how Amity fared without him and receives small presents and goodbye letters from each Rogue and Speedster that he meets. Danny is excited to finally head back home, but he will miss the new family that he made during his stay. He will visit as much as he can but as much as he wishes to stay in Central City, Amity is calling.

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc #The Flash #The Rogues #Captain Cold #writing prompt #prompt #who am i kidding this is basically the outline of a fic #long post #The Flash comics are so family centered it would make the Fast and the Furious series weep #Amity Park is like Nightvale is one of my favorite concepts ever

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vajazzly · 4 months

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ok i have been thinking a lot about how sirius ended up with grimmauld place, and im going to rant about it under the cut

so, the most likely (imo) (with jkr kind of in mind) theory is that yes, sirius was disowned officially, but he still has the last name black. since all his cousins are married into other families, when regulus died the house went to sirius automatically as the "last black" despite his being disowned, since there were no others with the last name living. sirius being the og heir probably strengthened that.

the second theory, which is also quite possible, is that the inheritance was going to go to either bellatrix (eldest) or narcissa (eldest with an heir), but sirius (probably with help from dumbledore/moody/possibly bill) managed to override it sometime during GOF. if that's the case, though, it seems odd that the house was seemingly abandoned before the order/sirius moves in.

my favorite theory though is that sirius was never disinherited at all. maybe he was bumped down behind regulus, maybe not, but he wasn't taken out of the will entirely at any rate. and okay, here we're getting into like - conjecture and headcanon territory, so yknow, fair warning.

we know that sirius was a lot of things that a pureblood family would value in an heir - charismatic, confident, talented in magic, intelligent. regulus on the other hand - well, we dont know much about him in terms of his talent for magic, though it can be assumed he was reasonably intelligent since he figured out the horcrux thing, but we do know he was a lot more predisposed to following rather than leading. where sirius was confident in his own beliefs, ready to make his own path, forward-thinking, etc., regulus was happy to idealize and follow voldemort.

obviously, this is why sirius split from his family - their beliefs did not align. but despite that, siriuss personality lends itself a lot better to being the head of a great house. reguluss loyalty to voldemort could have been a good thing for the black house, sure, but if voldemort failed it would be ruinous, and throwing all of one's weight behind one leader, one plan, the way regulus seemed to be doing isn't really the mark of a great leader.

this is 100% conjecture, but id argue that the blacks were in decline, both in money and power. despite an enormous amount of pride in their house and generally giving off an old money vibe, the black vault is never referenced as particularly grand, and they only have one house, and a townhouse in a muggle area at that - grand, but nowhere near somewhere like malfoy manor or the other country mansions pureblood families of status seem to favor.

it makes a lot more sense for orion, from an objective point of view, to leave everything to sirius. regulus was unlikely to make their house into anything great, more interested in worshipping someone else, but sirius had real potential, and if the blacks fortune and power was dwindling, it makes more sense to put the future in the hands of someone more adaptable, who might be able to turn things around instead of being stuck on one path. blindly following someone else doesnt really lend itself to greatness, or potential.

here i think its also notable that siriuss parents were never death eaters. they agreed with voldemort, sure, but they never threw their weight behind him. that, i think, is the old money pride talking - they thought of blacks as being akin to royalty, and royalty does not let someone else take the reigns, tell them what to do, etc. even if voldemort had succeeded, leaving the inheritance to regulus would make their family successful only as long as they remained attached to voldemort, comfortably under his thumb. leaving everything to sirius would be a risk, but the potential payoff would leave the blacks at least with their pride intact, independent. which, yknow, maybe a bit insane, but again - old money pride.

i also think that in general sirius being a golden child who went astray when he went to hogwarts is a lot more interesting (and plausible) than him being the family scapegoat from the jump. hes the heir! and again, hes all the things a family like the blacks would look for in an heir! i dont think their family was ever particularly, like, healthy, but the narrative that sirius was abused and hated from a young age doesnt make all that much sense to me. and in ootp we see glimpses of sirius having a complicated relationship with his family, especially his mother, which hints more at a bond gone sour than outright hatred.

all this to say that sirius was a much better heir than regulus, politics aside, and i think orion and walburga may have seen that, or at least been unwilling to let their wayward perfect heir go completely, and left him on the will in some capacity.

