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ckret2 · 2 days ago

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Can you give us more Scaramouche/Aku content please? I crave this ship/their dynamic

With pleasure! have a bunch of headcanons

I'm currently working on a fic so I'm (mostly) trying to avoid headcanons that'd spoil parts of that fic. most of these are ideas I've left in comments or DMs but haven't put in an actual post, so the topics are all over the place.

this is one of those "this got so long that i'm unironically giving it a table of contents so i remember what's in it" posts.

a note on chronology

aku's (baselessly) worried jack could use scaramouche against him

once that's not a concern, EVERYONE'S gotta watch the wedding.

if aku's in love he's insufferable about showing off his beloved.

and insufferable about showing off for him.

scaramouche is the only bot in his line with a crush on the boss

his line was custom designed to meet aku's aesthetic tastes

scaramouche at karaoke night

scaramouche & his aku tattoos engravings

no matter who asks for the first date, it goes badly

aku's big on gift giving. like, 💰💰💰💸💳💎💍👑🔑

lot of people go "aku had a robot boyfriend built for him?? cringe"

don't use cute pet names on aku, it might kill him

"trading assassinations for dinner dates" romcom

1. some of these headcanons are pre-relationship, some are during a relationship. whenever I mentally insert scaraku into canon I never interpret it as "Aku & Scaramouche are having a relationship off-screen we just don't see." Instead, my interpretation is "Scaramouche has a decades-long crush on Aku; Aku would reciprocate if he knew, but he doesn't, and so it's never occurred to him that romance with a robot is even an option."

So any headcanons about them together as a couple aren't set in the canon timeline, but some alternate timeline where they get together (and obviously aku didn't blow up scaramouche's head.)

2. Aku's never struck me as bashful or self-conscious about his desires. If he wants something, it's everybody's business. he's telling the whole planet and if he isn't handed what he wants in five minutes he's stealing it. I imagine he'd be the same way about romance.

With one exception: when Jack's around. If Jack were to fall in love, Aku wouldn't hesitate for a second to use Jack's love interest against him (even, as it turns out, if that love interest is Aku's own flesh and blood), so he sort of assumes Jack would do the same to him. Even though Jack's a good guy. Like that would probably be one of those "for the greater good" things Aku's heard about.

Love is a weak spot. If Jack stabs Scaramouche through the chest, it'll be Aku's heart that feels it. (like, metaphorically—but I guess also literally since Scaramouche is powered with Aku essence? but we're talking about the metaphor right now.) I doubt Aku's been in love or whatever-close-approximation-passes-as-love-for-him very often, if ever before. He's not used to having a vulnerability like that. This little robot is a piece of Aku's heart that's much MUCH easier to kill than the rest of Aku is.

So as long as a guy eager and able to kill Aku is running around, Aku won't want the world to learn about this new weakness. Any relationship is top secret and Scaramouche isn't allowed to get anywhere near Jack.

3. But the second Jack's no longer a threat—OR if Jack somehow finds out about them so there's no point keeping it a secret—every TV channel on the planet is interrupted with a broadcast from Aku going "what's up bitches i'm getting married and you have to watch it or die" (he probably doesn't say it like that.)

if "Jack's no longer a threat" overlaps with "Jack's still alive" for some reason (truce? lost his sword again??), Aku's making a big deal out of inviting his daughter to the wedding and mentioning in the invitation that she can bring a +1. like, oh of course I'M not inviting the samurai, but I care about him so little that i'm not even telling you you can't bring him. that's how unimportant he is. double insult.

the wedding thing's a half joke. but like if it happened it'd go like that.

4. When Aku's got nothing to fear, he'd be SO annoying about being in a relationship. Only the greatest specialest little robot in the world could possibly have won the almighty Aku's attention, much less affection, and that means Scaramouche is the best and Aku's gonna show him off; disrespect this robot and you are disrespecting Aku (he will kill you). This is his Yoko Ono, his George Viliers. Half the world's gonna grow to really hate Scaramouche.

Scaramouche isn't bothered by this. They just hate him because he snagged the ruler of the world. Suck his hypothetical penis.

5. having a romantic relationship would just make aku even more over-the-top. Being in the same room as someone he feels loved by would puff up his ego like a helium balloon. Usually he has to keep that ego inflated by himself! Getting regular tributes from enslaved subjects can only do so much for him when he KNOWS they're only doing it on his orders; having just one person he genuinely likes who thinks the WORLD of him—not because he forced them to—would do more for him than a hundred dumb monuments in the ocean.

Scaramouche walks in and immediately smiles when he sees him and Aku knows he means it and instantly gets a little giddy, and now he's like I've gotta show off. kills the next person who walks into the room.

6. I've mentioned that I headcanon Scaramouche is just one unit in a line of robots designed & programmed similarly to him: same basic body, same initial skillset, same emotion programming—which means same preprogrammed loyalty to Aku.

Yet Scaramouche is the only one who developed a crush on the boss.

The rest of them are like "yeah of course i'm loyal to the boss to the end, but if the samurai ever actually kills him, either i'll keep working for whoever replaces him or go find some other job. i probably wouldn't even be sad about it." and meanwhile scaramouche is like "if the samurai ever kills the boss i'm just gonna kill myself too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ no, wait. if the samurai kills the boss, I'M gonna have to go find a time portal so i can go back and stop HIM—" and the rest are like "what's wrong with you."

every once in a while he'll have a conversation with the other robo-assassins that ends with something like "what do you MEAN the rest of you don't think Aku's handsome?!?!" "WHAT'S HANDSOME ABOUT HIM??" "if he's not the standard by which you judge all other beauty, then i don't know how to explain it to you."

They're all painfully aware of Scaramouche's crush. They have all let him know they think he's an idiot. Somebody dropped a poll in the robo-assassin group chat, "DO YOU THINK AKU LIKE-LIKES SCARAMOUCHE?" 1 vote yes 11 votes no. The yes vote is a lie based on hope.

7. when Scaramouche's line was being built, the scientists told Aku that these were gonna be some super advanced robots—they've got programming for emotions and evolving personalities so they can continue to develop after they're built, they're designed to be able to survive with like 99% of their bodies blown up so that they can be rebuilt with their memories intact, these are the assassin bots of the future, these things will be usable for centuries if not longer.

And Aku went "well if i've gotta stare at these things for that long, then I at least want to like looking at them." so he told the scientists how he wanted them to look.

Which means that, without realizing it, Aku had these bots custom-designed to be particularly handsome according to his personal aesthetic standards. which shouldn't have been an issue, it's not the first time he's told his scientists "if I'm gonna be using these things then I want to like how they look," that's how he ended up with an army of beetles. except then one of these very pretty bots started hitting on him.

8. aku's in an interesting position where he basically defines "mainstream" culture—he's this world's government and god and has been for millennia, HE'S the one broadcasting propaganda, HE gets to decide what's on the airwaves; but at the same time he's also kind of the counterculture because, like… nobody wants this. nobody likes him being in charge. but in either case he's at the center of global culture. culture is defined by its orbit of him.

so people write songs about him, or songs using him as a metaphor for something else, as one does about major cultural figures. and songs about him might be:

part of mainstream culture: you know those christian rock songs that sing about jesus in a way that kind of makes you go "is the singer in love with jesus orrr—?" those, except about aku

part of the counterculture: you know how christian songs sing about the devil? those, except about aku. he considers songs about him being evil fine, but songs about casting him out/rejecting him/getting rid of him/him being defeated by some higher purer power are Not Approved, you're risking some trouble playing songs like that. but they're still written.

part of the counter-counterculture: you know how like tongue-in-cheek satanic metal bands sing about the devil? "he's awful he's terrible he's the worst yay yahoo hurray we love him"? those, except about aku. they basically loop back around to being mainstream in spite of somehow also being opposite of the mainstream songs.

"what's this got to do with scaraku?" never go to karaoke night with scaramouche because all you're getting is songs from category 1 and category 3.

9. Scaramouche has at least one engraving on his body dedicated to Aku. He possibly gets more. He's got like, you know those full sleeve tats that look like an oni or a dragon or whatever? Gets an engraving like that but it's of Aku.

To whoever does Scaramouche's engravings, he probably comes across as like,, one of those unhinged ultra-patriotic nationalists who gets a bunch of tattoos of the cult of personality dictator. Okay, creepo, as long as you're paying for them

tattoo artist doesn't find out Scaramouche is anything other than a crazy patriot until the day he comes in beaming looking like somebody used a jackhammer to carve the word "AKU" in his chest and asks for it to be filled in with gold. "It's kinda sloppy, you sure you don't want it cleaned up?" "Nope!" "Where'd you get this one done?" "Autograph from the boss himself!" "What." surely this robot means LITERALLY an autograph. Like at a meet and greet or something.

on some other engraving, "Okay, do you want the face filled in with gold like the other engravings, or do you want enamel so I can get it red and green?" "Uhhh�� hold on." Pulls out his phone "hey Aku baby!!! Do you want your face in gold or enamel?" "Dude what the fuck, do you have his number?" They're like half a dozen engravings deep before the artist is like wait what do you mean you actually know him. What do you mean you're in love with him. Not sure if that's better or worse than the crazy patriot thing.

