#tuna fishing vessels

[worldtunaday]

Bluefin Tuna Index.

The Bluefin Tuna Index provides detailed information about bluefin tuna habitat to management bodies to inform decision making. The index tracks favorable habitat for the bluefin tuna in near-real time and is used by NOAA Fisheries in stock assessments. With better-informed catch limits and location information, commercial fishing operations are able to harvest their catch both successfully and sustainably.

Learn more Bluefin Tuna Index

#yellowfin tuna #tunafish #bigeye tuna #albacore tuna #bluefin tuna #tuna fishing vessels #managing tuna fisheries #NOAA

[no-less-than-a-god]

“May I ask a question?” The Lamb’s voice carries easily through the Afterlife, and if The One Who Waits hadn’t just watched them die (an attack that they were too weakened to dodge, an arrow piercing their chest), he would have startled at how it echoes around them; Aym and Baal didn’t have such foresight, and both of them jerked, ears flicking and tails fluffing up for only a moment before calming.

“I have told you, Vessel,” The One Who Waits answers, as the Lamb grows close. “You are free to ask anything of your god.”

“Who are these two?” the Lamb asks, and gestures to the disciples on either side of the god. Having been directly referenced, both of their ears prick up, and they stand as straight as they can, alert and curious.

“They’re my disciples,” The One Who Waits replies, “gifted upon me as kits.”

He does not mention his sibling’s name, or the fact he knows it was them. It hurts to think about it, even now.

“Do they have names?”

The god makes a motion with his chained wrist, and addresses his keepers. “Speak freely, and introduce yourself to the Lamb.”

“Baal.”

“Aym.”

“Are you two brothers?”

“Yes,” it was Baal who replies, his brother’s head tilting as he answers. “Twins.”

“Who’s older?”

There is a pause. Both disciples look upon each other silently, before turning back to the Lamb they towered over.

“I think,” it was Aym who speaks this time, as he points his staff towards Baal, “he’s older.”

“Huh…” the Lamb trails off then, before speaking up again. “Who’s better at fighting?”

“I am,” both of them reply simultaneously, and then shoot each other a look.

“I beat you last time we sparred,” Aym says.

“But I had beaten you thrice before that,” Baal counters.

“Twice,” Aym corrects.

“Thrice,” Baal insists.

In a sudden move, Aym pounces on his brother, staff brandished. “I’ll show you who’s a better fighter!” he yells, and the two throw themselves off to the side, bickering and fighting.

Both the Lamb and The One Who Waits watches the brothers for a few moments, before the Lamb looks up at their god.

“Apologies, I seem to have caused that,” they say.

“They fight, it happens,” the god replies. He does not stop his disciples, or reprimand them from fighting in front of his vessel. Instead, he watches with amusement.

“It’s entertaining, most of the time,” he adds. “I’ve been keeping track of who wins.”

“Who’s winning, then?”

Beneath the veil, The One Who Waits begins to smile, and he turns back to the Lamb.

“They’re tied.”

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

“May I ask what happens to the offerings I give you?”

“My disciples eat the fish.”

“You don’t?”

“I cannot.”

“Would you like me to send other things, then?”

“The fish is adequate, Vessel. You do not have to.”

“Do you know what fish they prefer, then?”

“Aym prefers swordfish; Baal prefers tuna.”

“And you?”

“...It’s been too long for me to remember the tastes, but I remember being partial to salmon the most.”

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

“Does it hurt?” they ask, sitting among the ethereal ground. The One Who Waits watches them, as they peer up at him.

They look so small.

“Does what hurt?” he asks in return, although he has a speculation.

“The shackles, the chains. Being bound.”

The One Who Waits remains silent, contemplating, before he speaks honestly. “They have pained me for so long, I take no further notice. I have been forced to grow used to the unbearable agony; it no longer affects me as greatly as it once did. Is there a reason you ask, Vessel?”

The Lamb, The One Who Waits surprisingly finds, is silent. They’ve looked away from him, and suddenly, they’re standing up.

“I’m ready to go back,” they claim, and there’s a tremble at the end of their voice.

Ignoring that they failed to answer his own question, Narinder raises his bony arm, chainlinks clinking together, as he resurrects them.

Later, watching through the crown, he sees the Lamb descend upon the stone statue of Heket with their oversized hammer, smashing it to pieces.

Even as it rebuilds itself, the hammer brings it all down in a fit of rage, until the Lamb is doubled over with fatigue, panting and sweating.

Eligos brings their demise two days later, and neither god nor vessel speak as the Lamb looks upon The One Who Waits.

Thank you, he wants to say, for your rage. For caring. You did not have to do that, but you did. 

But he says nothing.

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

“Do you know how to play knucklebones?”

“I’ve watched the rat play it, many times. And I’ve watched you play it, many times more.”

“But do you know how to play?”

“I do not.”

“Can I teach you?

“With what dice, Vessel?”

“I have some in the crown. I can teach Aym and Baal too, if they want.”

“I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

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

“Have you always had a veil?” the Lamb asks, resting in their god’s hand. They had requested to lay down, after a painful and quite literal run-in with an explosive fiend. They sit up, a curious tilt to their head.

“I acquired one not long after my ascension to a Bishop,” The One Who Waits replies. Nearby, the sound of staff clacking together continues as the twins spar. “There were complaints of my gaze being uncomfortable. Unnerving.”

The Lamb pauses, before they softly ask, “May I see?”

“The veil?”

“Your face.”

A century ago, a request as such would have given him pause. He would have declined, and sent the Lamb away.

Instead, he slowly brings his arm up, and leans down. The Lamb ducks under the veil, and for the first time, the god and vessel make true eye contact.

Red meets white. The One Who Waits looks, unblinking, as the Lamb stares back into his eyes.

Something touches his nose, and it twitches involuntarily at the unfamiliar sensation. It takes the god a few seconds to realize it’s the Lamb’s hand.

The Lamb smiles, gently. “Your eyes. They’re a pretty red.”

The One Who Waits’ ear flicks.

“Like camellias. Or fresh blood. It’s nice.”

“Vessel,” the god whispers, because they’re so close. “I ask you to stop talking.”

The Lamb leans against The One Who Waits’ nose, and all he can smell is them. “And I ask,” they reply, their smile growing, “is that I can continue praising my god’s bea-”

“Lamb-” The One Who Waits interrupts, and it comes out soft. Something warm curls in his chest, around his unbeating heart.

“What shall become of me, if I don’t stop talking?” the Lamb asks in a whisper. 

A purr threatens to rip itself from the god’s chest.

“I’ll send you back to your followers,” The One Who Waits replies.

The threat is empty, and both of them know it.

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

“Was Kallamar your elder or younger brother?”

“Elder.”

“And Heket was younger. Does that mean you were the middle sibling?”

“Yes, I was in the middle. Two came before, and two after.”

“May I ask what it was like, having siblings?”

“I assure you, Vessel, my experience with siblinghood is most definitely different from the norm.”

“I rephrase: May I ask what it was like for you, having siblings? May I know more of my god’s past?”

“Draw close, Lamb, and I shall tell you.”

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

“Shamura spoke to me.” 

The One Who Waits flicks his ear, half because of hearing his sibling’s name on his lamb's tongue, half because they sound nervous.

The Lamb continues speaking. “They told me something. A name.”

The god freezes. He stills so suddenly, not even his chains clink. It's silent.

He knows what name Shamura had spoken. He wasn't watching the Lamb during their crusade, but he knows.

He remembers, faintly, his name uttered in vain, in fear and disgust. In hatred, or indifference.

“Were they telling the truth?” the Lamb asks. “Is your name Narinder?”

Reverence. How long ago did someone last say his name with such reverence?

“It is,” he replies, and he pretends his voice doesn’t tremble at the end.

“Can I call you that?”

The answer comes at once, without thought or hesitation, “Yes.”

“Much easier to say than your title,” the Lamb smiles a little, “right, Narinder?”

His own purr surprises him, and he watches as the Lamb’s smile grows into something soft, something fond.

Off to the side, Baal and Aym shoot their master a strange look.

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

“What do you plan to do, once you’re free?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been trapped for almost a millennium, Narinder, surely you’ve thought of something?”

“I’ve had ideas in the past, but they’ve changed. Now, I’m unsure.”

“I can help you think of something, if you want.”

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

Narinder, The One Who Waits, has dreamed of freedom for centuries. All he’s wished for, as time passed in his eternal prison, is that he could be set free.

The Lamb’s arrival to him, covered in chains and looking ragged, had filled him with ecstatic bloodlust.

They were it, his key. With them as his final sacrifice, he’d be free.

That thought would keep him gleeful, a comfort. With their death, he’ll find his freedom.

But something changed.

Now, the thought fills him with dread.

With their death, he’ll be free.

For the first time since he was shackled, his dreams aren’t filled with revenge, with tearing himself free and escaping.

For the first time, he becomes weary of his own domain.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die to free him.

He wants them alive. He wants them to stay, sleeping against his claw and chest, saying his name, peering under his veil.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die.

Which is why, when they bow to him, his crown in their hands, he cannot find the words he’s dreamed of saying for centuries, the words he’s supposed to say.

It’s why, fists clenching, he says, “No.”

Good afternoon, I woke up and chose violence today! More specifically, I decided today I would write short fragments of interaction between narinder and the lamb during their vessel years

also. lore :)

anyways if anyone's curious I listened to "Home" by Pinkshift while writing this

#loredump #fickle thing #narilamb #cult of the lamb #cotl

[drenosa]

Previously

Somewhere out at sea an Express Cruiser the Valean Fishing Vessel "The Raging Sloth" lazily rides the waves

Ren: *Behind the wheel, a bicorn on his head, humming a sea shanty to himself* This is nice.

Jaune: *Watching over a set of heavy duty fishing poles* Thanks for reminding to take my motion-sickness meds, guys. I almost forgot them in the excitement.

Sun: *Sitting on a deck chair, brewski in hand* Hey, no problem my guy. We all got a little excited.

Neptune: *A face on a Wide-Scroll that's hanging from the cabin wall.* Yeah, weird how that happens.

Sage: *Standing with Jaune, minding the poles* Still, it's great to just be away from everything for a bit. Just us, the water, the fishing poles...

Scarlet: *On the upper level of the boat* A large boat approaching fast!

Sage: And large boats approaching fast... Wait what?

A larger vessel is making a beeline for the Raging Sloth. Before long it pulls up beside them.

Sun: We should... should we be worried?