#sirius black #this has definitely been said before but ive had like 4 shots of espresso and pounded this out so bon appetit #i just love perfect talented intelligent heir sirius #who turned out (ugh) LIBERAL so much

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blixssily · 9 months

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"your heart was glass, i dropped it."

| you promised him that you'd be careful and that you wouldn't get hurt. ironically, you end up sacrificing yourself to protect him.

| jing yuan x reader

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: reader is g/n, established relationship, reader doesn't die, might be ooc. let me know if i've missed anything!!

˓ ꒱ authors notes: this was a request from @waaav !! i'm extremely grateful to be able to write this. i hope you like it!

"pleaseeee let me come along with you! i can protect myself, you've seen it before!" you whined, pleading to your boyfriend on accompanying him to his new mission. "i know you can, but this mission is extremely dangerous. i don't want to see you get hurt." he gives you a slight frown. "jing, i will literally keep begging you until you say yes." you sighed as you lean on his desk. "pleaseeee?" you try your luck at using your puppy eyes on him, sometimes they work and sometimes they don't.

this time, they do. "fine fine fine, just please be careful. stop giving me those eyes" he chuckles a little, ruffling your hair a little.

dark clouds gathered at the scene, obstructing your view. "you think it might rain?" you ask, looking around you even though you knew you couldn't see even 5 meters ahead of you. fog was starting to pick up too, making it even harder to navigate around. "let's hope not. you can hold my hand if you get scared though." he teases as you let out a scoff.

you hope he doesn't notice but his light hearted behaviour made you feel calm, like no matter how bad things would get, everything would somehow work out.

he notices your trailing behind a little, he turns back and takes a hold of your hand. "come on, let's go." he flashes you a smile. "we should be near, keep on the look out." he says as his grip on his weapon tightens, ready for any sneak attacks. "got it, general." he rolls his eyes at this, slowly letting go of your wrist so you can draw out your own weapon.

the clouds seem to get darker..

it was cold. unbearably cold.

was it the rain rain?

it was raining.

harsh droplets of rain splashed against jing yuan’s frame, dripping onto the once warm clothes he chose in the morning.

his heart sinks even deeper with every shallow breath you take, at some point he thinks he’s hit rock bottom.

it sinks even deeper.

he’s a general, how could he have miscalculated the situation this badly? his arms around your frail body tightens. he shouldve known, he shouldve done something. he shouldve prevented this, shouldve protected you.

the raindrops feel like minuscule daggers, piercing his skin. guilt overwhelming all of his senses, unable to hear or see anything but you.

his hearing deafening on everything but your hushed breaths. vision blurring on even the ground beneath him, but not you.

not you.

he's only able to comprehend the way your crimson blood is staining his hands, his hands are shaking.

his mind is rushing, replaying the horrid memory in his mind. he prays the sickening melody of your cries could be erased from his and your memory. he can't even fathom how much pain you were in right now.

although he knew no god would listen, he prays, he begs, he pleads.

he could barely register the healers rushing to your side, soldiers surrounding the area, checking for any danger lurking nearby. he almost doesn't let the healers take you away, rushing urgently to get you to somewhere safer while trying to not lose anymore of your blood.

he prays once more, ‘please be okay.”

you’re resting in a hospital bed, plush white sheets covering the numerous wraps of bandages around your body. your lover, sat in a wooden chair beside your bed. silver hair spilled off of his shoulders, messier than ever. his eyes are dry, tear stains evident on his cheeks as he plays with his fingers, scratching and peeling at the skin due to anxiety.

the doctors had left him alone with you after checking your vitals, assuring him you’d make a slow but steady recovery. he sighs once more, thinking about how much he’ll miss your good morning kisses, nagging him that he’s going to be late if he intends on continuing to cuddle you.

he cant look you in the face, even when you’re unconscious. his mind flashing to the exact moment you shoved him out the way to protect him.

his knuckles turn white as he continues to clench his fists, vision blurring once more. the inability to see clearly almost becomes familiar now. he'd hold your hand, grazing over your delicate skin. he assures himself this simple gesture is because he wants to give you even the smallest amount of comfort if it meant you would come back to him quicker.

maybe it was to stop his own hand from shaking.

"jing yuan..?" you manage to mutter out. his head almost snaps at our fast he looks up at you, his eyes glossing over once again. his hands interlocking with yours. "you're back." he sighs, a relieved smile made its way to his lips. your eyes scanned his figure, god he looks horrible.