10. if Aku's the first one to ask for a date he's gonna unintentionally scare the shit out of Scaramouche. internal monologue: "should i ask him if he's free tomorrow? wait. why would i ask. i'm the one who gives him his jobs, i should know if he's free. i can make him free."

Scaramouche, talking to the robo-assassin group chat: "babes i think i fucked up :(" shares a screenshot with the group chat of a text from Aku that says "I'm canceling your next job. Report to my audience chamber tomorrow."

there are characters who are careful about navigating the nuances of a relationship with a significant power imbalance, and aku is not one of them. (Whatever Aku loves is HIS, and he'll take good care of them, treasure them, give them anything they want—but they don't get a say in the matter. If Aku's in love, the beloved doesn't get the option to say no.)

It's better for everyone if Scaramouche makes the first move—but he's been trying to make the first move for like the past twenty years and the hints fly straight past Aku. He's invited Aku to like five different public executions and every time Aku's turned him down thinking "well he just mentioned he was going to the execution and asked if I wanted to go too, only a fool would talk about their weekend plans in front of the lord and master of all and then exclude him, he only invited me to be polite."

11. Aku's INCREDIBLY grandiose with affectionate favors & gifts. he owns everything, he can do that.

like,, he approaches scaramouche like "hey i do a lot of business in this big city, i should get a permanent place to stay when i visit, you spend a lot of time in that city right? do my househunting for me, let me know which places you think are best. the budget is five million bucks—minimum." and after scaramouche gushes about a few places aku gets one and goes "ok here's the key." "wait, didn't you get this place so YOU'D have somewhere to stay?" "i did. this place has seven damn bedrooms, i'm sure you can keep one set aside as a guest room for me."

Scaramouche doesn't even want expensive stuff. expensive stuff is nice, but that's not what he's here for, he just wants aku. now he gets aku AND expensive stuff. he's the luckiest robot in the world.

he tries to return the favor, but unlike aku he's on a budget. he's not above stealing gifts, though. most common gifts he brings are jewels of various kinds—bonus if they're magical. the boss likes pretty enchanted rocks, and what the boss wants, he gets.

12. there are definitely some people who see Aku, who is the most single a person has ever been, get together with a robot, and assume "that guy's so lonely and so unpopular that he got some kind of sex bot built & programmed to be his boyfriend so he can pretend he's loved."

if Scaramouche overhears any claims like that, his response is generally "do you wanna see just what i was built & programmed to do?" 🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Aku's #1 assassin" isn't a SUPER well-known celebrity position—but it's well-known enough for a lot of people to instantly reverse their position on aku's new toy when they hear his name. oh you mean THAT scaramouche? scaramouche the merciless?? ohhh.

13. Aku is not designed to accept affectionate statements and terms of endearment. ZERO defenses against it. throwing a pet name at aku is like unleashing an invasive species on a delicate ecosystem: that thing does NOT belong here and it's gonna demolish everything in its path. aku has no antibodies for this virus. a single cutesy nickname can KO him for an hour.

Scaramouche calls him "hot stuff" and his entire face catches on fire and that's how Scaramouche learns what Aku's version of a blush looks like.

the latent leftover code from X-49 buried deep in Scaramouche's programming surfaces and he unthinkingly calls aku "sweet thing," and aku excuses himself from his audience chamber to melt in a puddle in his bed and stare at the ceiling. what is this nonsense. he is not a thing that is sweet. it's absurd. he's not thinking about anything else for the rest of the afternoon.

scaramouche is convinced he just keeps accidentally insulting aku.

14. In the IDW comics, in one issue there's a running gag about Aku upgrading Jack's bounty to "20 googolplex and a dinner date with Aku." in the depths of my DMs there's a serial killer romcom fic I'm never gonna write where Aku offers a dinner date as part of the bounty for various high-level targets, with the tacit understanding that what this means is more like "you get aku's attention for an hour to attempt to network with him or plead for your family's safety or whatever you want. and you get dinner out of it."

except scaramouche manages to take out one of these targets, goes on one dinner date, INSTANTLY falls in love even though aku did absolutely nothing to try to impress him, and starts knocking out one name on Aku's Most Wanted list after another to rack up these dinner dates.

the second time it happens aku goes "this bot again?" the fifth or sixth time it happens aku goes "this bot AGAIN???????" after the thirtieth time it happens he's going "it's been three weeks since scaramouche took out a target with a dinner date attached, what's taking him so long??"

after like the 10th date scaramouche is telling everyone he knows "yeah aku and i are definitely officially a couple" and simultaneously aku's thinking "i wonder if scaramouche would be interested in making things official. ... no, of course not, if he was interested he wouldn't only ask me out when he's collecting a bounty."

scaramouche's pals are trying to convince him that if he and aku were an item, aku wouldn't require him to kill somebody every time they go out—"he's a busy guy, that's just his excuse to make time for me!"—and meanwhile aku's sitting on his throne staring at his phone trying to telepathically command scaramouche to call him.

this idea is more silly than anything else. the idea of Aku, Shogun of Sorrow, Master of Masters waiting for a call from his kind-of-unofficial-boyfriend like a lovesick teen just amuses the hell out of me.

#emmel opatia #ask #samurai jack #scaraku #aku #scaramouche #scaramouche samurai jack #headcanons

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sakumz · 1 day ago

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Hello there! May I have a cinnamon roll with vanilla latte for Nagumo? >_<

a/n : -

____________________________________________

[ n. yoichi x reader]

____________________________________________

nagumo couldn't believe his eyes, ever since he met sakamoto again due to the bounty on his head... he finally found you!

" y/n! " he cried, jumping onto your back and tackling you into a hug, knocking the wind out of you.

" get-get off me! I'm grocery shopping! " slapping his back, he only laughs.

" nuh uh, you left the order, can't let you go. "

" well that's because I don't agree with their sense of justice and besides you've got no room to talk me back into joining, your actions are either good or evil. "

he finally lets go, staring into your soul before he lets his signature grin shows.

it was true, his actions were either good or bad. you leaving was something he expected. you always believe in your justice, if you didn't like it, you'd move out quickly.

" well you were always serious about everything, " he pats your head from the floor, getting up and leaving before he could continue his small talks.

by continuing it'd only make him miss you more. you were always some sort of ground that roots him and his chaotic actions or self.

during one mission with sakamoto when he mindlessly walks into an all out cross fire and you were the one who quickly drags him down behind some knock down table, aiming your gun perfectly at the enemies, all dead with a head shot. he swoons. whern the trio met up with the enemy's boss, you wasted no time in slicing his neck before any of them could react. you were so direct and precise with your kills. he would've taken it slow and get the enemy to spill every last secret till their dying breath for fun, if he felt like it.

during jaa time, you don't even sway to any of his sweet words and flirts, never once backing down when you made a decision and he tries to change it. people say you weren't into him but he'd like to think otherwise, maybe there's a small part of the serious, stoic and cool person he could crack in the long run.

despite it being the first in a long long time that he's seen you, it'd be another long long time before he meets you again. this time as a fugitive. you laugh when he appears by your door, looking dumb as always.

" they try to get me back in the order, " you start, pouring hot water into the ramen cup for him, he watches from the table as you move around.

" oki? "

" yeah, he said if I didn't join I might as well become one of you, " handing him the cup and his chopsticks, he nearly dropped it from the news.

" but you weren't even in the museum, hell you didn't even do anything! "

" he assumes I'm working with you. " your voice remains calm and neutral, he's starting to get frustrated.

" maybe I should go kill him. "

" it's not worth the energy, besides then the rest of order will come for you, you should go into hiding for a bit. I'm sure there's still a part for you to play when sakamoto and friends, really need your help or you could find some more secret members to join them. "

" secret members? "

" yeah like yotsumura. "

he chokes upon hearing the name.

" how did you know I kept him alive? "

" I've been talking to shishiba, he told me everything. "

he slams his head against the table, the way your voice just remains nonchalant about everything. does that mean when you were out of the game, you were still talking to an order member that wasn't nagumo yoichi?

" do you not care about me? " he mumbles, head still on the table.

" I do care about you, I just know you won't give me something serious, like shishiba he's straight to the point. you'll definitely try and take me out when I'm trying to hide from the order and then all my efforts to leave and live a peaceful life goes down the drain. "

he hums in thought at your answer. sure he may not be the best at keeping all the secrets of the world but a small part of him hurts, knowing you don't trust him because of his playful and too much personality.

" do you ever think we'd be lovers? "

silence befalls the two, he quickly shoots up from his seat, staring at you wide eyes, your face flushed red, you never thought much about him that way. maybe back in the jaa and early order days when his touch lingers a little longer than usual, that you slowly thought of dating and what if he was your boyfriend. seeing sakamoto and his wife wedding photo, sure you thought about it too but the man wasn't nagumo, just what if I was married to another man who isn't nagumo yoichi. he was the only closest guy in your life.