Jaune: *Sharing a look with Ren, who slowly nods* Yes. Yes, we should probably be worried.

????: ~Ahoy, Boyos!~

Jaune: Not probably... Definitely.

Yang: *Standing on the deck of the larger vessel (The Dolphin Puncher) in swimming trunks and a most flattering bikini-top, a straw hat sits on top of her wild blonde locks* You guys thought you could just go out to sea and NOT invite me?! A Patch-girl born and raised? I was fishing long before I started punching! And I started doing that before I could properly walk.

Jaune: *Trying to find a way out, looking at the rest of the guys* Well... it might...

Ren: *Placed his bicorn on top of Jaune's head, has fled deep into the boat's cabin*

Sun: *Finding the fishing poles very interesting*

Scarlet: *Minding his business up top*

Sage: *Joined Scarlet*

Neptune: *Disconnected Scroll call*

Jaune: Traitors. It might have slipped our minds our little. Say... who's also there with you?

Nora: *Sickeningly sweet tone, in a cute pink one-piece with frills* ~Oh, Renny.~ That tub of yours better have a captain's cabin.

Ren: *Muffled noises of a barricade being erected*

Nora: *Heading into the cabin* Oh ho ho, I do like a challenge.

Jaune: Right... And the rest is there too, right? Weiss paying?

Weiss: *In a white and blue bikini, sarong and a very wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun from her perfectly pale skin* Against my better judgement, yes. Just be thankful I've got access to my own private, and very sizable, funds.

Blake: *Already on The Raging Sloth, wearing a form-fitting diving suit with the front zipped down, she's watching the fishing poles with Sun* These waters are renowned for their tuna. I was never not going to join because of that.

Ruby: *In swimming trunks, Menagerie-patterned shirt and a Patch Strikers Cap* Our dad's got the local record for most fish and biggest fish caught back home. Imma gonna get those international prices, buddy!

Jaune: Well, it's lovely of you to be here, I guess. Uhm. Where's Pyrrha?

Yang: Oh yeah... she's hyping herself up.

Jaune: What's that supposed... to... *Sees the last person appearing next to Yang*

Pyrrha: *In a red and green patterned bikini that accentuates each and every curve of her perfectly toned body, her brilliant long red hair freely cascading down her back, has a shy but radiant smile as she greets Jaune* Hello, again.

Jaune: *Blinks once, twice* Oh... Hello to you too.

Yang: Alright, dumb stuff out of the way. Let's get to business!

Various noises of various levels of excitement rang out that day.

No-one was allowed, nor had the intention of entering the captain's quarters. The noises scared everyone, but Ren was congratulated afterwards by all the guys on board.

Sun caught the biggest tuna, it was lost to the greedy, hungry belly of one Blake Belladonna who "Regrets nothing!".

Ruby caught the biggest tuna that the rest managed to keep Blake away from.

Weiss did not catch a sunburn, surprising everyone including herself.

Jaune did not get motion-sick, also surprising everyone.

Pyrrha finally got her hands on her knight. The knight is still somewhat confused but happier than ever.

#rwby #rwby shitpost #lie ren #jaune arc #team sssn #team rwby #team jnpr #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #arkos #renora

[i-was-today-years-old-when]

i learned that it’s impossible to buy a live Tuna. Although they are one of the mightiest fish in the ocean they die as soon as they are brought on board the fishing vessel. In fact, when they swim in the sea they will die almost instantly if they stopped swimming.

This is because Tuna breath through a process called Ram Ventilation. This mean they have to keep moving to let water flow over their gills, constantly supplying them with oxygen. This is even true when they are sleeping. They’re also one of three species of fish, Tuna, Opah, and mackerel sharks that can maintain a temperature higher then the surrounding water.

#today i learned #facts #truth #fish #animals

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 3 - An Unwelcomed Guest

— — — — — — —

Bill’s head hurt.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body. 

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past. 

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later. 

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate. 

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate. 

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees? 

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious. 

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

“Stop talking.”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze. 

Oh, he was real mad. 

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You’re really getting dull in your old age, Fordsy.” 

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably. 

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Heck with it, he couldn’t resist the chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons. To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted?

If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home. 

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation. 

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track. 

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better. 

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist, nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place.

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight. 

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened as he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him. 

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “But seriously, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good—”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said, pressing a weary hand to his temple. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He took a sweeping glance around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.” 

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out. 

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.” 

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind. 

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents. 

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kinda—”

She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.” 

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to his knees, and he gave the two of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids. 

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side.

When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

His hand once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — — 

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe?—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated. 

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford. So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines. You and the kids, of course.”

It didn’t bother him. 

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise. 

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back.

Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack. 

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write. 

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him. 

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned.

Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year.

A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull. 

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet lightly bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn’t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause. 

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—his everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head.

A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay.

And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can���t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Hmm, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “I can’t even hear just how much this chair is probably screaming from the way I’ve been rocking it back and forth.”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the guy’s absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed. 

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!” 

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I believe was on my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects.

What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react. 

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Bill Cipher #Stanford Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art) #(Stan and Mabel get some decent screentime in this chapter as well)

[searchingforserendipity25]

Hold His Own | on ao3.

Elros and his family, for @nolofinweanweek.

Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest. (All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).

In his old age, Tar-Minyatur looked little older than his grandson's children. Silver was in his hair, and the silver of his eyes a little dulled; but his mind was sharp still, and eager. He walked the quays every day, and bent his back on harvesting seasons. 

Only his son's growing weakness kept him from venturing out on the fishing vessels that scoured Ulmo's realm for fat tunas and rich whales - and all his children and their children were raised more on tales of the first eventful seal-hunting expeditions up and down the shores of Númenor than on tales of Beleriand.

 Sirion, Doriath, Gondolin and Hithlum - those came later, when they learned their letters and their histories. His brother, in love with lore and the keeping of lore, would argue against it, and no doubt rear his children in the wisdom of Melian's line and the solemnity of eternal memory.

Elros was mortal. He raised his people to love themselves first of all, their cities and language and ways. They sang new songs every season, composed new and useless rhythms with dizzying speed - and the king of Elenna, who had grown among enemies, and made war on Melkor, delighted above all things in this speedy work, the restless pettiness of every day's effort.

The work of one's hands was rarely more beautiful than when it was raised up to protect against wind, hail and spray - than when towers were raised on strong foundations, and around them cities raised on beautiful lines.

He wrote his deeds and thoughts in treatises and decrees, the lore made to be read by lore masters in centuries to come. It was important to keep the past alive, and prepare for the future, study portents and ignore not foresight - Yet not, Elros wrote in the letters he tossed at the waves, Mithlond-bound, at the expense of this year's seaweed nurseries.

Vardamir was hungry enough to learn, and Tindómiel cared mostly for the business of the ships and the studies of the stars - Atanalcar went pearl-diving most of the summer, every summer of his life, and Manwendil liked riding best of all, and was a friend to the sea-birds that brought him small tokens of sea-glass and feathers.

Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest. 

(All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).

He soothes them all. Lullabies, half-forgotten and half-improvised, sweet with Menegroth's lilting rhymes; a few tries at the harp, and their little heads rested trustingly on his shoulder, asleep without fear again.

Dreams were only dreams, in the morning. None of them saw bloodshed before their coming of age; none of them would shed blood unjustly, for greed.

Tar-Minyatur knew this, because they were his children. He knew also that their children were like to have children themselves, and for all the friendship of the sea, an island was only so large and plentiful as the number of its people allowed them to be.

The gulls brought gifts to him, too. Perhaps they would do so to his descendants, too, five or ten births down the line, if not twenty. Did birds lose the keenness of their memory, as old men did?

The king's windows were always open, to the fresh star-lit light of the evening, when the weather allowed. In his last years, his bones turned into tyrants even on warm nights, but Tar-Minyatur found time to evade his minders, to bring out his bowl of seaweed and dumplings to the parapets of his towers and speak to Gil-Estel all the same.

All the old people of the island did, when they were soon to die. That last bearing of witness, some of the Edain held, was what stars were for, and this one most of all.

They may choose to tear them down in time, and build them anew, wrote Tar-Minyatur, silver-haired and trembling with the cold of an open window, young still in a way his brother would never be again.

He had taken to reading old philosophical texts with his son's grandchildren, now that they were old enough to be interested in these things, to know death and be a little angry at it, and petulant about the old king's way of teasing them. They went off to complain to Vardamir, who explained everything a little better, a little more sensibly.

No one had called him Elros in many years. All the same, the king wrote: Let them be as they would! That will be their choice! But they shall choose, and choose to look onwards, not back into the unalterable past. The best gift I can give them is to give them some stone and soil to stand upon, and the will to go onwards as they would, with the years they have to live.

 Tar-Minyatur raised his children to know this. Great and terrible things came of that, and he foresaw many, if not most; but then, one must think of this day's effort most of all. The future would come, as certain as the tides and the summer storms. It was enough to leave behind strong foundations, and something of estel to pass onwards. All wise old men in Elenna knew this, and held it to be true.

#elros #elrond #vardamir #tindomiel #silm fic #nolofinweanweek #nolofinwëans #the fall of numenor #my fics #tolkien fanfiction

[fyreiswriting]

someone in a Coral Island discord i'm a part of put forth the idea that Alice, Noah, Millie, and Zarah should have their own YouTube channel, and then I said it should be in the style of Buzzfeed Unsolved, and then I started writing it. unfortunately something wasn't clicking -- it was ok, sure, lots of interesting worldbuilding and headcanons, but it just didn't feel like it was working.

and then it hit me: it's because both Noah and Alice believe in the supernatural. there wasn't anyone to play devil's advocate to their theories.

anyways, that spawned this little snippet:

“Ok, so now for the fun part,” Noah said as they sat back down behind the desk. He pulled out a second file and placed it on top of the first. “Recent evidence.” “Oh boy,” Imogene said with an eye-roll. “Could we make this a drinking game? Take a shot every time it’s very obviously a dolphin or something?” “Imogene!” Alice squawked, laughing bright and loud. Noah grinned, shaking his head.