"how lo—"

"please don't ever leave me alone like that again." his voices cracks, cutting you off. "please, please promise me you'll never do something like that ever again." he pleads, holding your hand tightly as if he could lose you at any second. he feels your cold fingers slowly stroking his hand, trying your best to comfort the man in front of you. "how have you been?" you said, trying your luck at calming him down by thinking of something else. "horrible." he laughs, you're glad it made him smile a little. he releases your hands, leaning further on the hospital bed.

"its been really lonely without you. i've missed your constant nagging, i've missed your morning kisses, i've missed your smile." he manages, he voice starting to break as tears start welling up in his eyes. you sit up from the hospital bed, no matter how much it hurts you to, you try your best not to wince. jing yuan feels your cold hands around his neck, your neck nuzzling into his neck at the same time. "i've missed you too." you whisper, letting a tear slide down your pale cheek. his arms cautiously wrap around your frame, extremely careful not to hurt you. he rests his head completely against yours, he feels as though he can finally relax once more.

his hand catches the tears starting to fall on his face as he unwillingly pulled away. "the doctors said you have to stay here for a few weeks, or until the wound is finally healed up." you don't miss the pout that's made it's way to his lips. "i'll be fine, i promise." your hand caressed his cheek, causing the corners of his lips to turn into a smile. "thank you for protecting me back there, but please don't do that ever again. i mean it." he peers into your eyes, you think if he stares at you for long enough he could see into your soul.

"i love you, i couldn't bear seeing you leave me."

"i love you too jing. just keep a look out next time." you wink at him, reciting his previous words. keep a look out.

he scoffs, "yea yea. get some rest now." he places a kiss on your lips before sitting back down. "i'll be here when you wake up. i promise."

notes and reblogs are heavily appreciated !!

(sorry for this trash fic i suck at angst and i'm not too familiar with jing yuan ;( )

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #jing yuan

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earthstellar · 10 months

Text

talking about hearing disabled!Megatron again

listen I’ve had to wear my hearing aids for 12 hours straight today and my ears physically hurt because the plastic bendy part of the tubes is scratching up my ears pretty badly, so here we go:

(this is mostly about IDW 1 Megatron, but feel free to apply it to any Megatron because all Megatrons are excellent)

-the helmet dampens his hearing fairly significantly, as it doesn’t have any micro-openings over his audials for sound to permeate. this is intentional as part of the design, and is a safety feature for both him and any other similar mining/heavy manual labour bots who might have similar helm designs.

-that having been said, he does still have actual hearing loss from his younger days in the mine (loud machinery in sound reflective mines/caves + lack of maintenance owing to being lower class/caste and not having the resources = not great for hearing health), so while the helm design prevented it from being more severe (at first), it still didn’t provide enough protection to actually prevent a still-significant amount of hearing damage to occur

-on top of this, during the war he was constantly getting direct impacts to his helm, standing near heavy explosions, and otherwise very often in situations where his hearing damage had plenty of opportunity to gradually worsen for one reason or another (endless environmental noise + blunt force impacts to the audials even through his helmet is no bueno)

-at some point during the war he developed a low grade tinnitus in both audials, which he believes may have been caused by Starscream shooting him directly in the face with either his null ray or something else, which is a thing that happened too many times and with too many different weapons for him to be able to guess which specific occasion may have ultimately caused the tinnitus. it could also have just occurred naturally, he has no idea. but he thinks it’s probably Starscream’s fault, somehow, maybe. it’s not impossible, that’s for sure.

-the tinnitus isn’t bad enough to bother him too much most of the time, but it does irritate him when he’s in quieter moments in his hab suite and trying to settle down to write or consider strategy etc. since that’s when it’s most noticeable to him and it’s distracting whenever he actually focuses on it. it does disrupt his recharge patterns on occasion, which agitates him.

-he never really considered his gradual loss of hearing in his youth to be that negative or scary, because of course, in the mines it’s already hard to hear anyone or anything, and open internal comms were often impractical due to their mining equipment typically interfering with their comms signals. so the mining bots generally adapted fairly well to both the noise pollution in their work areas as well as their collective general hearing problems, because they already created work arounds between themselves.