" um I didn't mean to make this awkward, I'll leave- " grabbing his hand before he walks fully pass you, he stops.

" n-no it's fine, I just never thought much about it. " he smiles upon closer look, the ever stoic and serious you, was crumbling.

" it's fine, don't think much about it, it was just a slip of the tongue. " you slap him across the face, standing up to face him fully.

" don't joke about things like romance to a girl! " you scold.

" man I didn't think it'd piss you off that much, " running a hand through his hair, you'll take him out now for messing with you.

sure it's been a long time since he's done so but this was a bit too serious and much for your heart to handle.

" well do you ever think we'd be lovers? " you repeat his question as a smirk forms from his mouth.

" of course, especially right now! Id marry you in a heartbeat if you let me, " jumping to hug you, you fall into his embrace, listening to his heart beat that doesnt seem to want to stop beating for even a second.

" please don't tell me you're joking- "

" I'm being as serious as you, I've always liked you, sure you were a pain in the beginning of our friendship but you've managed to charm me in so many ways possible. even if you weren't the cutest girl or every guy's dream girl, you are the cutest when you're really yourself. that's what I love most about you, " your face turns red from his words, for once he managed to beat you down with his words.

pulling away to inspect your face, you weren't expecting him to kiss your forehead then cheeks next, looking at your lips, you quickly put a hand on his mouth.

" don't, stop. you haven't heard my answer- "

he grabs your hand, locking his fingers with yours ever so smoothly as he shoots you one more smile.

" I don't have to, " he kisses your lips, slow and tender, as he pulls away you're left gasping for air.

" it's written all over your face, even if you won't say it out loud, I know you're also in love with me. you would've killed me last time and all the times before and right now, you could've killed me too when I'm so vulnerable and weak. "

you laugh at his words, the first happy sound he hears from all your years as a stoic lady around him. he finally cracked you.

-----

bakery event | orders

#sakumz.pdf #nagumo yoichi x reader #nagumo x reader #sakamoto days x reader #sakadays x reader

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sacredartist33013 · 1 day ago

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Okay since we're doing some psionic talk i obviously need to cover the dangerous psychic power of all... The power of mind control. Whether it be possession,brainwashing,hypnosis,or some kind of corruption or puppeteering it's a very scary concept done up in a lot of ways. And to show just how many ways one can bend a mind to their whim were gonna look at 2012 tmnt and see every time(to my memory) that the hamato clan got mentally manipulated and controlled in some way shape or form... Keep in mind despite it being the show i know the most about im not a picture perfect record of all of 2012 turtle shenanigans so i might miss some ones.

But let's start going by season with what i remember mind control wise. And what better place to start then with season 1

Season 1

I'll say it right away... Every single season has at least some mind control element to it.

But our very first look at mind control comes from season 1s rat king himself. Dr falco had the power to control any kind of rat, which sadly included the turtles beloved sensei himself.

The next(and final) mind control comes to us in the form of a mutated insect. A parasitic wasp that once it stings you will make you it's slave to it's egg(and if that infected person bites someone they get infected as well and can spread it) ultimately the slave's fate is to get eaten by the baby that comes from the egg. This was also a case of 1 against against 3 controlled. This time it was mikey vs his bros and he ended up curing them. But that's season 1 down and a decent start of the tally(yes at the end of this post we have a tally for who has been messed with the most)

Season 2

And this time we have not 1 but two cases of 1 brother against the others(and the last time i think we'll see mikey solo saving his brothers) as well as what might be the very first time we ever see mystic powers in 2012 period.

But let's start with who came before the mystical evil spirit... Pizzaface(one of the only times i see no complaints from anyone about mikeys naming of the mutant. The man even complimented mikey for his name) in this case pizza face brainwashed all of new york city(so a much bigger step then just controlling 3 trained ninjas or a master rat sensei)with brainwashing(and living!) pizza that would eventually make his pizza craving zombies not only follow his command but also get eaten by him... If we didn't see pizzaface again in season 4 or his tony form after mikey ate most of his body(and yes that means mikey ate a man. We have one mikey who we know technically killed an evil man(his father) and one who ate an evil man(the pizza man who i think is where the turtles usually got their pizza) I'm not gonna try to count all of 2003 mikeys crimes let's leave that to processionals) i would understand everyone thinking mikey made it up. But he didn't and now we all wonder if they ever found out(probably if he took a pic of pizzaface in the episode he met mondo)

Our final case of successful mind control happens to also be the first time we see mystic mind control(we won't see that again for awhile) as well as our first seeing of the mystic arts. The evil chinese spirit Ho chan. Who btw is from the very episode who started my crusade of looking into all the tomes they got messed with. Ho chan came to pop up when the purple dragons(who are literally not even the main character's this episode according to the wiki. They're side characters) released him from a dagger he was imprisoned in. He planned to drain april of her psychic powers and even gave power to the 3 dragons who released him(and those cool hats you see on the turtles) before eventually taking them away and instead giving the powers of wind,lightning and thunder to mikey,leo and raph respectively. Leaving donnie to be the one fighting 3 mind called bros this time. Only they're toted as being invincible and he has help in the form of casey(who he doesn't even get along with and is still in the 'there gonna fight to be April's boyfriend' phase of their lives) but since it was so close to the episodes end we didn't get allot of time for these guys.

Christ this is a long section On to season 3!

Season 3

Why am i counting the speed demon car? Well it did control donnies body and mutated him when it ate him and merged themselves(that and i have another case of this later on as well. We can also count this as corroptive) but the highlight of this season(and probably one of the more notorious mind control things) is the genetically engineered brainworms made by stockman that not only took control of some of the hamato clans allies but also raph and karai as well(leading eventually to the literal saw parody where everyone could have died even more) thankfully we don't see these guys ever again after this season to my memory. At least we know healing hands apparently helps you detox and purge an actual mutant worm that looks like it burrows into your eye.

Onto season 4. And it might shock you.

Season 4

This time we're discussing the corruption type of mind control. And a little possession on the side. As well as the most psychic based mind control we've seen in the series(which is interesting... Might add that to my list of tallies for this post) but here we have the aeon home planet and an aeon herself. Za naron(or of your a marvel nerd, aprils dark phoenix saga. As well as further evidence all sentient psychic forces or spirits love to bond/possess and almost always corrupt red haired psychics!)

The planet itself mostly just amplifies your existing anger while also making you angry in return(i think that had to do with the actual item april got a piece of that eventually corrupted her. The soul star) but that anger is enough to make someone hurt and nearly kill there friends and family.

And when it comes to za naron her spirit inside the star was corrupted and so april also eventually got corrupted till za naron got majority custody and donnie got atomized for the majority of the 2 parter.

Yeah this might be a good reason to not give a mind controlled slave person enchantments or powers.

But let's move onto the final season. Season 5

Season 5

(If i didn't have a 10 photo limit you'd dracula as well) season 5 not only has the most mind control instances for us to see but also the last few instances of mystic control and a corruptive one as well.

Let's start with jei. In ways he's both stronger and weaker than ho shen. Stronger in that his mind control happened multiple times and he literally pulled the turtles into a crossover between dimensions.... But weaker in the fact that he didn't give them any extra oomf like shen did back in season 2. Either jei couldn't because he's still a mortal and bound by flash,he had confidence in their abilities even while puppeted,or he was paranoid enough not to do so.

The last mystic controller is A case of supernatural mind control that resulted in enchantments. it's dracula himself. Overwriting peoples personalities and controlling them. Making vampires. He even got 4 of the hamatos before mikey killed him and saved everyone dracula controlled(which is the final time i remember where mikey saves people from mind control) but we still have one more

Mutant apocalypse leo. Whose is a very large example of being corrupted. In this case very similar to the aeon planet he was a rage machine.

And now we can finally tally up the scores.

11 mind controls throughout 5 seasons. And out of the 11(with some taking multiple slots)

6 are scientific and or engineered(jesus)

6 are corruptive

3 are mystical

3 are psionic

1 is posession

And for how many times each hamato got corrupted

Raph takes the trauma trophy for being messed with a grand total of 7 out of 11 times(lord i wanna hug him. Or make mikey hug him)

Leo comes in hot with a solid 6 out of 11 tones so this is one trauma trophy the fearless leader doesn't get

Donnie comes in next with a tie in for leos score with a 6 out of 11. Can anyone say 2012 disaster twins!

And mikey comes in last of his brothers with a total of 3 out of 11. Quite commendable but not the lowest score

April comes in tied with mikey with a 3 out of 11.

And casey has a solid 2 out of 11... But we have someone even lower.

Master splinter takes the golden cheesicle for only getting sucessfully mind controlled 1 time out of 11!

🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉 give a round of applause for our favorite troll of a sensei.