“What?! I’m just saying! Half the time you see images of ‘Merfolk’ and it’s either shot with a thirty-year-old Nokia while being flung like a football or it’s literally just a dolphin or an orca or something leaping out of the water!” “You’re really gonna love some of these, then,” Noah told her, glancing over his shoulder. She slumped back in her chair with an over-the-top groan, which set Alice off laughing again. “First up – we have a video shot five years ago, off the coast of Peru. Let’s take a look.” The video ran, clearly shot by an old cell phone on a small fishing vessel. Two voices chattered quickly behind the camera as they pointed the lens off the side of the boat. The boat rocked, moving the camera with it.  Then – perhaps a hundred meters off the side of the boat – something very briefly flashed in the water. A tail flicked above the surface, sending a splash of water high overhead. One of the men shouted excitedly, pointing.  Noah paused the video there. “Tuna,” Imogene said without missing a beat.

feat. my much-beloved farmer, stirring up shit with Alice and Noah. (she will absolutely tell Semeru, her boyfriend, about this later and laugh so hard she pulls something in her side. I love her very much.

#coral island #fanfic #snippets #my writing

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Uncharismatic Fact of the Day

Most fish are cold-blooded, but bluefin tuna are an exception. These fist have a blood vessel system known as a countercurrent exchanger. A mesh of veins and arteries circulate blood near the surface of the fish’s skin; the veins capture heat generated by an individual’s metablism, and the arteries transfer that heat back into the body. The system is not foolproof, and tuna are not wholly warm-blooded, but it does allow them to survive in much colder temperature for much longer than other fish species, and it makes them much more effective hunters.

(Image: A school of bluefin tuna (Thunnus thynnus) by Ugo Montaldo)

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

#bluefin tuna #Scombriformes #Scombridae #bluefin group #true tunas #tunas #Ray-Finned Fish #bony fish #fish #uncharismatic facts

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #204

Yellowfin tuna!

This predatory fish is highly migratory, and they will travel in groups that can consist of multiple tuna species! They also travel with whales and dolphins and appear to enjoy following boats and other vessels as well.

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #biology #zoology #aquatic #fishblr #marine biology #marine life #sea creatures #sea life #tuna #yellowfin tuna

[thecreaturecodex]

Umishika

Image © Matthew Meyer, accessed at Yokai.com here

[Perytons do not exist. I mean, even more than usual for the monsters covered on this blog. Rather than being a folkloric or mythological creature, a heraldic beast or a misinterpretation of a real animal, the peryton is a literary hoax perpetuated by Jorge Luis Borges in his book The Book of Imaginary Beings. Borges wasn’t particularly subtle--he claims that the manuscript describing the perytons dates back to Atlantis--but the peryton has been adopted as a semi-popular monster regardless. Borges wasn’t the only one to have thought that “what if a deer was scarier” was a good monster concept, as this sea monster from Yakushima folklore indicates.]

Umishika CR 4 CE Magical Beast This creature has the upper body of a stag and the lower body of an eel. Its teeth are canine and sharp, and its rack of antlers is keen.

The umishika are aquatic kin to perytons, and are believed to have been created in the same arcane disaster that made those savage chimeras. Umishika combine features of deer, eels and seals, and are just as savage and violent as perytons are. They are more social, however, gathering regularly into shoals in order to gang up on prey and drive competition away. They eat mostly fish, but view fishing vessels as competitors, stalking them and climbing up onto deck at night in order to kill and eat their crews. 

An umishika’s shadow behaves strangely. It clings close to the monster, and when underwater distorts the umishika’s appearance so that it resembles the outline of a large fish such as a tuna or dorado. Umishika use this ability to approach close to prey with relatively little fuss, and may even attract predators or fishermen to them before the tables turn. An umishika’s teeth are sharp, but it uses them mostly to process food after puncturing it with horns and hooves. Although they branch like antlers, the horns of an umishika are not lost seasonally, and are found on individuals of all sexes.

Umishika            CR 4 XP 1,200 CE Medium magical beast Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low light vision, Perception +8, scent Defense AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14 (+3 Dex, +4 natural) hp 42 (5d10+15) Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +3 DR 5/magic Defensive Abilities shadow shroud Offense Speed 20 ft., swim 60 ft. Melee gore +8 (1d6+3/18-20), 2 hooves +6 (1d4+1) Special Attacks horrific critical Statistics Str 17, Dex 16, Con 17, Int 11, Wis 14, Cha 12 Base Atk +5; CMB +8; CMD 21 Feats Athletic, Improved Initiative, Multiattack Skills Climb +10, Disguise +3 (+11 as mundane fish), Perception +7, Stealth +8 Swim +18; Racial Modifier +8 to Disguise as mundane fish Languages Aquan SQ hold breath Ecology Environment any aquatic Organization solitary, pair or shoal (3-9) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Horrific Critical (Ex) An umishika’s gore attack threatens a critical hit on a roll of 18-20. If an umishika kills a humanoid foe with a critical hit, it can tear out the victim’s heart with its teeth as a free action. Any creature that witnesses this must succeed a DC 13 Will save or be shaken for 1 round. This is a mind-influencing fear effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Shadow Shroud (Su) An umishika has concealment when it is underwater.

#umishika #yokai #peryton #chimera #world tour #pathfinder 1e

[imagineanime2022]

Their S/O is Sukuna’s Other Vessel

Toge Inumaki X Reader, Yuji Itadori X Reader, Satoru Gojo X Reader, Megumi Fushiguro X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Could you do how Toge, Itadori, Gojo, and Megumi would react to the reader being a second vessel of Sukuna but like the total opposite of Itadori? So instead of the bubbliness the reader is just violent. The reader has been at this for a while and is the ideal vessel for Sukuna. They are strong, witty, and overall just don't really care what happens around them. I hope that's enough to go off of…

🆗 So here are some things that you might want to know to help you understand where I’m going with this idea of mine.

🆗 So first up I decided to spin the story a little so that Sukuna had a physical vessel (Itardori) someone who matches his physical abilities and energy levels and a cognitive vessel (reader) someone who matched his mental strength and intelligence.

🆗 The fact that the reader shares a similar mind to Sukuna means that she used the same abilities as him and even has the potential to access his domain expansion.

🆗 The reader is also a lot more susceptible to suggestions from Sukuna and has a hard time actually turning him down.

🆗 While they’ve never eaten a finger, the connection to the domain expansion allows him to talk into their head the same way he does with Itadori. They can also hear conversations between Itadori and Sukuna if they are close enough.

Toge Inukami

🍙 The cursed energy rolling off of you when Gojo first met you meant that you were added to the first years before anyone else could ask any questions.

🍙 You really started piquing everyone's interest when you used your cursed energy for the first time, to those who knew of him you were very similar to Sukuna. You were watched carefully after that.

🍙 You had no clue why and there was nothing of note for a whole year, instead you lived like any other student and even started dating Inumaki.

🍙 You worried him a lot, your ability to find a fight and insist on the most homicidal route was a talent to some and a nuisance to most others.

🍙 Inumaki spent a long time running around after you and making sure that you didn’t cause any trouble.

🍙 You only ever stepped forward to help Maki, Panda or Toge. They were the only people that you cared to save and in all honesty frustrated anyone else that had to deal with you.

🍙 Inumaki made sure to always be close to you, no one really knew how he did it but he was always able to calm you down and steer you away from a brewing problem.

🍙 His naturally quiet nature helped to keep you calm but if someone says anything about him then its game over.

🍙 Though he didn’t do it very often he could talk to you, you’d always been good at protecting yourself with cursed energy, so after the first time that he used it on you it never worked again.

You should have known that this exchange was going to end terribly, you for obvious reasons had been paired with Inumaki, you were both heading through the forest trying to locate the curse that you needed to exorcise but when you found it there was a much bigger problem in the form of a special grade “that’s not supposed to be here.” You mumbled.

“Yellow fish tuna, prawn roe.” Inumaki said as he opened the collar of his jacket “careful.” 

“Same to you.” You mumbled lowering yourself into a fighting stance “Ready?” 

“Salmon.” He answered.

“Hey!” You yelled, flicking your fingers and causing a slash over the curses shoulder, it turned to the both of you and the fight that ensued from there was something you hadn’t expected, it was stronger than you thought and before long you were taking steps back instead of forward, you were scared of it by any mean but it wasn’t allowing for you to actually get a hit in, you dragged your arms up to block your face before kicked off of it to make some space between you. You looked for Inumaki and saw that he was fine, it seemed that he had kept his distance, he had said something to help you put the distance between you.

“You need some help there sweetheart?” A voice asked, at first you thought that it was the curse in front of you “here.” you felt a pressure on your hands as they were pushed together, your fingers moved into position “channel you energy.” Before you knew what was happening you there was a domain expansion, Inumaki made his way to you keeping close “Malevolent Shrine.” You looked up at the throne where you could see Sukuna sitting, his chin lazily rested on his knuckles as he watched you.

“What did you do?” You asked.

“I didn’t do anything sweetheart.” Sukuna answered as he leaned forward. “You did this all by yourself.” 

“And what do you expect us to fight for your entertainment?” You asked.

“I’m not opposed.” Sukuna answered as he appeared at the bottom of the bones that stacked under his throne. You felt Inumaki step closer to you “mm, You look stronger than the other kid, at least in the head.” 

“How are you here?” You asked, your eyes moved to the curse that had started moving to the left of you

“That punk is around here somewhere, apparently you both just have to be close to each other for me to travel between your minds, but it seems that you can move in and out of my domain as you please.” Sukuna grunted.

“How frustrating for you.” You smirked.

“Isn’t it so are you going to kill it now?” He asked.

“What?” You asked.

“The curse.” He answered.

“Oh I forgot that thing was here.” You looked at it and frowned. 

“You should kill it.” Sukuna smirked “you’ve got a 100% success rate here, there’s no way that you'll lose this fight.” You felt Inumaki link his hand with yours coming to stand next to you.

“Leave her alone.” He ordered, he was sure that the curse speech wouldn’t work on Sukuna but he had to try something to stop you, you should keep the curse alive, it still might be able to tell you something about why it’s here. Sukuna glared at Inumaki as he looked him over but that was enough to snap you out of your confusion, you snatched your hand from his pushing them together and dispelling the expansion.

“You know you really are stronger than the brat, maybe you're worth something.” Sukuna’s voice traveled through your head before his presence was gone.

“Salmon Roe!” Inumaki grabbed your attention before pulling you with him to start running, it seemed like the curse wasn’t going to let you get that close to killing it again, branches followed close behind you as you both tried to get away from it.

It wasn’t long before you ran into Megumi and Kamo “Inumaki get them out of here.” You ordered as you turned, slashing at the branches that were heading their way, unfortunately the ones closest to you managed to scratch your arm but it was nothing too bad, you all met on the courtyard floor.