-Terminus was also hearing disabled; Megatron refuses to ever have his hearing fully repaired even if he could, for three primary reasons: 1) it reminds him of where he came from and the struggle which originally inspired him to start writing, 2) it reminds him of Terminus, and 3) he’s personally so used to it that he considers his hearing disability to be a part of himself and his life experiences to such a degree that to attempt repairs would be to remove an important aspect of who he is-- he associates it closely with his sense of identity.

-they did use sign language in the mines whenever possible, but it was a form of Cybertronian Sign Language unique to low class/manual labour bots. most signs could be made with one servo, to allow them to continue operating certain machinery with their other servo while still talking to each other during work hours-- whenever they could sign to each other without their pit bosses noticing, anyway.

(BSL, British Sign Language, is usually two-handed. I’m aware that ASL, American Sign Language, has a lot of one-handed signs. Just mentioning this for a real world comparison for how this kind of stuff varies massively on a regional level, for those who aren’t aware!)

-their sign language was more of a sign supported form of Cybertronian, similar to SSE (Sign Supported English) in real life, as most of them started out with reasonably functional hearing but lost hearing ability gradually. so the grammar structure etc. is more similar to spoken Cybertronian than to most other forms of signed Cybertronian.

-he uses multiple methods to interpret spoken speech and other sounds which he either struggles to hear or can’t really hear at all. only the most observant bots will notice him doing any of this. Soundwave and Ravage are the only two non-medical bots who have ever realised that he does use lip reading in a limited capacity to help “fill in” words that he can’t make out.

-he suspects that some of the Autobot spec ops bots may have figured out some of this during the war too, but he’s not 100% sure. Jazz probably noticed on at least a few occasions, but may not have realised the extent to which Megatron relies on these “work-arounds”, or necessarily why he was using them.

-he is aware of the fact that one of the only reasons he could actually tolerate Starscream’s constant yelling at him is because it doesn’t sound as shrill to him as it does to everyone else. Starscream’s voice would just sort of clip in and out, as far as Megatron’s concerned.

-ultimately his hearing by Cybertronian measure is far below what is considered a more “standard” operational hearing range, even without his helmet, but he’s been so used to this for the vast majority of his life that he’s totally fine with it and doesn’t want to attempt any repairs. like I said above, he considers it part of his identity, and he wants to protect/preserve that.

-at some point on the Lost Light, Ratchet/First Aid/Velocity probably figure out the extent of Megatron’s hearing disability, and initially offer repairs or audial devices to assist in hearing, but Megatron declines and they don’t push him on it out of respect for his wishes

-as he gets more comfortable on the Lost Light over time, he relaxes a bit and doesn’t bother stressing himself out 100% of the time trying to strain to figure out audial input as much (unless it’s critical to do so, such as when he’s on the bridge in command capacity etc.)

-this leads to more bots figuring out that his hearing isn’t all that great, but most of them assume it’s because Megs is getting older and they likely don’t realise his hearing has been fucked for essentially forever

-this in turn leads to a lot of old mech jokes but Megs doesn’t care and Ratchet very much does because uh oh he actually is maybe a little bit losing some audial sensitivity himself due to age and his general condition declining a bit and yes Drift he will see First Aid about it in the morning, no shouting in my audials does not help it just makes you harder to understand, please don’t do this around Rodimus or he’ll start doing it and will never stop etc.

IDK I just really love the idea of hearing disabled!Megatron because it makes so much sense

even if you think about it in terms of like, G1 Megatron, I can easily see one of the reasons for him yelling in that super gravelly tone literally all the time is because he can’t 100% gauge the volume/pitch of his own voice and he’s just like, fuck it

TFP Megatron absolutely took some brutal blows to the head in the gladiatorial ring at the very least and we know he also started out doing manual labour in the mines, so there’s a very similar background to IDW 1 Megatron and a lot of this could apply to this version too

even with Cyberverse Megatron, the reason his voice is slightly lower in pitch may very well be because he can’t hear higher frequencies so he adjusts his own voice box settings accordingly

I’m just thinking out loud with all this (and of course I am biased in favour of any hearing disabled characters because I myself have some hearing issues lmao) but I think hearing disabled Megatron in particular just works extremely well

it’s a concept that could work for Ratchet too though, especially in TFP/IDW 1 where he could gradually be dealing with age related audial damage etc.

but there’s no way Megs is hearing shit through that helmet either way lmao

#idw 1 #tf headcanons #megatron #idw megatron #lost light #mtmte #maccadams #maccadam #long post #idw transformers #tfp megatron #cyberverse megatron #g1 megatron

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 3 months

Note

My son Yanqing!!!!!!! (hides the angsty ideas) Do you have any headcannons for him?