@brightlotusmoon @fire-fira @brain-rot-tmnt @technicallysublimechild

I hope my friends that You all enjoy this cause this stupid post got progress deleted 4 separate times,and error posted itself in the middle of me writing season 4s section!

Tumblr hated my post so please i hope you all enjoy it.(also sorry for the privating to finish this post getting rid of your like @brightlotusmoon i just wasn't ready yet)

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hyunles · 2 days ago

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Casual | H.HJ.

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader word count: 669 genre: angst cw: none notes: this is a bit of a vent!fic and it's not really long but i did my best, hope you like it :) as always, english is not my first language, pls consider on giving feedback (in the kindest way possible) taglist and requests are open, feel free to ask! have a nice reading <3

It started good.

Holding hands, mutual smiles, friendly dates…

Until it wasn't just a friendship.

You two started to grow closer and closer, saying cheesy things to each other, talking and playing until down, cute dates you'll never forget. The I love you's were the best. You always felt butterflies all over your body.

But these days, he's been silent, very quiet for his usual. He just texted at 2 pm asking how was your day and going silent again until midnight. Ignoring your texts but being active on social media.

You noticed all those little things, and they were like little daggers on your heart. You were confused but you thought he was just busy with his job. But no.

One night, he decided to finally text back.

"Can we talk about smth?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Your mind racing with infinite thoughts. What if he wanted a formal relationship with you? What if he didn't? What if he just talked about why he has been so distant lately?

"Sure :)"

You could only text with trembling hands. You were happy because the odds of him telling you that he wanted to take the next step were high.

"I'm going to your house. Give me 5 mins ;)"

Sigh. You were nervous as hell. You tidied up the slight mess there was on your living room —that just implied the wrinkled blanket on your couch and a coffee mug on the table— before he arrived.

As he promised, Hyunjin was at your door 5 minutes later. He had teary eyes and didn't look happy at all.

"Hyune, what happened?" You immediately asked, pulling him inside the house before cupping his face.

But he moved away.

He stepped back, swallowing his tears.

"Look… Let's start for the fact that I really love you. I think I've shared very nice moments with you, and I still have them, but I know that I might have made this situation bigger than it is, and I don't want it anymore."

He sighed quietly after that, scanning for your reaction, hoping you wouldn't feel that bad.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"Hyun?" You mumbled, confused.

He continued, wanting to make this as quick as possible.

"I don't know exactly what your feelings are for me, but I know I can't reciprocate them."

His words stung, hurting like hell.

I can't reciprocate them.

It killed you.

"This… How… Why?" You were speechless, trying not to cry.

"I just don't want you to hurt. I'm not good for you." He didn't say more. He even avoided your gaze on a desperate attempt of feeling better.

"Hyune…"

"Listen to me. I want you to be happy. And I'm not the right person… Not right now." He murmured before opening the door again.

You immediately got nervous, your eyes crystallizing with tears. "No, no Hyunjin, don't do this." You grabbed his arm in a desperate attempt to keep him close.

"Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Hyunjn don't do this. You told me you wanted to marry me, that you loved my cheesy ways, that you didn't know what you'd do without me. We've been like this for almost a year, why did everything change overnight?! What did I do wrong?" You said with broken voice, tears flowing out of your eyes, streaming down your face.

The sight broke his heart, but she moved away again. "Forgive me…" He whispered, walking out with no further explanation.

You froze for a second, and when you finally opened the door, he was already driving away.

You yelled his name hoping he would stop and turn around, but he never did.

You called a million times but he never answered.

You texted a thousand messages but he never replied.

He was serious.

And he didn't explain either. He just let you live in doubt, thinking you weren't good enough for him. He just let you feel like you were a burden or a difficulty.

And you accepted it.

After all, you knew that, if he returned, you'd be there.

ᝰ.ᐟ Reblogs and likes are very appreciated. If you enjoyed this, please consider them!

Thanks for reading!

── 2025, hyunles ⋆ No translations, rewrites, or reposts allowed.

#lirio writes #hyunjin #skz #stray kids #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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carpesabrina · 2 days ago

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"Mhmm yes, no killing people. We'll think of a single if I'm super uncomfortable need you to like beat someone up. Maybe scrunching my nose." She said. It had to be something that she didn't do often, but something that he could still see when he was pretty far away from her. "I promise if you took me to a crappy place, I'd still fuck you. Just more of a comfy bed makes it better." She teased. She tilted her head as she thought about the names that he was labelling off for her. She was all for calling him daddy in the bedroom. It was sexy. But she also knew she didn't want to be called anything like mommy or mama. She was aware those were popular in that community, but she could never see herself being called that when it came to intimacy. "Not mama or queen." She told him, scrunching her nose as she thought about the other two that he said. "Maybe Mistress. Ohh or goddess. Because I'm already your goddess." She laughed at the thought of the cops getting called on them. "Oh god, no. Could you imagine we're both standing their butt naked trying to convince the cops that you did not break into my room and that you're my partner? Now that would make the damn headlines on TMZ. Probably blurred pics of our bodies and all." She shook her head at the thought. It would be embarrassing in a whole, but worse because of who she was. How easy it was for something like that to come out. Which is why she was always careful when she was out in public. At least when she was sober and was thinking straight. "Send Winnie to the backyard and lock the cats up in the office. They'll be fine. for a few hours." She leaned up and kissed him again, her hand moving between them, "Round two and then sleep?" She asked as she wrapped her hand around him and started stroking him. After he agreed, Sabrina moved on top of him. After another round of making love, the two fell asleep tangled in each other's arms.

The rest of the week had went by fast between their little mexico trip and her family coming to New York. She was busy most of Saturday with the girls, and then Sunday they had a quick family dinner with her mom, sisters, and max's family. She was loving how well that their families got together. She had always worried about them clashing or just plain out hating each other. They were as different as Max and Sabrina were. But things always worked out in her favor. By the time Monday came around, Sabrina was ready for alone time with Max. Only to be reminded that they were in fact wrestling together. she was nervous about this one. When she had mentioned her fantasy about him fucking her in the ring, she was fully expecting it was gonna be that. But no, he added on the wrestling. "You're gonna be shirtless, correct? Trunks and no shirt? None of that onesie bullshit you've been rocking during Dynamite?" She asked, a hint of laughter in her voice as she spoke. Hey, if he wasn't gonna be shirtless for her during filming, he could at least do it that day so she could stare at him for a moment. Actually, him shirtless might be a bit too distracting for her. She linked her arm with his as she followed him into the building. She had been here before with him when he'd invite her to work out with him. She got to meet a few of his friends while here. Some of them sharing stories from his training days with her. She loved learning the Max he was before, even if his personality hadn't changed much in the ten years that he had been wrestling. "Alright, let me go get this gear on." She said as she grabbed the bag and went into the locker room. She changed out of her clothes and into the gear that he had gotten for her. She was worried it wouldn't look good on her body type, but it had. He knew what he was doing and she just had to trust the process. Sabrina had brought some makeup, so she did a quick layer just to spruce up her look, adding some pink eyeshadow to match the outfit she had on. And then she ran her brush through her hair. "Alright baby, I'm ready." She said as she walked out to go find Max.

Max had been through his own trauma of being called too much, too arrogant, too weird because of his condition and how he would lose his thoughts or forget what he was doing at times. Sabrina accepted him flaws and all. She had proven that at the restaurant when his brain shut down from being so nervous with all the paparazzi and body guards on what was supposed to be a romantic date. She could have laughed, broken up with him for being so weird but she didn't instead she squeezed his hand and rubbed it while giving his brain time to slow down again. He wasn't some mentally challenged person to her where all his life kids had made him feel like he was awkward and didn't belong. Wrestling had been his salvation but away from it, he was still a mess but he was her mess and she loved him regardless. He loved that she wanted him with her instead of telling him that facetime would do and flying away for months. He trusted her but he knew his mind would wonder why she didn't want him with her. They had never had to cross that bridge because she loved having him there no matter what time he got in if he was working. She was showing him not only her world but the actually world as they with country to country together. "We're on the same page baby. I'm excited to watch people try to pick you up and you shoot them down or me scare them off. I promise no killing anyone unless absolutely necessary. " He laughed thinking about Vegas, she would never let him live that down but no one touches his wife. "Has to be expensive because I can't expect to pick you up and take you to some crappy place. I want to make sure i get laid." He couldn't help but chuckle and place a kiss to her lips. "Yeah? I'm down with that. Whatever you want to do to me, you're in control. You need to think of what you want me to call you? Mistress, Lady, Queen, Mama, is there some for dominant personality you like being called?" He nods and stokes her arm and sides. "Definitely because I don't need anyone calling the cops about me breaking into a hotel or something. That would be weird and you'll be more comfortable at home for something like that. We'll have to put the babies up so they don't attack me since my face will be covered at first."