“A curse in Jujustu Tech, who made this barrier?” Kamo asked.

“Probably the curse user who’s working with it.” Megumi answered and you looked at him and nodded.

“We haven’t seen anyone else around though, they split up before we ran into it.” You explained.

“Do you all know something about this?” Kamo asked.

“Yes, I think this is the special grade that attacked Gojo.” Megumi answered. They were probably looking for Itadori although you may well have put a target on your own back now.

“Tunamayo.” Inumaki said, putting up a hand sign that resembled a phone.

“Right we should call Gojo.” Magumi nodded before Megumi could actually call Gojo. The curse moved to stop him, you pulled Inumaki out of the way as he ordered it to stop moving after a few hits they all realized that they weren’t hurting it.

“Who hurt it before?” Kamo asked.

“I did but I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it again, if I move it moves.” You answered, eyes never leaving the curse in front of me “not to mention I might be close to my limit now.” 

After a series of running and hitting back you were all backed into a corner, Inumaki was at his limit and the other two didn’t really have anything that could hurt the thing so it was all or nothing “well now I’m pissed,” You mumbled as you lifted your hand and flicked your hand cutting deeper into its shoulder.

“Blast away!” Inumaki yelled as he pulled you back, your body reaching its limit was easy to move, but you were still able to catch him as he fell, leaving Maki and Megumi to continue the fight you looped Inumaki’s arm over your shoulder ready to leave.

“Bonito Flakes.” Inumaki managed to say and you looked at him and then where he was pointing and groaned, you definitely couldn’t carry back two people but he definitely was not going to talk to you if you left Kamo here, before you could agonize too long because Nishimiya showed.

“Hey grab your guy we need to get them out of here!” You ordered.

“To where!?” She asked.

“I don’t know outside the barrier, do I look like an expert to you!?” You asked and she glared at you before picking up Kamo “Go as fast as you can, do not stop.” 

“If you tell me not to move one more time I’m going to put you in this bed!” You warned as you kicked your feet over the side of the bed.

“Seems that you're feeling better.” Gojo said as you stood from the bed.

“I was never not okay.” You grumbled and picked up any accessories that they had taken off of you when you had gotten to the school’s hospital wing.

“Mm. What happened out there?” He asked.

“I’m sure you already know that.” You answered, attempting to walk past him.

“Fine. Do you want to know why it happened?” Gojo asked, you stopped moving, you gestured for him to keep talking, Gojo went on to explain your place as Sukuna’s cognitive vessel.

Inumaki was happy to see you, while he was told that all he needed was to rest his throat, you were kept overnight for observation and that worried him. “Kelp!” He smiled as you walked into the room, you smiled at him but he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. “Mustard leaf?” 

“I’m okay.” You softly but he wasn’t having hit he pulled your face to look at him and you tried your hardest to convince him, you decided the best thing to do was tell him the truth after all he did see everything, after explaining everything you attempted to get up and leave because you had a habit of isolating yourself when something was bothering you, he didn’t let you get too far before grabbing your arm and pulling you back onto the bed with him.

“Tuna.” He mumbled before tracing the word ‘stay’ into the bottom of your back.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Salmon.” He answered as you relaxed into him until you needed to get up.

Yuji Itadori

👆 You were friends with Yuji before either of you knew about cursed energy and everything that came with it.

👆 You found out about cursed energy before Yuji did because you met Mahito, he told you about cursed energy and even showed you what he could do, however the real problem came when he tried to change you, he noticed something which made him pull away.

👆 From there on it seemed the cursed energy in you started to manifest and you were finding something new about yourself every day, you never told Yuji about anything that happened.

👆 You were both still very close and you did everything together, you even went to visit his grandfather with him, neither of you ever officially asked the other, people just assumed and you never corrected them.

👆 Yuji found out that you were lying to him the night that he ate the finger, though he never held it against you, he knew that he would have done the same if you didn’t know about cursed energy.

👆 Yuji was thankful to have you with him because nothing ever fazed you, you made sure that he knew that you weren’t going to let them kill him.

👆 You were enrolled in Jujutsu Tech with Yuji, you became fast friends with Megumi. Nobara took a little longer but you got there in the end.

👆 The second years were weary of you because they met you before they met Yuji. You were very similar to how Sukuna had been described in old passages and documentation kept about him, not to mention the strong energy that rolled off of you.

👆 When Gojo told you about the Higher ups idea of dealing with you and Yuji, you said “I will kill them all if they even attempt to carry out that plan, warn them if you like their knowledge of my threat makes no difference.” 

Megumi never called you, and yet his contact name stayed on the screen, you answered the phone and what you heard worried you, you started moving before you even knew what the problem was, you could hear Sukuna’s gravelly voice and while Megumi wasn’t actually talking to you, you could hear the heavy breaths, this was a fight that he wasn’t going to win. You knew that you should have been sent with them, the fact that they had split you up meant that they were up to something. You couldn’t ever prove that but you knew.

You managed to get there just in time to pull Megumi out of the way of one of Sukuna’s attacks, you took a defensive stance in front of him. “Mmm I thought they had you under house arrest or something.” Sukuna smirked as he leaned forward slightly.

“I was not on house arrest.” You glared at him, your eyes shifting over Yuji’s body to check for injuries.

“Are you checking me out brat?” Sukuna asked and you looked at him.

“I’m checking my boyfriend for any wounds.” You answered.

“Well in that case, he’s missing his heart, and the only way that you get it back is if he beats me in a fight.” He pointed behind you and Megumi.

“Is that because you know I can beat you?” You asked.

“More like I don’t want to ruin the only other chance I have of being free of this seal.” Sukuna answered and you frowned.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“You think that you're both together because it was your choice, you're drawn together, the body and mind of Ryomen Sukuna.” He stepped forward, while Yuji had a strong body, Sukuna could tell that you were the one more suited to being his vessel, your mind was far better suited “Actually if you make a deal with me right now I’ll restore your boyfriend's heart.”

“What deal?” You asked.

“(Y/N) don’t do it! We’ll find another way to get Itadori back!” Megumi tried to grab your attention.

“How about this..? If I bring back this brat’s heart, when the time's right you will give me your mind.” Sukuna suggested, you were about to tell him to get lost when you sensed a change in the air.

“(Y/N) looks like I really messed up this time, you're always cleaning up my messes. How about you let me deal with this one?” He asked.

“Yuji…” You stepped forward catching his body and falling to the ground with him.

It took them a long time to pry you away from the body but once they did, you locked yourself away in your room. At first you thought that hearing Yuji’s voice was normal, you guys had never really been apart so never being able to see him again was the worst thing that could have happened, however that night, you didn’t think that you’d be able to sleep but as you tried to imagine a world where things were different you ended up somewhere you never thought possible. Your feet were wet, why were they wet? You frowned when you opened your eyes. The red glow from the water beneath you made you uneasy “(Y/N)?” You looked up, he was standing there alive and breathing. 

“Yuji?” You asked.

“What are you doing here?” Yuji asked “are you okay!?” 

“She’s fine, idiot, this is my domain expansion, she can come and go as she pleases considering she’s the vessel that they sealed my mind into. “And while it’s promising that you managed to get here all on your own, I don’t need you here right now.” Sukuna flicked his hand and next thing you knew there was a sharp pain in your shoulder and you were awake, you looked around and saw that you were standing in the middle of a room, the walls were white, there was a table where you noticed Yuji’s body.

“(Y/N)?” You looked over and saw Gojo was sitting on the other side of the room, Ijichi was standing next to him and it seemed that Shoko had taken a step back away from you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know, I thought I was sleeping but-” You took your hand away from your shoulder to see the blood there.

“What happened?” Gojo asked, standing up and moving towards you carefully.

“Yuji isn’t dead.” You mumbled as you looked over at the body, you could see that the hole left by Sukuna had healed. “Who fixed him?” 

“You did.” Gojo answered. “How do you know that he’s still alive?” 

“He called it his domain expansion, Sukuna I mean.” You answered. “I’ll kill him one day.” 

“I bet you will.” Your eyes moved over to your boyfriend sitting up. 

“Yuji!?” You asked, moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. “What happened after he pushed me out?” 

“I don’t remember.” Yuji answered, his eyes landing on your shoulder. “I knew he hurt you! Bastard, I'll kill him!” 

“Alright everyone let’s calm down, (Y/N) let Shoko fix you up and Ijichi will get you some clothes, Yuji.” Gojo ordered.

Once everyone was fixed up Gojo gave you both a moment to talk “Are you sure that you're okay?” Yuji asked as he ran his hand over your bandaged shoulder.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that considering you were dead.” You giggled.

“I’m fine, you healed me, remember?” Yuji asked.

“Yeah I guess but-” 

“No buts.” Yuji smiled and kissed your nose. “After I’m done with this training I'll be right back by your side, nothing will change.”

“You better, otherwise I’ll kill you myself.” You warned him and you both heard Sukuna's dark chuckle, a reminder of the entity that you needed to kill.

Satoru Gojo

👀 When you were a kid people were scared of you, if you didn’t like something you got rid of it, that was how the Higher-ups ever found out about you, you didn’t care about what the school stood for but you wanted to go somewhere that was going to help you get stronger.

👀 The fear continued when you started a Jujutsu Tech and you didn’t care you kept to yourself you weren’t there to make friends anyway.

👀 Unfortunately for you, a training class between classmates put you on Gojo’s radar, he honestly had no idea who you were, even if you were in the same class as him but trust me he knew you after that training session.

👀 You were the only person who made him have to actually concentrate of training, you were going for the kill and he got the feeling that you honestly didn’t care what happened to him or anyone else.

👀 This was confirmed when you were sent on a mission with him, he found that you were literally there to kill everything in sight, you had no intention of finding the missing people or saving them if you did come across them.

👀 Gojo wanted nothing more than to get to know you better so he did what did best become the most annoying person that you knew, no matter what you did or how many times you tried to behead him with your technique he came back for more.

👀 No one outside of the two of you knew how you ended up together and honestly it probably had something to do with his persistence in getting to know you, when you finally stopped fighting for him you started falling for him instead.

👀 Gojo was about the only person that you couldn’t beat and therefore the only person that you listened to when he told you to stop and honestly that wasn’t very often.

👀 It was soon noticed that you actually tolerated him so you paired together for everything and that only meant that you got closer.

👀 Gojo would often use you as a distraction, for whatever he was doing, and there was rarely anything that could hurt you more than you could hurt it, he never had to worry about you.