HOLY COW WTH YOU GUYS ARE FAST—I OPEN MY HSR REQ AND THERE'S ALREADY ONE REQUEST IN MY MAILBOX—

And yes hide those angsty ideas for later—I traumatize him too, even though I love him-

I do have a few headcanons of Yanqing, so allow me to scrape them together into one fat pile!

Yanqing Headcanons!

(Disclaimers: Keep in Mind, this is Strictly Platonic! Might be OOC as well!)

I'd like to imagine that Yanqing loves to hide up in trees or areas where he is able to fit himself in. Especially closets. idk why but I sometimes see him as a gremlin child /pos

After a frustrating chess match with the General, I imagine Yanqing doesn't touch a starchess board for a week or two until he goes right back at it to beat his father old man. Boi is very ambitious

I feel like after the Luofu Story Quest and (probably) Jingliu's Companion Quest, Yanqing tries to avoid the topic entirely about the High Cloud Quintet and their history, and the times that he does talk/mention them, it's usually very surface-level questions. He may be young, but he knows how to read the room—he is the lieutenant after all.

Yanqing has curfew because we all know Jing Yuan would get grey hairs if Yanqing stayed up all night to practice and run drills. Sometimes Yanqing does it just to make Jing Yuan feel old/grow grey hairs, and somehow he actually still has the energy to keep up with the day—

(On the angst note but) I feel like Yanqing might have picked up the bad habit of the General's where he just swallows up how he truly thinks and feels and keeps it secluded to himself. Yanqing is mainly expressive through his expressions due to his age, but he certainly keeps his damaged pride hidden very well—especially under important/urgent circumstances. Humility is hard to face when pride is all that you got—something which I think Yanqing kind of lives up to in a sense.

And that's all I got for the Swallow Boy! I hope you enjoyed these headcanons of mine, anon :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I need to stop encouraging angst before it becomes an issue /j

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #honkai star rail yanqing #honkai yanqing #hsr yanqing #star rail x you #hsr #star rail yanqing #yanqing #yanqing hsr #platonic hsr #platonic genshin x reader #platonic relationships #platonic #platonic honkai star rail

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mikanotes · 1 year

Text

— GAME OF TRUST

banda x gn!reader

genre: friends to enemies to ?

warnings: mentions of death, killing, blood, manipulation, alcohol usage, aib stuff, barely proofread sorry lol

synopsis: Being at the Borderlands wasn’t enough, you just had to meet the person you’d told you would kill if you saw him again. Seems like the way you saw things changed during that time.

author’s note: yeah. so i’ve been writing this for days and i’m still not satisfied w it much but i wanted to post it so there you go. i might edit it but! yea!!

Three years prior to the Borderlands.

“Seriously.” you scoffed, bandaging the arm of the boy sitting in front of you. “How many times do you plan to do this, exactly?”

‘This’, referred to Banda, your close friend and unofficial roommate, coming to your apartment unannounced with injuries and blood all over him. Every time, he’d greet you with a sheepish, barely-apologetic smile and get you to let him in with an innocent tilt of his head. You’d have him sit at the counter of your bathroom so you could clean up his wounds.

It’s not that you blindly trusted him. You just couldn’t care less what he did to get injured. What bothered you, however, was—

“I don’t know. Depends on whether or not you’ll continue to take care of me when it happens.” he said, taking advantage of the short distance between the two of you to try and catch your gaze.

— Him. In general. He was a problem in itself. You were used to him, sure, but that didn’t make him flirting with you every other day any more bearable. Especially since you liked him. It was obvious to everyone including the two of you that you had always been friends who were maybe-more-than-that. But nothing ever happened, really. That was just the dynamic of your relationship.

“I’m not your personal nurse.”

“Aw.”

You indulged him and met his eyes, albeit yours were filled with a mix of annoyance and tiredness— A cocktail he seemed to like considering the smile that pulled at his lips.

“You’re so annoying. God.” you whispered, not noticing where your eyes fixated.

“And you’re staring at my lips.” he replied, teasing, “What? Want a taste?” he asked and suddenly got so close to your face you almost stumbled back. Except you didn’t. You looked at him with wide eyes and his smile widened.

Then you calmed down, scoffed, and pushed him back.