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ofamess · 28 days ago

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#x. ooc #me wanting to yeet my FF muses at the lot of you.#I'm not going to name names but --- only one of them might kill you and it isn't zenos. >w>#tbd

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vaguely-concerned · 7 months ago

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I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

#meanwhile rook is kicking himself for being unprofessional b/c he WAS getting something important from spite there #and also lucanis had like. just woken up was that cool of me. should I have told him. should I have slowed that down???#watcher's duty crashing into watcher's longing blues ensues #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar #rook x lucanis #rookanis #I think I might have done something hilarious and a little wonderful to the lucanis romance #by making a rook who's even slower to romance than he is fhskjfhsa #even here I was straight up like 'oh this is a little early for this don't you think' on rye's behalf (it's not we have to be mid-game)#imagine how he'd fare in some of the other romances you'd just bowl him over. davrin might kill him #(and also they would kill each other for unrelated reasons during it but that's another matter (affectionate I love my lads))#lucanis has been squinting at rook in stolen moments ever since the café scene like '...did I imagine that vibe. surely not right.#i'm pretty sure. but am I. I do know he likes me. but DOES he like like me or is that just what I want it to be. this is very embarrassing #for everyone involved' (it is)#davrin has had both their numbers the entire time tho. and been extremely annoyed but professional about it #he knew from the moment these two chucklefucks showed up in his recruitment mission. and has been an adult about it. mostly #even when they've made it real hard ('so I'm gonna go ahead and assume you're not letting the abomination serial killer run around #just because you're transparently excruciatingly sweet on him. right. RIGHT??')#I have accidentally given lucanis a pattern of falling for people who keep covered neck to toe at all times #but like not to be a metaphor for their emotional intimacy issues or anything haha. imagine.#I'm making my own heart so tender by imagining lucanis struggling to get rye out of his (many-layered) robes during the romance scene #and both of them laughing right from the soul in relief and delight at each other b/c like 'how could I kill a god only to be bested #by nevarran fashion. also how in the maker's name do you get dressed so quickly in the mornings this is intense'#'same way one does anything else lots of practice and a can-do attitude'/'well I'll just have to put in the practice then'#and they just hug for a while. *head in my hands* yeah okay I can be normal. I can be normal about this.

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shorlinesorrows · 1 year ago

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qpr jean and neil. that's all i'm gonna say.

do you see my vision?

#i might add onto this later but right now I'm too busy crying #“misplaced forever partner” ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT DESTROYED ME #neil ordering a hit to keep jean safe changed my brain chemistry #i need them to be friends #i need them to call each other and gossip and send each other stupid memes that only they understand #i need them to slowly grow closer as they heal until one day they can finish each other's sentences #and they ocassionally make super dark jokes about their trauma out of the blue (they bet on how people will react competitively)#i need them to call each other derogatory names but get Super Upset whenever anyone else talks shit about the other and offer to kill them #and i would love them to reclaim the spots next to each other that riko set #and make them their own #they're not partners on the court but they sure as hell are partners in life #the mcs ever #at one point andrew and jeremy are just looking at each other across a table at a restaurant as these two bicker #and realize they have somehow both become the Third Wheel despite the fact that 1) there's four of them and 2) jean and neil aren't dating #the amount of queer platonic pining i could fit in these traumatized people #the: “i'm lowkey obsessed with you but I Really don't like you romantically and I don't know what to do with it”#and the: “oh thank hell me too i thought i was even weirder than i already am. wanna go harass the fbi with me?"#jeremy and andrew watch this trainwreck both exasperatedly and proudly you can't convince me otherwise #cannot convince me that these four won't somehow end up living in each others pockets even if they live 1000 miles away #kevin pops in frequently as his usual wonderful diva self #anyway i'm going insane how yall doing #neil josten #jean moreau #all for the game #the sunshine court

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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 months ago

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bloodsong of oh shit....oh fuck

#got all hyped up on Ink Pen tool & did some bsol fanart then went over here & did some bsol fanart #corned beef #bsol #bloodsong of love #love how like. i was thinking about it like okay my thoughts & my verbalizations of them are not definitive concerning bsol or anything #which yayy but like the way that the Genre Conventions of like. people who are (probably mostly) figuratively outlaws & the conventions #from spaghetti westerns as like. framing for a story about some of them. & some things show us how they exit / are outside that framing #last on land like. that Already like nobody has names / are named Generically. last on land like this is about stories plural shows plural #relevant to this one but not Just this one. again thoughts words not definitive yay. banana living ''outside'' the western in the world of #someone who rejects that. only today was like oh that then it's ppl around lo cocodrilo who are also more Outside The Framing but not him #relevant to being an alternate the musician rather than forever fundamentally different; certainly a the musician; his like primary #vulnerability being how he's still not actually fully different. still another outlaw/outcast but walking a different road; he told you #all to lead around to me now considering this moment in this way like suddenly pushing things a bit Outside their genre; strikingly #as in the ways you might expect genre conventions to Contain this moment don't happen. most relevantly no music no narration.#manifestation of like wait this isn't how this story is supposed to go. my monologue; my music....#also the return to the knife. the [i'm always like wow the centerpiece to me; juxtaposing w/the henchman steve situation]#like wow that's so interesting you wanted to use your knife to obtain that guy's heart to hype yourself up for a bullet kill though #the numbers flying around my head earlier still treating seriously [au alternate version of This we all live & coconana is something] like #the musician #lo cocodrilo

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lavenderprose · 7 months ago

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Emmrich actually IS the suave and charismatic gentleman we've all been waiting for. Forget your Alistairs and your Cullens. Emmrich says dear and darling and has enough Big Dick Energy that you sense him coming from three rooms away. What's that shift in the air? Emmrich's natural necromantic aura touching the Fade? Well yes but also the sound of his monster cock swinging in his perfectly tailored trousers.

Emmrich talks to Rook like there's a love letter addressed to them specifically lodged in his voice box. He touches them like he paid money for the privilege. Emmrich uses his wealth to help others, he is NOT a person who desires power, and he expects the same of others. One time he looked at Rook and said, "The only good noble is a dead one," and even though Rook knew he was talking about the residents of the Necropolis, or perhaps because of that, it made Rook so wet they had to go sit down against a tree and bang their head a little to calm down.

Sometimes Rook shows up in Emmrich's room of an evening and without even missing a beat Emmrich says, "Come have a seat, darling," and Rook sits next to him only for him to tut and pat his knee. Immediately, Rook is perched there like he's Santa Claus.

"The things one can sense when truly in tune with the fade are inspiring," Emmrich says, and other such nonsense as his touch finds the path of least resistance to Rook's skin without hesitation. His fingers are cool and kind and they trace up the side of Rook's ribs like they might slot perfectly between them, like Rook was built as a home for his hand.

"You're killing me," Rook says, because he is, because Rook could actually choke and die from how badly they want to feel Emmrich's mustache on their thighs.

"Yes, but only a little death," Emmrich says. He smiles and his bangles jingle merrily away as he plays with Rook's chest. "Every time I touch your body, I'm already longing for the moment I'll touch it again."

"Guh," says Rook. "Hrng. Hunh."

"I quite agree. I find that words fail me when it comes to...how you make me feel, dearest." This is what Emmrich says, but fails utterly to demonstrate as he leans in and delicately bites Rook's earlobe, whispering seventeen of the twenty filthiest things Rook has ever heard. Things like I'll eat you like a cake, though you're more delicious and the Fade sings your name when I'm in you and--

"If I have to hear ONE MORE THING about that necromancer's cock," seethes Solas, who did NOT know that he was signing up for nightly pornographic lullabies when he decided to kick it in the back of Rook's head. This is the fourth time he's said that this week. He will hear many, many more things about that necromancer's cock.

"YES EMMRICH," echoes through the Fade, "Gods YES, harder! Give it to me!"

The spirits of the Fade, who like Emmrich a whole helluva lot more than they like Solas right now, twirl and giggle.