👀 When Gojo became a teacher he brought you with him, you were never a teacher but you knew of his students and the potential that they carried but when Yuuta was brought to the school he brought you a new challenge in the form of Suguru Geto.

You felt the curses' presence before you heard the principal yelling and honestly you almost didn’t show up because you never really liked doing anything that you were told to do but when the presence of curses increased the curiosity was piqued. You appeared just as a threat was made “Careful Gojo your students are very much within my range.” Geto warned, with a flick of your wrist all of the lower level spirits were cleaved in half.

“Don’t get cocky now because you're well in mine.” You warned him as you finger swipe from left to right causing a cut to appear on his cheek.

“How dare you!?” A shrill voice sounded from behind him and your eyes moved to the girls that were standing there.

“Easy pray… You shut them up or I will.” You warned him, Geto looked behind him, the look on his face must have made them step back.

“Are you always late to the party?” Geto asked.

“I’m not late if I never intended on showing up.” You argued, shoving your hands in your pockets “The response just wasn’t speedy enough for me.” You looked around for a second before smiling “so are you going to leave or am I going to slit someone’s throat?”  You disappeared from your place in front of Geto appearing behind the girls “maybe I’ll kill a twin.” 

“You're really going to endanger the kids here?” Geto asked.

“I’m not a teacher here but if they belong to you then absolutely.” You smirked, the cursed energy rolling off of your bodies made the girls feel weak. When you looked up Gojo noticed that your normal (Y/E/C) iris had turned red.

“Geto leave!” Gojo warned him, he then turned to the people behind him “move the kids somewhere safe.” It seemed like everyone was getting the message, the feel of your energy pushing through and almost immobilizing the lower level sorcerer was enough, Geto managed to get to the twins as you stepped away from them.

This had happened before, there were a few occasions where this had happened before, Gojo knew that the power flowed through you wasn’t yours and when it took over he had to bring you back. The people fleeing the area knew that something was wrong when Gojo put up a vale. “What set you off this time?” He asked more to himself than anything else.

“She’s smarter than you think you know, just because she never liked him but she knew that you did, she knows what he means to you.” You answered, referring to yourself in third person, it was rare that you’d talk when this happened.

“Alright then who are you?” Gojo asked, hands now forced into his pockets.

“I’m sure you could figure it out, Six Eyes.” You smirked, Gojo took a hand out of his pocket and lifted the bandages over his eyes, when he looked at you properly he could see the silhouette leaning over you, he recognised the four arms and the two heads.

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Gojo sighed before teleporting behind you, he easily knocked you out, it seemed even in this form you had no intention of hurting him.

You groaned as you woke up, groaning at the cold hard floor underneath you “what am I doing on the floor?” You asked, realizing that your head was actually resting on his leg.

“I lost you again.” He answered.

“Oh sorry about that.” You mumbled sitting up.

“He talked to me this time.” Gojo said softly and you looked back at him. “Ryomen Sukuna, that’s the power that you're using.” You shrugged as you looked at him.

“There’s nothing that we can do about that now.” You sighed.

“You don’t know that yet.” Gojo answered.

“Even if we did, what happens to me then, I become some weak non sorcerer who needs people to protect her!” You argued as you stood up Gojo followed suit, his bandages back on his eyes as he smiled.

“I for one would love that.” He teased as he brought down the vale and looped an arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah I bet you would.” You mumbled, pushing his arm off your shoulder.

“Aw don’t be like that!” He whined as he followed after you, while he had opted for changing the mood of the conversation he was sure not done with it and he was going to look for a way to help you, no one should be chained to a curse that powerful and that destructive.

Megumi Fushiguro

🐺 You were snarky from the day that you were born, if people said right you turned left (unless you stood gain significantly from listening to them).

🐺 There was a reason for that though, when you were a kid you called him your imaginary friend, he always told you what to do and protected you from danger, he made sure that all the strange creatures around you couldn’t hurt you.

🐺 When you turned 13 years old he disappeared, as most imaginary friends did so you assumed that was it, you never really thought about him again, though you missed the safety that you felt when you were with him.

🐺 So you decided to become the best at anything that you did and most of the time you succeeded.

🐺 You were however very aggressive with people who crossed you, they started the fight and you finished it, no matter what it was about or how they presented their argument.

🐺 When you met Megumi you were the only first year students in Jujutsu Tech, so you guys became closer than most people because you were the only ones in your class.

🐺 You trained together, you went on missions together and his demon dogs seemed to like you so he trusted you a little more.

🐺 Megumi had seen the way that you seemed to enjoy yourself when you killed the cursed spirits on missions and honestly wished that he could face any challenge the way that you did.

🐺 You were never fazed by the people, environment or curse you were facing. You showed up, you made a plan and you won no matter what.

🐺 Megs was the only person that you talked to and so by nature you became closer than friends, no one talked to your guys so no one questioned it but they were thankful when Megumi would pull you away from a fight before it actually started.

You and Megumi had been looking for a special grade cursed object per Gojo’s request and you had both managed to find that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, it was easy to find the family that was supposed to have had it, you guys split up to find a member of the family, you went to the house, while Megumi went to the hospital, when you got there, there was no one at home but there was a residual from the object that you were looking for, it was in the house recently.

You followed the energy back to the school, after jumping the fence you followed the energy to a classroom “What do you think you're doing?” You asked the two school kids that had unwrapped the finger.

“Behind you!” The girl pointed and you reached behind you your hand easily pushing through the curses chest killing it, you flicked the purple blood off of your hands as you turned back to them, your eyes immediately realizing that the two students were gone.

“God damn it… Well they're dead.” You mumbled to yourself as you pulled out your phone, Megumi was calling you.

“Where are you?” He asked.

“I’m at the school, they already unwrapped the seal, I don’t know where the finger is but there are already curses here.” You muttered, you turned around the corner and came face to face with one of the curses running around “aren’t you pretty? Megs I’ve got to go, I'll see you in a minute.”

“You have to find the kids that were there, we have to make sure that they are okay.” He ordered.

“That’s really not my forte.” You reminded him dodging out of the way of the attack.

“But you can do it.” Megumi reminded you and you sighed.

“I’ll try.” You hung up the phone and easily killed the curse in front of you before running out of the classroom “where did you go?” The amount of curses in the area drown out any human signatures you would usually be able to “God damn it!” In your hurry to find them you didn’t realize the hand that flung out and smacked you in the face. You flicked your hand and sliced the thing in half before side stepping his falling body. “Got ya!” You came face to face with the curse spirit that had taken the girl and groaned, there was no way to kill it without hurting the girl, at least not with your ability.

“There you are!” You heard Megumi approaching, the dogs came to stand next to you before he did.

“I can’t kill it without hurting her.” You informed him and he gritted his teeth and nodded but before either of you could think of a plan the window shattered and a boy came flying through it, he made quick work of getting the girl away from it and you killed it the first chance that you got before Megumi gave the dogs to go ahead to eat what was left of it. “Who’s that?” 

“His name Itadori.” He answered as he walked towards the classroom where you could hear the kid talking. “I would ask what you're doing here but good job.” You could feel something heading this way but you didn’t see it until it was too late, it happened so fast git grabbed Megumi and flung him out of the building “you need to go!” You jumped out of the hole created putting yourself between Megumi and the curse, you were about to put an end to it but the Itadori kid appeared out of nowhere to try and fight the curse. “You should probably go.” 

“You guys are in a lot of trouble!” He yelled as he was flung around.

“We really wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to try and keep you alive while killing that thing!” You yelled as you slashed at the lower art of his stomach.

“Don’t worry I’ve got this!” Itadori yelled, lifting the curse finger.

“Don’t do that!” You yelled but it was like he couldn’t hear you and before you could do anything else, you smacked across the bridge, you flung yourself back up on the bridge but you could feel that your shoulder was out of place, it was then that you realized that there was no curse instead your eyes fell on the body standing the railings.

“This wasn’t the body I expected.” He said and you turned to you with a smirk on his face. “It’s been a little while hasn’t it brat?”

“I must have hit my head real hard.” You mumbled, pressing your hand to your forehead and pulling it away to find that there was blood on it.

“You were supposed to be the ideal vessel.” He sighed “but this will have to do, can't change it now.” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He sighed and now as he stood over you, you felt threatened, the imaginary friend that had made you feel so protected when you were younger, only made you feel in danger now, you put some space between you and the man in front of you also putting your body between him and Megumi.

“Who is that?” Megumi asked, “does he know you?” 

“If I tell you, you’ll think that I’m insane.” You answered.

“I taught her everything that she knows, from the day that she was old enough to see me.” The man said. “All in preparation to be my vessel but it seems that even the best planning may hit some snags.” Before either of you could say anything Gojo appeared from there he took down Itadori and we all headed back to Jujutsu Tech.

Megumi found you in his room after he came back from a shower, he didn’t say anything at first, he just climbed into bed next to you, you didn’t move for a second before moving closer to him and burying your face in his chest. “Are you going to tell me what he was talking about?” Megumi asked.

“Well you remember how I told you that I was a weird kid because I had an imaginary friend until the age of 12?” You asked and he nodded “that was him.” 

“Ryomewn Sukuna? He was the imaginary friend you talked about?” Megumi asked.

“He looked different back then, I don’t know but now he’s annoying as hell and there’s a human to go with him.” You grumbled, he started running his fingers over you skin and drawing small patterns.

“Mmm. Do you see him at all now?” Megumi asked.

“No.” You answered as you looked around the room. “Look can we stop talking about this for now, let’s just get some rest, we both need it after all.” You didn’t think that you would find sleep easy but you didn’t want to talk anymore. Megumi watched you quietly. He didn't know much about curses manifesting as imaginary friends but he was sure that it wasn’t an impossibility given the power of a child's mind.

Neither of you were sure what was going on but Megumi was sure that you weren’t going to go through it on your own.

Request Here

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #toge inumaki #toge inumaki imagine #toge inumaki oneshot #yuji itadori #yuji itadori imagine #yuji itadori oneshot #satoru gojo #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo oneshot #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader

[mgg-81]

Tossed [K.JM]

(CREDITS TO THE OWNER OF THIS GIF)

A/N’s NOTE: I've been on a halt for many months now due to the busy life, applying jobs here and there. I've tried to write during my stop but motivations sometimes come and go and I couldn't even finish what I started. Hopefully, writing enthusiastically will come to me again. Dedicated to @cxsmicmyeon, who loves Junmyeon so much!