“Stop looking at me like that.” you spoke, tone low but not entirely threatening. You clicked your tongue when he only raised his eyebrows, like he didn’t get what you meant. “And stop acting innocent.”

“What about me makes you think I’m not?”

You grabbed a cotton ball of disinfectant and roughly pressed it into a cut on his cheekbone. All that did was make him wince a little and close his eye. You sighed and tossed the cotton ball away. “I don’t know. Everything?”

“Come on.” he exhaled as you grabbed a band-aid at the side. The TV in your living room was quiet, but loud enough to be heard in the beat of silence that passed.

“ — A man from Tokyo College was found dead in a residential area near the university. He died from blunt force trauma after seemingly getting into a fight. Reports say he was at a bar with friends before this. The police suspect a drunken fight with a classmate that turned sour.”

Your movements slowed to a stop.

Banda was getting drinks with some upperclassmen he didn’t like tonight. You knew it because you’d asked him why he even bothered going a few days prior. You knew it because he’d told you he wouldn’t be able to make it to your study session because of it. You’re not sure why all your senses pointed an accusatory finger towards the person you considered your best friend at this moment but you couldn’t help it.

“Sunato.”

“What is it?” he asked.

You didn’t feel your gaze move up to meet his. When you did, he was already smiling at you. You wondered if he had made it a point to intentionally stop speaking at that moment.

“Hm?” he tilted his head.

“Sunato.” you repeated, the name sounding a sour shade of uncertainty on your tongue. “What happened tonight?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore. He didn’t seem annoyed, but you couldn’t read him. The silence that followed your words was suffocating— Unbearably so. Each second of quiet staring was making your ears ring. It was deafening. You wondered if there was any sound at all. Even the TV felt like white noise at this point.

Banda stepped down from the counter.

One step forward.

One step back.

Your bathroom wasn’t the definition of big. But when your back hit the wall, Banda didn’t move more. There was a safe distance between the two of you that he didn’t seem to feel like crossing. Nevertheless in this moment, his mere presence felt overwhelming.

“Things.” he finally answered, quietly. “I pretended to drink a few shots with those third-years. Didn’t try to pretend to like them. They got annoyed and we fought.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “And?”

He took a step forward and came so close you felt all your sensed melt away for a moment. A short moment that felt as long as ever.

Then he grabbed the band-aid from between your tightening fingers and looked up at you. He smiled casually, moving back with a shrug of his shoulders. “And nothing.”

You felt like a weight was lifted from your chest, but the tension in the air didn’t dissipate entirely. Banda peeled off the plastic bits of the band-aid, before staring at himself in the mirror above your sink to carefully place it on his wound.

Then he glanced at you in the reflection. “What? Why are you stuck to the wall like this? You scared?”

You pushed yourself up instantly. “No. Why would I be?” you spoke quietly, turning away to walk outside the bathroom.

“Because you think I killed that man.”

A chill ran down your spine.

“I didn’t.” he said casually, lifting your worries a little, before plunging another knife into your chest, “Mean to, I mean.”

“Sunato.” you scoffed, turning around, only to realize he’d gotten impossibly close to you. Your voice weakened, much to tour dismay, “Stop joking around.”

“Should I?” he mused, tilting his head and searching your eyes. “I’m not joking, though.”

You shoved his shoulder and he only smiled. This didn’t feel like seeing someone you didn’t know. It just felt like he revealed a part of himself he hadn’t tried to hide, but hadn’t spoken about. Like something both painfully obvious and incredibly easy to miss. Banda was serious— He would have killed one of those people if he felt like it. And from the amount of times he’d showed up bruised and bloody at your door, a part of you that made your stomach twist told you he might’ve killed someone already.

“Leave. I won’t tell anyone.” you said, “ But if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you myself.” you spoke before you could think about it.

He didn’t argue, seemingly pleased with your response.

“If you try to kill me, be certain I’ll do the same.”

Present day.

Jack of Hearts.

You sighed audibly as you let the choker click around your neck. Getting used to playing games so much it was a routine was almost worrying. Alas.

You walked up the stairs to the guards’ room and took a long look at every person present. They all seemed to either be grouped up, having come over there with someone, or alone. You walked over to a spot with less people, and leaned against the wall of the corridor. On the other side of it, someone was staring at you.

You turned to meet their gaze. Then your eyebrows furrowed. “… The tag game?”