#dragon age the veilguard #emmrich volkarin #emmrook #emmrich x rook

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landoughnut · 1 month ago

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Obsessed - MV1

masterlist - request

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: when the tough, harsh, four-time world champion is in love

w/c & a/n: smau | im thirsty for max smaus

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lando, and 4,682,561 others maxverstappen1 how is she real (she's prettier than every sunset)

view all comments

user1 I actually cantttt 🥹 the way the only thing max posts besides f1 stuff is her

user2 the way he's not even IN the pictures

user3 we literally get appreciation posts of her like every other day

user4 max give me your game card

maxverstappen1 no.

lando why is she with you

maxverstappen1 I ask myself that every day tbh

yourusername lando well... 😏 ♥︎ by author

lando yourusername I take back my question. you are disgusting

danielricciardo mate you might as well change your username to her name atp, it's just pictures of her ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 my favorite job is being her personal photographer 😄

redbullracing maxverstappen1 ..... 🤨

yourusername redbullracing stole your driver 😛 ♥︎ by author

user5 why is no one talking about she looks like a real life angel ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 trust me I know

carlossainz55 who knew you were such a sap with captions like that

maxverstappen1 what can I say 🤷🏼‍♂️ she gets it out of me

user6 max is so obsessed with her I need my bf to be like him fr 😩

pierregasly you need to stop with these posts man you're making me look bad

yourusername #justiceforkika

maxverstappen1 pierregasly never

kikagomes yourusername I love you babe marry me

maxverstappen1 kikagomes I think the fuck not 🙂

user7 maxverstappen1 tsk tsk max more community service hours for you

yourusername kikagomes babe ignore max I'm already planning our elope 🤭

danielricciardo yourusername 👀

maxverstappen1 danielricciardo i will kill you.

yourusername danielricciardo maxverstappen1 what are you two hiding 😑

danielricciardo yourusername 🤐

lando maxverstappen1 HEYYY TELL ME TOO

maxverstappen1 lando no you're a blabber mouth

lando maxverstappen1 I'm telling my mum 😾

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, lando, charles_leclerc, redbullracing, and 5,429,630 others maxverstappen1 the ducks are us

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yourusername MAXXX OMG YOU ARE SO CUTE I MIGHT CRY 🥹 I LOVE YOU ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 ik hou meer van jou, mijn mooie meisje 🫶

user8 guys this isn't funny anymore when will I find a guy who takes pretty pictures of me and says that we are two adorable ducks

user9 real

user10 they are sooooo grumpy sunshine but with him having the softest soft spot for her

lando okay thats enough you guys are making me feel lonely

yourusername go kiss carlos or something ♥︎ by author

user10 yourusername clocked him

redbullracing our favorites 💙 ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri aesthetic max 🔓 ♥︎ by author

alex_albon lily would like me to ask if you are ever up for... a... double... date

yourusername YES YES YES YES YES YES

maxverstappen1 well since my lady is so keen on the idea, sure

user11 "my lady" SCREAMINGGG AWWW

danielricciardo I love you guys ♥︎ by author

yourusername we love you too Danny 🥰

charles_leclerc what... what does this mean for us 🥺

maxverstappen1 don't you have a girlfriend? go cry to her

user12 maxverstappen1 CLOCKED HIM

user13 forget max I need HER

maxverstappen1 blocked 😍

user14 who cares about him ma'am please give me one chance

maxverstappen1 and are you a four time world champion?

user15 maxverstappen1 CLOCKED HIMMMMMMM

yourusername damn it I knew we should have kept the ducks ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 liefde how would we take care of them while traveling

yourusername maxverstappen1 you underestimate me.. I can be a very good mother duck 😇 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername I'm sure you could be, maybe next time 😁

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen, danielricciardo, and 9,246,348 others maxverstappen1 soon to be mrs verstappen 💙

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victoriaverstappen AHHHHHH SCREAMING RIGHT NOW CONGRATULATIONS GUYS OMG ♥︎ by author

yourusername THANK YOU VIC I LOVE YOU SMMMM

danielricciardo AYYYYY FINALLY CONGRATS GUYS I HELPED HIM MAKE THE RING ♥︎ by author

yourusername I can't believe you were able to hide this from me for so long

danielricciardo yourusername well your boyfriend, or now fiancé, threatened me too many times to count so I had to for my own safety

yourusername danielricciardo how romantic 💝

lando WHATATATTATATATTTTT YOU GUYS DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT THIS ⁉️⁉️

charles_leclerc NOOOOO LESTAPPENNNNNN

yourusername just put the fries in the bag already bro

charles_leclerc I'm just joking congratulations guys ❤️

maxverstappen1 thank you 🙂

sophiekumpen omg!! so so so happy for you guys ❤️ I love and miss you both so much! ♥︎ by author

yourusername 🥹 thank you so much! we will visit soon 💗

maxverstappen1 bedankt mam ik hou van je

user16 MAX IS GOING TO BE MARRIED??!?!??!?!?

user17 and the hottest couple award goes to them 😫

alex_albon congrats! you guys are adorable ♥︎ by author

kikagomes MY GIRL IS ENGAGED OMGGG

kikagomes the middle pic 😍

yourusername MWAHHHHH XXXX

user18 HELLO??? IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE ABSOLUTE ROCK ON HER FINGER??

user19 sis that ain't a rock thats a whole boulder

user20 the way it literally doesn't even dent his bank

francolapinto congratulations! ♥︎ by author

yourusername gracias francoooo 🥳

carlossainz55 felicitaciones a la pareja más hermosa 🙌 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 thanks carlos 😊

user21 max using emojis is uncanny

yourusername carlossainz55 GRACIASSSS CARLITOSSSSS

lando I better be at this wedding.

yourusername sorry no kids invited ♥︎ by author

user22 yourusername CLOCKEDDDDD HIMMMMMMM

lando yourusername YOU AND MAX ARE SUCH BULLIES OH MY GOSH ♥︎ by author

user23 what is up with them recently 😭 they're so feisty I love it

user24 max is a lucky lucky man

maxverstappen1 I know ☺️

schecoperez FELICIDADES AMIGOS ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 thank you checo 😁

yourusername you are too handsome for your own good, you know that? ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 nahhh you're the one who's too ethereal

lando maxverstappen1 sid 🦥

lando WHO SAID THATTTTTTT

yourusername lando don't do my man dirty like that 😭 he's the prettiest sloth there is ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername so now I'm sid the sloth....

yourusername maxverstappen1 don't worry love, your title will be upgraded to husband soon enough 💕 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that 😍

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ckret2 · 10 months ago

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who wants a prism break?

So, the Theraprism! The Theraprism sucks, right?

This is like, a good day.

The Theraprism clearly sucks.

Have a one shot of Bill escaping Theraprism with the most desperate escape plan imaginable: reincarnation.

(Warning for, as you might expect, psychiatric hospital abuse.)

####

There are fates worse than death. Like boredom, for instance!

####

Everything was black and numb and silent and cold so so cold but no he could only call it cold if he felt cold and Bill didn't feel coldness there was just the absence of a feeling the absence of heat the absence of light the absence of sound the absence of touch the absence of air.

The absence of everything.

Bill had loved a void once—a micro black hole. Every time they touched it slowly killed him, spaghettified his limbs, drained his energy. His energy was so vast that she never claimed a drop of a drop of a drop of his reserves—but it still hurt like nothing else to be crushed and stretched and ripped and consumed by her event horizon. The pain was wonderful. Being shredded was ecstasy.

This void was the opposite of her.

He couldn't even feel anything when he tried to scream—without air, he couldn't feel his vocal plates vibrate. He couldn't feel his hands, his face, his eye; he tried to bite himself just to feel something and he couldn't feel his mouth, he tried to rip open his wounds and couldn't find them; why couldn't he see his own light, why couldn't he see his blood, where had he gone, was he gone—

Reality returned like a light bulb being switched on.

The first thing he registered was a shrill sound on the verge of inaudibility; and then the pain in his eye, his sides, his wounds; and then the dull gray light, the hard floor under his knees, the antiseptic stench in the air conditioning.

He stopped screaming. The shrill sound stopped.

"Energetic as always, are we?"

Bill blinked blearily at the Orb of Healing Light hovering before him. He croaked, "I'll regurgitate you."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." A glowing translucent clipboard manifested in front of the Orb. "Well, you've gone through this enough times to know the drill! Do you need a moment to recover, or—?"

"No no, I'm fine, I'm fine." Bill slumped forward, trembling hands on the floor, waiting for the vertigo to pass. "I'm fine. Do your thing." He'd rather get the post-Solitary Wellness Void reorientation interview over with.

"Perfect. What's your name?"

"I'm ol' Vinegar Pete."

"No clowning, please."

He sighed loudly. "Bill Cipher."

"Good. Where are you?"

He considered saying hell, but decided he'd used up all the clowning he could risk for one day. He didn't want to go back in. "The Theraprism. Ward 333."

"Very good. When are you?"

"I was gonna ask you," Bill groaned. "How long was I in the hole this time? A million years? Ten million?"

The Orb checked its notes. "Eight minutes."

"Wh—no, no I know that time moves slower out in reality than in the prism. I'm not asking how much time passed in reality, I'm asking how much time passed here."

"Eight minutes," the Orb repeated. "Outside the Theraprism, one third of one second passed."

Bill groaned again and flopped flat on the floor.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Why are any of us here?" Bill asked the gray linoleum tiles. "Usually because some dumb beast tripped into the booby trap that sets off its reproductive process. How's your species work, you pop outta nebulas, right—?"

"I meant, coming out of the Solitary Wellness Void."

"Oh." Bill tried to remember what his infraction had been this time. "Because I failed to escape."

"Because you tried to escape."

If he'd succeeded, they never could have punished him. "Sure."

"Good, you seem oriented to your surroundings. Let's get you to the nurse and then back to your cell." The nurse? What did he need a nurse for?

He only realized then that he must have succeeded in reopening his wounds in the SWV: the never-quite-healed crack across his exoskeleton was wider, the edges chipped and bent. It hurt. His eye socket hurt too; he tasted blood. With the way his whole body usually ached after leaving the void, he hadn't even noticed.