NOTE 2: The Chanyeol fanfic requested is on the way!

NOTE 3: This was supposed to be written with Lee Know of Stray Kids as the lead, but our bunny leader fits it more.

Genre: Small fluff, Small angst, Adventure, Fantasy Pirate!AU, Merman!AU

Ratings and Warnings: Be careful with swords y'all.

Characters: Kim Junmyeon X Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,715

Date of Publication: 17-06-2023

Junmyeon shouldn’t have thought of going up and seeking the presence of humans.

In spite of that, he had no choice.

Yet here he was, breathing heavily while being pinned down by two women with their swords, his neck feeling the sharpness that if he ever moves more, blood will be surely drawn out of his skin. His legs…no…he meant, tail, ever glistened in the noon sun, him gently flapping it from time to time as if he was reminding himself he needs water. More specifically, ocean water.

Junmyeon’s head was hung low and his arms were stuck on his sides. His pulse vibrated more the longer he was lying on the wooden surface. He could only make the shape of the boots of women coming here and there as his head was still down. But he could make out their voices.

“Captain!” he heard one say, with a tone that felt like the woman was willing to bend everything for their leader on the ship. He sensed the rest of the boots following the lead.

“Well, well, well, look at what we have here,” a heavier sound of boots came about and echoed along the wood. He knew already that the owner of those boots held a strong authority around. He watched it walk with a hint of confident mockery as if the pirates themselves have caught a hidden treasure.

Once the boots stopped in front of him, Junmyeon held his breath, which was followed by the sudden disappearance of the swords that were far away from his reach. He took a deep inhale, but it made his chest ache, for he was still longing to be one with the waters below, though Junmyeon stayed still rather than looking like a wailing fish or risk being sliced into tuna sushi.

It didn’t stop there.

Junmyeon’s senses were on high alert once he felt the figure of the heavier boots slowly kneeling as if they were about to pray. A slow but amused grunt came from their lips as they continued to kneel until Junmyeon was face to face with your regal features.

You are beautiful.

Dangerously beautiful.

From hearing his fellow merpeople, most stories of pirates were made of men. He would listen to rumors about ships full of nasty and smelly men; with big egos, violent attitudes, and always having the life of the party for rum. Men, who thought they could have it all. Men, who thought they could rule the seas. Men, who were nothing but traveling meaninglessly and seeking something that probably wasn’t even there in the first place.

Junmyeon had also heard that bringing a woman to a ship brings bad luck. However, with this certain large vessel, he was sure women aren’t bringers of bad luck.

This was different.

It was the other way around, at the moment his eyes looked at you. A woman. But the familiarity of your face sent chills down his spine.

You weren’t just a captain.

You are the commander of the highly revered and feared ship of all, The Exodus of the High Seas.

Junmyeon knew about the vessel and its crew. Myths and stories revolved so much around the notorious ship, never steering away from the mouths of every land and even creatures of the sea. More so, people were more curious about who runs the ship no man could ever attempt to sink or take advantage of. It was as if a veil would cover the ship and be hidden from the view of every person who would look at the white and gold-painted ship. While the ship was painted in merry colors, the insides were blood-stained, with treasures and victories no man could ever attain.

All because of your leadership. The notorious and legendary Y/N.

Yet Junmyeon couldn’t look away.

He was supposed to cower in fear, scream for help, and try to swerve his body toward the ocean, yet his face remained frozen upon you.

For a captain who brought many stories to tell among people, you look so young. Junmyeon seemed to look at you as if you were just around his age. Obsidian eyes that sparkled with mischief, milky skin that lies underneath a signature puffed white sleeve, and your hair…hair that flows like the waves of the ocean he was longing for.

While you were youthful, Junmyeon could look upon your eyes the weight of your life being in the seas and being on the run. More so, the little faint white scars that designed your arms and neck were visible to him, telling him of victories of you that came with a price. A pirate’s life isn’t all just adventures.

“What brings you here, merman?” you asked without hesitation. Junmyeon blinked. You were talking to him. No formal introductions, none whatsoever. Just straight to the point.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow. Junmyeon looked away from your eyes down to your left hand, fingers caressing the hilt of a sword attached to your waist. Silent or not, either way, he’d end up dead by your hands. He slowly raised his eyes back to yours and sensed you were out for the kill, body looking weary.

Junmyeon lifted himself slightly. “Curiosity got the best of me,” he answered.

You scoffed. “From what I’ve heard, folks of the sea don’t even try to come out just because they’re curious so,” you sheathed your sword out and aligned it with Junmyeon’s neck. “Try to mock me again.”

This time, Junmyeon felt the blade tear open a little on the side of his neck, drawing drops of blood. His eyes widened at your actions and glared at you as he tried to maneuver his head away from your sword.

“You know it’s bad to injure a merfolk,” he gritted his teeth.

You further pressed the sword. “I don’t care,” you sneered. “Try to fool me now. Drawing a merman’s blood won’t get in my way of knowing you’re lying.”

“Captain,” Junmyeon heard from behind you one of your comrades, hesitatingly moving forward and trying to stop you from further hurting him. “We shouldn’t—“

Unfortunately, you were on deaf ears. Junmyeon didn’t know which was more painful; the blade of your sword against his now bleeding neck or the lack of water he needed so much. While he struggled, he looked once more into your eyes; while your eyes were full of rage, there was a hidden hesitance Junmyeon could see. It wasn’t out of fear because you might injure him and be cursed, but because you might feel guilty upon taking his life, curious or not, Junmyeon could see you didn’t want to hurt him.

It was the right opportunity for him to bring about his request.

 “I’m here to find someone with a pure heart,” Junmyeon blurted, and that made your movements halt.

“A pure---what?” you frowned, reducing lightly the pressure of your sword against Junmyeon’s neck much to his relief.

“I’ve come to ask for help,” Junmyeon insisted. “I’ve encountered a lot of ships, met people, and tried to ask but to no avail.”

Junmyeon looked down and contemplated even revealing why he was searching for a human being with the purest of intentions. Surely in all of reality, every person has a bad and good side, but it’s on them whether they let good or evil prevail in their minds and hearts. Junmyeon knew you were a criminal on the run, but deep down, he knew.

He just knew.

He could not waste anymore.

“Something…was stolen...precious in the ocean that is one of the pillars of the waters,” Junmyeon explained as he was slowly feeling the dryness of the wooden floor and the sun. “That’s why…the oceans and the seas are always roaring and not letting any ship land to safety. Only a human…with a pure heart can be able to find what’s ours…and be brought back.”

“Why aren’t you the one bringing it back?” you placed your sword back on your belt and crossed your arms in a questioning manner.

Junmyeon was slowly starting to get aggravated. He was starting to feel the effects of being out of the water. His breathing became more and more ragged much to your alarm.

“A-A hum-man…stole it, a-a…human m-must b-bring…it back,” Junmyeon said with difficulty, his mind was slowly turning into mush as if a heavy anchor was pressed down on him. From his vision, you didn’t stop and waited if he would wither and die on the spot. You quickly rose and turned to face your crew, barking orders here and there like a madwoman.

Soon enough, Junmyeon felt hands carry his body. More voices echoed and rang around his ears and into his skull. He wanted to move, wanted to fight, but your crew’s grip on him was strong. Maybe you weren’t convinced enough that’s why he’s being carried right now to be tossed away in a land that would immediately kill him.

But alas, his expectations of you were wrong.

Water engulfed him and embraced him as if he and the liquid were one. Little bubbles rose on his fingers like little friends welcoming him. Soaking himself in the water, Junmyeon felt his strength going back. He’d soon realized he was brought up and laid down in a very large wooden tub enough to accumulate his size in the middle of the ship. Feeling a little of his worries go away, he rushed to the surface of the tub, to be met with your face once again.

“Here,” you said as something cold was pressed to Junmyeon’s neck, him slightly flinching from the texture.

“It’s an herb,” you added. “I…didn’t mean to injure you.”

Solace was shared between the two of you, not knowing what to say. The awkwardness was evident in your features after what you’d just done to him, and Junmyeon’s eyes softened.

“Trust me, you are,” he insisted.

Your head shot up. “What?”

“You’re a person with a pure heart,” Junmyeon clarified. “A person I’m looking for to bring back what was stolen.”

You let out a ‘tch’ before leaning your face closer to him, eyes now back to shooting daggers. “I’m a pirate…and I’m no saint.”

Junmyeon shook his head. “Trust me, you are,” he repeated.

He felt hope.

#exo #suho #exowritersnet #junmyeon #exo fanfic #exo imagines #exo x reader #exo scenarios #suho fluff #suho angst #suho merman #suho fic #suho fanfic #suho au #suho imagines #suho scenarios #junmyeon fic #junmyeon fanfic #junmyeon imagines #junmyeon scenarios #junmyeon x reader

[antishaman]

[ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart

The soft spring breeze brought along the ocassional pink petals that would dance around the faces of awestruck tourists stopping every few steps to take pictures of this or that, and stepped on by the uninterested locals who were busy to get to their time sensitive destinations.

Cherry blossom themed limited edition merchandise lined the clean glass of every storefront for blocks and blocks ahead. A fatherly priest walked just behind his two daughters who were eager to shop for the latest trending outfits, new themed hair accessories, and new lip oils. Neither Mimiko nor Nanako could wait another day or two - it's going to sell out right away! - and Suguru just couldn't say no. He carried their bags from store to store, and bought them lunch during their break from shopping.

That is where he saw him the first time. The first time in approximately four years actually.

Suguru turned his head on instinct to scan just down the street when he was waiting in line at a takoyaki stand. Who he saw made him blink and give a crooked grin. Striking blonde hair, sharp and structure jaw line; it was so easy to tell that that was his former colleague. He had put on more muscle, Suguru noticed, maybe grew taller, but that stern frown looked like it was years in the making. He looked like he was in a rush, but never pushing anyone out of his way. Looking down at his watch for the time, yet those dragging feet said they'd rather be anywhere else than where they were actually headed.

'You look like shit, Nanami.'

"Sir, your payment?"

His attention was on the old man who had such a warm smile that brightened up every wrinkle, and he pushed the colorful tray just a smidge closer so Suguru could pay for their lunch. Absolutely revolting. He wanted to throw up. Returning the smile, the priest fished out his money. "Of course," he hummed.

//

So, Nanami Kento was now a diligent salaryman.

Good for him.