The boy in a white jacket chuckled. “Nice to see you again.”

You laughed a little as you turned back around. It wasn’t often you met people from previous games again. In this case, it was almost comforting. He didn’t seem all that bad.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs and your attention moved there. You stared at the staircase— People around you didn’t seem really attentive, not really caring about the last player for this game joining in. You had taken the second to last choker. So it could only be that. You figured making sure you saw every player could be useful.

Your eyes widened once you caught sight of the new person’s face. Your gazes met for a split second and you could swear you both scoffed— Although he seemed more like he was laughing.

The first round went by swiftly.

As expected, no one tried killing anyone. It was too early— Too risky. You stepped out of the cell with a deep sigh. You’d joined Urumi’s group so she wouldn’t try and turn the group of annoyingly naive followers she had against you at some point, but no part of you was pleased either. Everything about that girl screamed manipulator.

You started to wonder how many manipulative people were present in this game. Almost unfortunately, more naive ones seemed to be there— Which meant bigger groups to deal with if their leader was against you.

While the first one round went by calmly, you didn’t expect the rest to follow that rhythm. And just as expected, while everyone fell in mostly quiet conversation, the brute from the beginning of the game brought the person he’d decided to pick on to the main room with undeserved punches and kicks. You heaved a sigh at the sight.

The next few rounds were the real start of the game.

When someone told the poor guy to lie to the man who’d been beating him to know the suit on his collar, you weren’t against it. If that man was to die, it would be even better for his victim to kill him. Your only problem with this, really, was Banda Sunato staring right at you as his lips worded out the synonym of ‘kill him’ to the man. You’d chuckled dryly and he only gave you this unreadable look that made you want nothing more than wrap your hands around his neck.

Round four came around.

You were getting tired. You sighed deeply, chest heaving. You tried to focus, really. But it would’ve all been easier if you hadn’t been in the same game as him. Your hands touched the bottles of flavored drinks on the shelf in front of you. “They would taste awful warm. Couldn’t they refrigerate them?” you mumbled, complaining to yourself.

Footsteps slowed down next to you. Irritatingly familiar.

Fingers brushed against the nape of your neck briefly, sending a chill down your spine. “Your suit is Spade.” Banda’s voice whispered close to your ear, “You should be careful of who you trust.”

“Like I should trust you.” you spoke quietly, kind enough not to announce to everyone here that he was just as suspicious as they probably though. You turned to look at him and he smiled.

“Am I not trustworthy to you?” he breathed out a laugh, “That’s five years of friendship you’re ignoring.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re sweet.” he hummed, leaving you alone nevertheless.

Years. Years without seeing him once. And this is the first conversation you have. It’s almost fitting.

You went and sat at the table the boy whose name you learned was Chishiya Shuntaro was sitting at, along with Ippei Oka. They seemed to be the most two trustworthy of the bunch.

Chishiya was frank. Blunt to a fault. This was assurance that he wouldn’t lie to you. Following the way he seemed to think from the few times you’d talk and overheard him, it didn’t line up with him to lie just to kill. Except if he was the Jack of Hearts and took his time gaining your trust.

Ippei was honest. Overly kind and unable to harm anyone. Your doubts of it being a facade faded once the girl manipulating an entire group of people— Urumi, told them to kill someone. You’d made it a point to stare at his eyes when she finally showed her true colors. There was no faking the terror in his features. Except if he was a really good actor.

You hated to admit but only one person in this entire prison had your entire trust. Ironically enough, it was also the person you told yourself you trusted the least.

You made eye contact with him across the cafeteria and he raised his eyebrows like he was asking you ‘What?’ then a smile, ‘Missed me?’.

You looked away.

Urumi was getting her group to kill someone again. A murderer or another, really. This was a prison, after all.

Round ten.

The cafeteria was probably the nicest place to be when it wasn’t suffocatingly crowded. Which it was, at the moment, despite the amount of players that had been killed already. You grabbed a box of chocolate Pocky and walked out of the cafeteria swiftly. There really was nothing good that came out of staying with people. Especially in these games.

Walking up the stairs, you tore off the packaging before grabbing a stick and holding it between your teeth.

Then someone grabbed you. They pulled you into a corner you hadn’t been paying attention to, and in a second, Banda was leaning against the wall and you were hovering over him. He leaned forward and took a bite out of the Pocky that was still in your mouth and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Really?” you scoffed, finishing the rest as you pushed yourself up, “What’s wrong with you? What do you want?”