Through the crack in his exoskeleton, his edges had frayed into fine golden threads. The sight of silvery blood on his hands made him nauseous; he hastily looked away and reminded himself it was only his own.

####

As Bill wearily followed behind the Orb and two security guards followed behind him, he had to periodically turn to hover sideways to streamline himself. These days he was so weak that he could feel the air resistance pushing back against him when he floated; with his wound reopened, he felt like the air pressure could snap his exoskeleton along the crack and break him in half.

"You're not Emmy," Bill said. "You're, uh..."

"A-AOX4."

"Oxyyy," Bill said weakly. "Heyyy. S'been a while. Usually I get a personal welcome back from the void, why didn't Emmy show? Don't tell me it doesn't see me as a threat anymore!" He'd be offended if it didn't. D-SM5 was the closest thing he had to a nemesis these days. Even if he couldn't beat it, he wanted to think he still irritated the daylights out of it.

"Director SM5 couldn't make it. It's overseeing the preparations for Paingoreous's reincarnation."

"That's today? Good riddance." Paingoreous had started getting sanctimonious the past few hundred group therapy sessions—don't you have any compassion for your victims and it's possible to live a happy life without slaughtering all your enemies first and maybe I should ask for permission before I vivisect my friends' faces—passive, self-defeatist crap like that. Vivisecting your friends and seeing who complained was how you found out who your lame friends were! Now that the wet blanket was leaving, the rest of them could get back to spending their sessions reminiscing about the glory days and trying to set the donuts on fire when the therapist was distracted.

"Yes," A-AOX4 said pointedly, "it is good he gets to leave to go become a productive member of reality. We're all so happy that he's rehabilitated enough to earn a new chance at life." (Bill rolled his eye. A-AOX4 ignored it.) "Wouldn't you like a chance to rejoin reality, Bill?"

More than anything. He'd been in this crystallized brain's perpetual dreamscape for what felt like both a thousand years and a single day—time never passing, an eternal inescapable moment. He'd tried to break out, sneak out, or bargain his way out more times than he could count; sometimes he was locked in the SWV as punishment; and sometimes the staff gently stopped him, confiscated his supplies, and chastised him for the effort—and the reminder that he was as powerless as a child was worse than the void. He'd gone delirious from the boredom, hallucinating screams and burning faces as his mind struggled to stimulate itself (and he'd been medicated for it). He'd so despaired of escaping that he'd looked for a way to burn up the remains of his energy and vanish for good (and he'd been medicated for it). He ached with the need to see the stars again.

But not enough to sell his soul for it. If he took the staff's route—let them break him down, sandblast off his rough edges, erase everything that made him him, and finally physically transform him into some alien creature—then whatever left the Theraprism would no longer be Bill Cipher.

"What, and force you guys to find a new 'unique case'? I wouldn't do that to you! I know how much you love me," Bill said. "Besides, why would I go through all that just so I can reincarnate as a sentient snowflake, or Mi-Go antennae lice, or..."

"A butterfly," A-AOX4 cut in, an edge of impatience creeping into its tone. "Paingoreous has chosen to reincarnate as a butterfly. We all think that's a very productive way to channel his desire to digest his own skin."

"Unless it's one of those blood-drinking butterflies, lame." Bill scoffed. "Wait—hold on, you said butterfly? Like an Earth butterfly?"

They were, of course, not actually speaking an Earth language, but an interdimensional pidgin that borrowed words and grammar from dozens of worlds. When around the Orbs of Healing Light that held half the staff positions, Bill tended to speak a dialect of the pidgin that used flashes of light for 40% of its vocabulary. It was perfectly possible that the word Bill knew as "butterfly" was also used for some alien creature, but—

"Yes, an Earth butterfly. A Vanessa atalanta, to be precise."

Aw, boo. Not even a cool butterfly. "He's reincarnating on Earth?"

"Yes. Many of our patients reincarnate on Earth. As long as you're careful about which region and century you reincarnate into, it's at the top of our recommended list of Goldilocks zones."

There was another phrase that Bill recognized, but this time he was sure his definition was not A-AOX4's definition. "Whaaat do Goldilocks zones have to do with reincarnation."

"You didn't pay attention to the orientation session on our outpatient reincarnation program, did you."

"What! I didn't get an orientation session!" said Bill, who probably didn't remember any such session because he didn't pay attention to it.

"Well—we rank millions of planets and their dimensional parallels based on their potential to help patients reintegrate into reality. We do try to set our patients up for success," A-AOX4 said. "To qualify as a Goldilocks zone, a planet has to meet the Theraprism's rigorous list of criteria: its lifeforms, cultures, laws of physics, and position in interdimensional society must all be conducive to a patient's continued recovery. We want to ensure that our patients' new lives are neither so difficult as to retraumatize them, nor so easy as to let them coast by avoiding continued personal growth, but right in the middle, so that they're emotionally and spiritually challenged without being overwhelmed. The Goldilocks zone: a perfect compromise between two extremes."

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Bill could feel his eye glazing over in disinterest. Fight it, Cipher.

"Do you miss Earth?"

Bill tilted to glance askance at A-AOX4, and was surprised to see it had turned to focus a spotlight on him. Oh—it thought it had finally found a carrot to dangle in front of him. That was a popular strategy here: they figured out what a patient wanted most, and then used it to coax them into good behavior and "rehabilitation"—better still if they could attach a sense of urgency to it. Don't you want to see your descendants again before the last of them dies out? Don't you want to see your homeworld before its sun swallows it? Don't you want to reconcile with your god before the heat death of your universe?

But Bill had no universe, no homeworld, no family; no lovers or friends or gods that hadn't betrayed him and left him to rot here; and he'd remained smugly steadfast in refusing to give D-SM5 and its minions anything else it could use to get under his chitin. He was proud that he was too broken for even the famed Theraprism to fix him.

A-AOX4 probably thought it had finally found an opening. It might be useful to let it keep thinking that.

"You kidding me? Earth? Pfff! I don't miss that overgrown asteroid one bit!" He waved off the suggestion, and winced when the gesture tugged wrong at his reopened wound. "But hey, you don't study a world for millions of years without finding a few things about it to like. The music's pretty good. And the movies and literature, though if you ask me, they peaked between the first two World Wars. I like trees, evolution did a great job with trees. And humans really went off with the architecture. The pyramids? 10 out of 10. And some of the locals aren't bad, I've got a few exes from Earth."

"Do you? How many exes?"

"Living? Just a hundred forty or fifty," Bill said dismissively. "Earthlings just have those pretty eyes, you know? I'm a sucker for a pretty eye! But outside of that, no, there's nothing on Earth for me."

"I see," A-AOX4 said lightly, and dropped the conversation.

Hook, line, and sinker.

####

The original definition of a "Goldilocks zone" came from astrobiology. The Goldilocks zone was the ring of space around a star in which an orbiting planet could support liquid water and thus water-based life: not too close to the star and too hot, not too far and too cold, but just right. Earth, for instance, orbited Sol in its Goldilocks zone.

It was from this definition that other, more metaphorical definitions of Goldilocks zones emerged. Such as the Theraprism's: a world that was neither too stressful nor too boring for a newly brainwashed—sorry, "cured"—patient. And apparently Earth was in that Goldilocks zone, too.

Which was very interesting to Bill—because in their search for a new home, the Henchmaniacs had come up with their own definition of a Goldilocks zone. For them, it was a dimension close enough to the Nightmare Realm with a thin enough barrier that they could easily punch through it, but not so close and so thin that puncturing the barrier would pop it like a balloon and cause the dimension to immediately prolapse into the Nightmare Realm—which was a problem they'd had before. More than once. They needed a dimension they could easily cut a hole into, but control it, so they could slowly pump the Nightmare Realm's contents in. A barrier neither too vulnerable nor too strong, but just right.

And wouldn't you know it—but Earth happened to be in that Goldilocks zone too. Right next to a point in the dimensional membrane so thin, the Nightmare Realm could almost stretch through and kiss it.

####

Since Bill Cipher was infamously known as the last survivor of a trillion-years-extinct species, and had until recently been capable of instantly repairing himself, there were no medical records on how his anatomy worked. It didn't help that at some point eons ago he'd somehow managed to graft a 3D exoskeleton to his 2D anatomy without breaking his own physics, meaning no one had seen his true body in recorded history. Bill knew how he worked, but refused to offer any hints. So the Theraprism staff had to guess at Bill's medical treatment.

But Bill was still made of energy, and even weakened he could eventually self-repair. So whenever his injury was exacerbated, the nurse tended to just patch up his exoskeleton to keep it stable enough to send him back to his room.

On top of his mysterious anatomy, the staff had no idea how to medicate his physiology. They knew he could be medicated—Bill's personal substance (ab)use experiments were notorious far outside the Nightmare Realm—but they had to treat him like a newly-discovered form of life in figuring out what affected him, how it affected him, and how much it took. He'd been on and off hundreds of drugs as they tried to chemically stabilize a mind for which they had no idea what baseline stability looked like. D-SM5 had told him that between the enormous doses needed to impact his energy-based physiology and the vast variety of drugs he'd been through, Bill's medication regimen was the most expensive in the Theraprism. He took some pride in that.