Suguru was there to witness Nanami leaving the school, and sorcery behind, and he was there to feel the same pain and anguish that led him to leave. They didn't say much to each other during that time, but there wasn't any need when the slump on their shoulders and the hollow stare in their eyes said enough. Suguru knew that Nanami wouldn't heed him out if he tried to pitch his vision at him, but what he wasn't too sure about is if he was in contact with a particular godly being. Not that that would be an issue, Suguru just didn't want to deal with a potential headache.

He didn't go back to that area for another month. Around the same time, Suguru could only guess that it would've been Nanami's lunch hour. He spied the working man frequenting a sandwich shop, only ever taking it to go, and then heading back to his office. 'My, such a work-o-holic.'

He could be playing a dangerous game by going to this seemingly favored sandwich shop where they rotate daily specials just minutes before Nanami typically arrives, he could be an asshole for sitting at a booth that was in the blind spot for the customers walking in with his tuna sandwich and salad, but one thing Suguru definitely was was giddy in excitement. Was Nanami going to be stunned in shock? Would he be angry with Suguru for defiling the joint he goes to so often by his presence? Would he pop a vessel by how tight he'd be clenching his jaw? Oh, Suguru couldn't wait for these questions to be answered.

The chime of the doorbell rang, and right on time, Nanami walked in.

"Yo, Nanami!" Suguru sang in such a spirited and familiar tone, as if this was something expected, planned, between the both of them. "I recommend getting the tuna sandwich. It's quite plump."

@jikangairodo

#jikangairodo #(i was fighting demons so that i wouldn't get so distracted) #(and to finish this in one sitting) #(i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i had fun writing it!)

[whumpsday]

Lost at Sea #1

~ Whumpmas in July Day 3: Lost ~

Masterlist

content: tiny whump, mer caretaker(?), starvation, broken bones, begging, rescue, language barrier, pet whump

damn it’s been literally 3 months since i wrote something unrelated to my main series. this was originally gonna be a oneshot but i decided to make a miniseries so look forward to more at some point!!

-

Lyscla peered curiously at the human vessel.

Such things were usually a bountiful feast: humans were sizeable compared to most prey, with a unique taste. The closest she could describe it to was seal or sea-lion, but that was still a ways off. If one avoided their weaponry, one would eat well.

Humans were an intelligent kind, she knew. Some avoided hunting them due to this, the concept making them squeamish, but Lyscla knew better. A human vessel this far out to sea was not here to do anything but kill. It was simply the course of nature. She would not blame the humans for their hunts either, whether they killed suitable prey-fish or her own kind.

But this was not the typical human vessel. It could hardly even be called a vessel anymore, truly. More a ruin of what once was.

Usually, when she approached a pod of humans, they reacted with commotion, but there was none this time. Most of the humans lay lifeless in the water, many missing their tastiest bits: she was far from the first inhabitant of the ocean to happen upon the wreckage, though likely the first of her kind. Those that were left were bloated and decayed with expiration. Unappetizing.

Only one tiny human face stared up at her, eyes full of unbounded fear.

The sole living human was unwell; this was apparent. Some of its little bones bent in awkward directions, dried blood marked the rips in its false coat, and its skin was red with sun-burn.

It sat huddled in the corner of the largest intact piece of the vessel, shaking. Water shed from its eyes, a trait Lyscla knew to be unique to humans. A sign of distress.

The human said something, its voice small and hoarse, but she could not understand its tongue. Its trembling increased. Though she could not parse the words, it was not hard for Lyscla to recognize them for what they were: an expression of fear.

It was all skin-and-bones. It had been there for many days, judging by the state of its fallen pod. Were it not for the rainy season providing fresh-water, it would have surely joined them. Such a slight thing would not make for a good meal.

And even if it would... Lyscla found herself reluctant. There was no honor in this hunt, no barbed spears to dodge, no quick and darting fish to catch. Just a lost, starving human faced with certain doom.

I could save it.

The thought was senseless. She had never been one for such sentimentalities. She would blame it on an instinctive desire to care for a calf, were the season right for it. Being that it was not, she had no such excuse.

Yet, the desire remained. Lyscla recalled an old flame who kept dolphins as pets. It had started with an injured one, she’d said, that she felt compelled to nurse back to health. She had never understood at the time: why would one waste energy on that?

But looking at the terrified little thing, she understood now.

Pity.

She could take it back to her cave. Part of it came above the water, with soft sand for the injured human to rest its battered body. The human was barely bigger than a tuna; it wouldn’t require much to eat. She could easily catch some fish for it each day and bring it fresh-water.

Lyscla made up her mind. She would care for the human as a pet.

-

Digory couldn’t believe how shit his luck was.

First, the shipwreck. Wrecks weren’t that common, were they? He didn’t know too much about seafaring, hadn’t been a deckhand longer than a week. He was still in training, for God’s sake.

He’d supposed at the time that his luck wasn’t all bad. Among all the crew, only Digory had somehow survived due to his placement on the ship, though not without a number of injuries. And the fact that it had been raining enough for him to get water was nothing short of a miracle, though the rain left him shivering in the nights.

But all of that was meaningless now, because he was staring up at the most terrifying creature in the ocean: a mermaid.

She was gigantic, even bigger than he’d thought one would be, easily the size of a five-story building. The pictures didn’t do the sight justice. The small knife on his belt felt extraordinarily useless in the face of such a beast. It likely wouldn’t even pierce her scales.

It was unlikely anyone had gotten this close to a mermaid and lived. He sincerely fucking doubted that he would be the first.

Digory couldn’t help but cry. He’d been holding out hope that he would be found, even as the starvation made him feel like his insides were eating him alive, even as his injuries pained him with every movement. Now he was going to be eaten.

He wondered if it would hurt.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” Digory begged. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like the monster would be able to understand him.

The monster paused for a long moment, as if deep in thought. And then, to his utter horror, though he knew it was coming...

She reached for him.

Digory screamed. He tried to scramble backward, but his broken legs immediately reminded him of their state with a flash of sudden agony, making him suck in a sharp gasp.

The monster plucked him from the piece of hull. His legs jostled again as she moved him, earning another cry of pain. He lay in her enormous hand, shaking, as she raised him up further. He knew this was it. He was going to die.

But the monster did not stop him at her razor-sharp teeth as he’d expected. She continued raising him up to dizzying height, to the top of her head, where she placed him with surprising gentleness. He immediately grabbed onto her hair: he could not fall from here.

She swam, keeping the top of her head above water. As he became soaked with sea-spray, Digory realized what was happening: she wanted to take him home to eat.

At least he wouldn’t die near that stupid boat.

At long last, she stopped inside a cave. Digory flinched back as she took him from her head and placed him on the sand inside, crying out again at the aggravation of his injuries. The sand clung to his wet skin and clothes, but at least it was soft.

The monster brought up her other hand and dumped something at his feet.

Fish.

Three of them, each the size of his arm, flopping around on the sand. Digory didn’t know what kind, and he didn’t care. It was food.

He pulled the knife from his belt and dispatched one, not even properly preparing it before he dug in face-first. Digory had lost count of the days, but he knew it had been more than a week since he’d eaten. The raw fish was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

The monster watched him, head tilted to the side.

Digory shuddered under her gaze. He didn’t know why she hadn’t killed him yet, but he was glad he was able to feel full one more time.

-

(edit: digory is normal human sized, lyscla is about 60 feet tall. tuna are bigger than u think lol. my bad)

here’s some picrews of our new caretaker(?) & whumpee! (picrew used)

gonna put the banner at the bottom for writing-based WIJ days! this prompt really inspired me.

@whumpmasinjuly​

taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps​

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​

#wij2022 #whumpmasinjuly #whump #my writing #tiny whump #g/t #starvation #broken bones #begging #rescue #language barrier #pet whump #mer caretaker #monster caretaker #nonhuman caretaker #lost at sea #whump writing

[blueiskewl]

6,000-Year-Old Copper Fishhook Discovered in Israel

The hook, most likely used for catch sharks or other large marine animals, will be exhibited on April 3 at the 48th Archaeological Congress.

A 6,000-year-old copper fishhook—one of the oldest ever found—was discovered in 2018 during excavations prior to the construction of the new Agamim neighborhood in Ashkelon, the Israel Antiquity Authority (IAA) revealed on Wednesday.

The hook, most likely used to catch sharks or other large marine animals, will be exhibited on April 3 at the 48th Archaeological Congress.

“This unique find is 6.5 cm long and 4 cm wide, its large dimensions making it suitable for hunting 2–3 m long sharks or large tuna fish. More ancient fishhooks found previously were made of bone and were much smaller than this one,” said the IAA’s Yael Abadi-Reiss, co-director of the excavation.

“The use of copper began in the Chalcolithic period, and it is fascinating to discover that this technological innovation was applied in antiquity for the production of fishhooks for fishermen along the Mediterranean coast,” she added.

In the Chalcolithic period there were large villages around Ashkelon, whose economies were based on agricultural practices still common today, such as the pasturing of sheep, goat and cattle, the cultivation of wheat, barley and legumes and the tending of fruit orchards.

“We learn about the dietary habits of the people who lived here 6,000 years ago from the remains of animal bones found in ancient rubbish pits, from burnt wheat grains found in ovens, and from the hunting, cooking and food-processing tools retrieved, including flint sickles, and a variety of pottery vessels that served for the storage, cooking and the conservation of food by fermentation and salting,” said Abadi-Reiss.

“The rare fishhook tells the story of the village fishermen who sailed out to sea in their boats and cast the newly invented copper fishhook into the water, hoping to add coastal sharks to the menu,” she added.

#6000-Year-Old Copper Fishhook Discovered in Israel #Ashkelon #copper #archeology #archeolgst #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient israel

[kindersurprisebacterium]

To the Surface (Keigo Takami/Reader)

Explicit MDNI

w/c: 2.4k

Gender neutral AFAB reader

Claustrophobic. The feeling rose in my chest as thick netting wrapped my body. My limbs became tangled within the mass of fibers. The water began to swirl around me as the net slowly receded from the water. I emerged from the depths, panic wracking my brain as my body, as well as a cluster of fish, were taken aboard a small fishing vessel. I was dropped onto the deck, saturated wood cushioning my fall. A pair of hands quickly worked to untie the netting, setting me free from my confines. 

“I apologize. I didn’t see you swimming.” A man spoke. As my vision focused, my eyes met a pair of aureate pools of honey and a head of messy blonde hair tucked under a toboggan. “I’ll grab you a quilt,” he spoke, rushing off to a cabin. As I waited for his return, I scanned the deck in front of me. The hatch to the hull was open and the pungent scent of fish caught my attention. An assortment of mackerel and anchovies were contained within ice boxes near the bow. 