“Your cooperation.” he said. You felt your defenses fall the moment he spoke. To be honest every time you two would exchange a few words, the same thing happened. You weakened in front of him. It was like letting him watch you crumble down into his hands without him even having to try— You hated it.

Even after all this time there was a part of you that was too attached to him. Too much to simply move on after the way you ended things. Before everything he was your best friend. He used to be. And that’s why the genuineness in his voice felt this important. Banda Sunato was a liar when he wanted to. He lied as easy as he breathed but preferred to dance around the truth. However this time, he really wanted your help.

You couldn’t see why.

“You have that guy following you around. He looks like he’d trust you even if you held a gun to his head, why are you asking me for anything?” you asked and the usual bite left your tone, unconsciously.

Banda did that thing— Searching for an answer to questions untold in your eyes. He stared and stared and all you could do was freeze in place. Then he would look right at you. Properly.

“You’re the only one I can really trust.”

“So now we’re just lying?”

He chuckled, tilting his head a little, gaze wavering. “I don’t know if you should be talking about lies. Didn’t you say you’d kill me if we saw each other again?” he looked back at you, “I’m still standing. What’s up with that?”

“You would’ve seen right through me. And killed me afterwards.” you only half-lied, “I didn’t feel like risking that.”

He raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t buying it. “I wouldn’t kill my best friend.”

“Banda.”

“Oh, we’re on last-name basis? Sorry.” he said emotionlessly, “I guess you really did mean it when you said you didn’t want to see me again. I thought you were joking.”

You made a face and he chuckled, “Come on. Turn around.”

“That’s awfully authoritative.” you mocked him. He raised his eyebrows, then pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between the two of you just like that. You flinched a little but he only took a step to the side, then walked behind you.

“Let’s see.” he near-whispered. His fingers settled on the sides of your neck softly but enough to make your chest burn, “That’s Heart.” he said, impossibly quiet and close to you. There was something in his voice when he talked to you sometimes that you hated. It was quiet and low and touched parts of your hearts it shouldn’t. Even years ago, he always acted like this. He played around with your feelings, testing your reaction, for seemingly no reason at all.

Just for fun, you guessed.

You turned around just enough to look at him and he waited. You heaved a long sigh, before grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. He chuckled as he followed the movement, clearly amused by your behavior.

“Diamond.”

“Mm.” he hummed, spinning on his heel to turn back around, “Thank you. I’ll probably need your help in the last round.”

“Who says I’ll help you?”

“Do you genuinely have a good reason not to?”

You took a breath. And then left him.

Round thirteen. Or the last round, according to Chishiya. You were tense— Awfully so. It’s not that you feared dying. Or at the very least, not entirely. But it was more so the quiet plotting, revelations of alliances, last-minute decisions made based on instinct alone that scared you. Chishiya and Banda had both implied this round would be the last.

“Spade.” you spoke clearly. Ten seconds passed.

You tilted your head once the time was up and walked to the door, before waiting. Ten seconds more. Then you carefully and quietly opened it. You were careful to close it just as silently once you heard two familiar voices talking on the floor below you.

“So you do trust me, after all.” Banda said, stepping out of his cell. He was the one to tell you to wait. You almost regretted your decision the second you heard him claim you trusted him again.

“And you trust me.” you replied, reffering to the fact that he was clearly alive after trusting your word on his symbol. “Surprising.”

You looked over at him and saw the man he had seemingly become the ally of walk ahead of him. Banda tilted his head, “Unsurprisingly. Will you wait for me when we leave?”

You looked downstairs for a moment, seeing the suspected Jack of Hearts get cornered, and then looked back up at Banda. “Hm.” you hummed, looking around, “Should I?”

He simply shrugged before walking away, leaving you with just a smile. In a world like this one, was killing people really something to be shocked about anymore? After three years without him and more than a month in this place, were your thoughts on the matter that made you cut him off really still the same?

You scoffed. Of course not.

When the airship exploded above the prison, you stayed at the entrance to wait. And when Banda finally came, he smiled more genuinely than you’d seen him in years.

“You’re bloody.”

“Nothing new.”

“… Annoyingly so.”

#banda x reader #banda sunato x reader #alice in borderland x reader #aib x reader #x reader

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