“What were you doing so far away from shore?” He asked, handing me a pelt of fur. I extended my hand to grab it. He suddenly pulled back, eyes fixated on my fingers. I followed his gaze, settling onto the webbing between my fingers. I quickly curled my fingers into a fist, bringing my hand close to my chest. 

“I’m sorry, I would really like to cover up, could I have that pelt?” I asked, scanning his face for any trace of a response. His lips were parted, eyebrows raised, and eyes furiously flicked across my body. Without a word, he handed me the pelt. I wrapped the fur around my bare body, tucking my limbs into its warm expanse. 

“You’re not human, are you?” He took a step back, eyes still shifting over my body. 

“Please don’t harm me,” I pushed my heels into the deck, moving my body back against the taffrail. He kneeled in front of me, taking hold of my hand. His fingers traced along the webbing between my fingers and trailed up toward my ulnar fin. He pulled the cartilage back, fanning the fin out to its full extent. Then his hands were on my head, moving my head to the side and exposing my gills. And then to my calves, running his fingers along my fins and up to my knees. His hands parted my knees, eyes focused on what lay between my legs. I swiftly pushed his hands away and tucked my body back under the pelt. 

“I’d appreciate some decency.” I huffed. 

“What exactly are you?” He asked, sitting back and crossing his legs. 

“I don’t know the name of my species, and I haven’t quite cared to ask.”

“Can you live on land?”

“I’ve got lungs similar to those of humans, and I have taken up residence on land before, so yes.”

His eyes shifted around the boat, lips pursing and eyebrows furrowing. He sighed, fingers tapping away on his knee. 

“I’ve had some troubles lately finding fish, if you can help me find waters with larger populations, I’ll give you free food and a bed to sleep in.”

I grinned, nodding my head.

I resurfaced near the hull of the boat and grabbed onto the rigging, pulling my body out of the water. 

“They’re moving south!” I shouted from the taffrail. “Follow me!” I let go of the rail, dropping back into the water. I stayed close to the surface, making sure he could follow my wake. I held my legs together and used the motion of my hips to drift through the waves. I watched as the sails began to tilt, and the bow began turning in my direction. I dove under the water to trail the school of yellowfin tuna. Far enough to not frighten them, and yet close enough to keep an eye on their movements. They were still a hundred meters out and swimming with leisure. The ship began to catch up to them, traveling faster than they could swim. At thirty meters I surfaced, grabbing onto the rigging and signaling for Keigo to throw the net. The black fibers disappeared beneath the surface. I followed along with it, watching as the school became trapped within the net. Only a few stragglers had managed to escape the grips, swimming away to safety in an erratic manner. I hoisted myself up onto the boat, grabbing the deer pelt to cover my body. The net slowly rose from the ocean, revealing the haul of tuna it had contained within its grasp. Keigo shouted, a beaming grin upon his face. 

“Holy shit! I’ve never hauled in this many fish at once!” He remarked as he took down the netting. The fish began spewing out of the confines and spreading out across the deck. I lifted one of the fish, carrying it toward the ice chests. 

“Mishima is pretty close by, we could sell those fish while they’re still fresh. We’re going to need the space for more.” I said, dragging another fish onto the crushed ice. 

“I’ve got an entire hull full of storage, let’s keep going.” He placed his hand on my shoulder.

“I want you to anchor so I can show you how to track fish.” 

He skimmed the surface, snorkel sticking out of the water. I swam down deeper into the water, near a passing school of red sea bream. I gestured toward the school as they moved closer to the coast. His hand signaled me to the surface. I broke through the tension of the water just in front of Keigo. 

“I can’t see anything.” He said, spitting out his mouthpiece.

“Take the snorkel off and come down further. I promise you’ll see. You can hold your breath, right?” I asked. He sighed, undoing the fastenings of the snorkel. He tossed the equipment behind him. With a thud, it disappeared behind the railing. I took his hand, watching as he took a breath. I pulled him under the water with me, dragging him behind me as I swam after the cluster of bream. I pointed to a nearby rock, and back to the bream. A hand tapped my shoulder. He pointed a finger up at the surface, and then to his mouth. I pulled him closer, pressing my lips to him and cycling oxygen through my gills, I exhaled a breath full into his mouth. I pulled back, looking at his face. Golden eyes met mine, still glistening as bright as glitter even beneath the goggles. I pulled him further, pointing to another rock, and back to the fish, and holding up my fingers. Counting up from five. Once it reached five, I gestured back to another structure, and then to the surface. I pulled him along behind me as we reached the top. He gasped, intaking fresh air. 

“You count for time and use nearby markers to guess the distance, that’s how you can find how fast they’re going,” I explained as we paddled back to the boat. “You can use that to guess how far ahead to throw the net, that way they’re in the net by the time they approach it.” I grabbed onto the rigging, looking behind me to watch as he approached the boat. His hand cupped my cheek, lips diving in to meet mine. I kissed back, my arm wrapping around the back of his neck. He pulled back, eyes skimming my face.

“How about we stop for the day? I’m getting hungry anyways.”

“Sharks aren’t that threatening of an encounter. Most of their bites are exploratory. If anything does happen I can usually outpace them.” I explained. He set down a plate in front of me. Freshly cooked salmon with a side of potatoes.

“As promised, here’s your portion.”

The plate smelled absolutely delectable. Fresh hints of oregano and thyme pricked my senses. 

“I didn’t expect you to cook for me, Keigo,” I said, staring down at the dish in front of me. “It’s been quite some time since my last cooked meal.”

“Well, what else would you eat?” He shrugged.

“I usually just eat raw food, but thank you for treating me like a human.” I smiled. 

Sleep was something that didn’t come to me. I spent the night shivering in the top bunk. I could feel my pulse start to slow to a crawl, limbs going still as my body froze. As a desperate attempt for warmth, I crawled from the top bunk, fingers barely managing to grip the rungs of the ladder as I lowered myself to the floor. I reached a hand out toward Keigo, not sure of how to wake him. With a finger I tapped his shoulder, causing him to stir from his slumber. 

“I apologize for this, but I’m freezing, can I by chance share your bed?” I asked. My limbs were quivering, trembling from the ice running through my veins.

“You must be cold-blooded then, I should’ve assumed.” He spoke with a sleep-laced voice. He pulled aside the cover, making room for me. I crawled into bed, curling up beside him. His arm curled around my waist, pulling my back into his chest. 

“You’re freezing,” he muttered as he grabbed a pelt from the foot of the bed. He placed the extra layer on top of me. His hands moved underneath the blanket, trailing over my arm and down to my hand. He held my hand in his, squeezing tight in an attempt to heat up my fingers. I laced my fingers with his, intertwining them as much as the webbing between each digit would allow.

“Can I Kiss you?” He asked from behind me. I shifted in his arms to face him. He touched my cheek and slowly leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I kissed back, slowly moving my lips against his. His hand began to inch down my body, skimming across my gills and down to my shoulders. His touch dropped to my waist, fingers clutching onto the hem of the shirt he’d given me. I grabbed his wrist, moving his hands to the waistband of the union suit covering my hips. His fingers slipped below the fabric, skimming across my skin. His index parted my lips, sliding between them to stroke at my clit. A warmth spread across my body as he rubbed tight circles on my skin. My lips broke from his, a thin trail of saliva forming as I moaned. He moved to my neck, tongue darting out to lick across my gills. Shocks of pleasure wracked my body. My hips bucked against his hand as the stimulation turned my body into a quivering mess. The fingers on my clit moved down my cunt, circling around my entrance before pushing in. He groaned as he started up a quick pace, fingertips curling upwards. His thumb circled around my aching clit, adding more, burning tension to my quaking body. His licks turned to harsh sucks as he moved further down to my collarbone, peppering bruises across my sage-tinted skin. 

“Are you warm enough, yet?” He asked, lips pressed against my clavicle. 

“I’m close, so close,” I mewled between desperate pleas. He withdrew his fingers from me, focusing on tracing tight circles over my clit. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure enveloped my body, pulling my limbs tight. A cry bellowed from my chest, rocking the room as I came. My body went slack, my chest heaving as I pulled air into my lungs. I pushed the boxers down my legs, kicking them off of my feet. Swinging my leg over his hips, I situated myself on top of him, core brushing against his stiff cock. 

“You act as if you’ve done this before,” he said, biting down on his lip. 

“The best part about being a different species is that it never takes, why wouldn’t I enjoy the perks of that.”

I tugged on the waist of his long johns, pulling the fabric down his hips, just far enough to let his cock slip from the material. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft, holding it still as I aligned myself. I slowly sank down, feeling a dull burning as he stretched out my insides. I sharply exhaled, thighs shivering as the head of his cock brushed against my cervix. His hands gripped my hips, lifting me back up and guiding me down at a quick pace. I gripped the headboard, using it as leverage to follow the pace he’d set. His jaw hung slack, noises escaping from his throat with every thrust against his hips. My eyes squeezed shut as the head of his cock pushed against a spot within me. Pinging, throbbing lust boiled within my depths as I fucked myself on his cock, tilting my hips back to drive into that pulse point inside of me. My hands fell from the headboard, my torso falling into his as my strength evaporated, leaving a heated puddle of a fish in his arms. His knees rose from behind me, hips taking up the brunt of the movement. His nails dug into the skin of my thighs, holding me still as he pistoned his hips into me, reaching further than I had before. Stimulation overwhelmed my body, static and haze taking the place of thoughts in my brain. Saliva pooled in the corners of my mouth, making a mess of his shirt and seemingly driving him further into longing. 

“I’m gonna-“ his speech was cut off by a growl, hips stuttering as he spilled his seed inside of me. My vision clouded, eyes going cross as I came, cunt clenching around him, milking him dry. His hips twitched, fucking the mess of fluids deeper inside me, and then stillness. I lay on his chest, relishing the feeling of fullness between my legs. As my mind cleared of fog, I couldn’t help but notice the warmth covering my body, a stark contrast to the frost that bathed my skin a mere half hour ago. I pressed my lips to his cheek, lips curling into a smile as my face settled into the crook of his neck. Besides the warmth, a new sensation arose within me, fluttering around in my chest. A sense of comfort and peace. He pulled the scattered blankets back over our partially-clothed bodies, tucking in for a warm rest.

#ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #fanfic #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x y/n