He had very few things to take pride in anymore. He clung to what meager victories he could.

If Bill got his way, he wouldn't be medicated at all. None of the substances they wanted him on were what he'd call recreational. (Although for a while he had gotten away with not telling the docs that one of his antipsychotics had given him a side-effect of kaleidoscopic hallucinations.) Plus there was the fact that he'd heard rumors that quite a few pharmaceutical execs were good pals with a certain director—not that Bill would name names, of course!—that's his motto, Don't Slander Maliciou5ly!

But when he resisted taking his meds, they could send in the guards to pin him down so a nurse could inject a sedative so strong he wouldn't remember anything that happened for the next few hours to months (hard to tell) until they started tapering it off... and although he'd rather die than admit it, after losing that fight five or six times, even he had to admit to himself it was a lot less scary to just take their rotten drugs. Better to go through his days with his mind dulled and hazy than blacked out altogether.

To retain what little pride he had left, he'd reached a compromise with his jailers.

When the nurse had finished attaching the reinforcing splints around Bill's injury, they grabbed a medication measurement cup, filled it halfway with syrupy eye drops, and double-checked Bill's chart as they dropped thirteen different pills (plus a fourteenth pill for a painkiller) in the cup.

As Bill redressed, he eyed the unappetizing cocktail of antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and things he'd forgotten the purpose of but that probably weren't doing whatever the doctors hoped and definitely weren't doing anything Bill liked. "My straw?"

"Right, right." The nurse handed over one of the wide-diameter disposable white straws they kept on hand for patients who struggled to drink (or, in Bill's case, patients they struggled to get to drink).

Only a tiny fragment of Bill was actually locked up in the Theraprism—like pinching the glowing lure of an anglerfish in a trap while the rest of the fish thrashed outside—and because most of Bill's vast energy was elsewhere, he was nearly powerless. But he still had enough energy to heat up a finger, twist the straw around it, and hold it there until it had melted into a new shape.

The nurse sighed. "Do you have to do that every time? You ruin more straws than you get right."

Imperiously, Bill said, "Leave me to my whimsy." He tugged off the straw when it had cooled down to examine the corkscrew shape he'd made. The wall was a little flattened in one place, but he could pinch it back open. "See? It's perfect!" Cheerfully ignoring the nurse, he stuck the straw in his cup and slurped down his pills like tapioca balls. He tried not to remember what was in them.

A-AOX4 had left Bill with the nurse, but the two mall cops with medical kinks known as Bill's personal guards were still waiting nearby. The nurse's office was next door to the cafeteria—for ease of patients picking up their medications at meal times—in an anteroom that was connected to the rest of the ward by a set of locked double doors. A couple of guards were stationed near those doors at all times, and generally the guards assigned to Bill hung around with them while Bill was in the cafeteria or nurse's office. Bill floated up to them, regarding them with the disinterest of a king ignoring the servants he expected to open doors for him, and continued to ignore them as they escorted him back to his cell, one in front and one behind, while he sipped on his drugged cocktail.

The Dimensional Tyrant Ward was already one of the most heavily-guarded wards in the Theraprism; but to reach the maximum security cells, a patient had to pass several increasingly heavy security checkpoints with increasingly impenetrable security doors. The final door was warded against all magic, unhackable, unbreakable, and so airtight that even without his exoskeleton there was no gap Bill's 2D form could slide through. The doors to each cell—outfitted with tiny one-way mirror portholes, no latches or hinges on the inside—were a little less heavy duty, but packed with just as many failsafes. The Dimensional Tyrant Ward's max security hall had the most advanced security architecture of any psychiatric facility in the multiverse.

Bill had made a trillion year career of trying to break his way through a door nobody wanted him to go through. He could think of seven different ways to get through the doors. Sooner or later he'd find a way out of this place altogether.

A few of the doors had modifications: this one with a metal slab over the porthole to protect passersby from the occupant's petrifying gaze, that one with extra soundproofed padding coating the door. Bill was almost insulted his own door didn't warrant any special modifications.

His favorite door was The Beast's. A comfortingly yellow triangular sign on the door displayed a black symbol of a steak. Red signs above and below read "CAUTION! FEED UNSEASONED MEAT ONLY." "NO SUGAR ALLOWED." The Beast's heavy snuffing was audible through the door; his hot, sickly sweet breath seeped through the slot in the door that had been installed to deliver his food.

Bill's escorts automatically drifted to the far side of the hall to avoid The Beast. Bill, whose first medication was already starting to kick in, zigzagged lazily back and forth across the hall, heedless of how close he came to The Beast's cell.

Bill had never seen this door opened once in all his time incarcerated, and the dust settled on the additional chains and padlocks stretched across the door showed just how long it had been since the last incident. But some of the patients who'd been here longer than Bill still couldn't bring themselves to speak of the last time he'd escaped. Elder eldritch gods shuddered and gibbered nervously at the mention of his name.

Bill tilted over to try to peer through the food slot at The Beast. A quivering, sickly blue eye stared back at him. Honestly, Bill thought The Beast was adorable.

Outside Bill's door, the guards waited for Bill to finish his medicine, hand over his cup and straw, and open his mouth and lift his eye out of the way so they could check and make sure he'd swallowed them.

And then he was left in his cell.

####

A perfect cube of uniform dull grey tiles supernaturally lit by a uniform dull grey glow, no light source, no shadows; in a max security room in the Maximum Security Wellness Center, patients weren't even trusted around light fixtures. The staff had removed everything Bill had used thus far to commit violence or attempt escape, plus a few more things as punishments for various infractions: journal, paint, pens, books, magazines, puppets (he missed those the most), even the furniture. He'd never earned the privilege of a TV or radio. By now, all he was permitted were black, red, yellow, and blue dry erase markers to draw on his walls—and the red and blue had gone dry; the "Be a TRY-angle!" poster they'd replaced whenever Bill left the room until he gave up and stopped tearing it down; and the clothes on his back. He'd gradually gotten himself banned from every extracurricular and recreational activity the Dimensional Tyrant Ward offered. Whenever he was fresh out of the SWV, when his restrictions were highest, his schedule consisted of mandatory individual therapy, mandatory group therapy, med checks, and the cafeteria.

He spent the vast majority of his time in his cell, sitting curled up alone, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating, waiting for nothing at all.

####

The seamless door swung open and admitted an Orb of Healing Light.

Bill blinked blearily up at the Orb. It was hard to tell how slowly time passed here, but he was sure it couldn't have been more than a couple hours since he'd been returned to his cell: that was when his medications made his mind the foggiest. "Emmyyy. Where ya been? Didn't see you when I came out of the Solitary Dullness Void. Nice of you to, uh..." A second ago he'd had a clever quip about how D-SM5 had clearly dropped by because it missed Bill, but he'd forgotten how to word it.

"Well, I'm here now. I'm flattered you missed me, Mr. Cipher."

Bill blinked heavily. "You turned that around on me," he griped. "Not fair." Ugh, the room was spinning. He flopped on his back.

"A-AOX4 tells me you showed an interest earlier in our outpatient reincarnation program," D-SM5 said. "Since it looks like your schedule is light these days, I thought you might be interested in attending Paingoreous's reincarnation?"

It took him a moment to process the offer. "Really? That's something people can attend?" What was the catch?

"We usually only extend the offer to the departing patient's friends, and—exemplary patients. But... I thought you might benefit from watching the process for yourself. It may encourage you to take a little more interest in your future."

For it to push a possible lead so fast, it really was desperate to find some leverage they could use on Bill. It probably thought of this as a rare opportunity—a patient from Ward 333 wasn't ready for reincarnation every day.

"Wow. I sure am encouraged," Bill said. "You have no idea just how encouraged I am."

####

If an unambitious office building and a utilitarian hospital reluctantly got married out of a vague sense of heteronormative social obligation, had a depressed child, and the fae spirited it away to replace it with an even more depressed changeling child, the child's small intestines would look a lot like the Theraprism's interior hallways: it was windowless, it was labyrinthine, it was beige, and it was grey, and it didn't even care anymore. Monotonous commercial high-traffic carpet alternated with monotonous commercial high-traffic linoleum. The fluorescent lights buzzed just enough to be annoying, but not quite enough that you'd feel justified in snapping and screaming "I've had it!" as you swung a pleather-seated metal chair at the light fixture.

Even though Bill had been languishing in the Theraprism for hours and/or millennia (Bill couldn't tell; he couldn't feel the passage of time), he hardly knew his way around the Dimensional Tyrant Ward, much less the rest of the facility. As D-SM5 led Bill (and six guards) out of Ward 333 and into a lower security zone, he looked for any scant identifiable landmarks and tried to memorize which turns they took by coding the lefts and rights and ups and downs into a mnemonic word. The walk helped wake him from his medication stupor; but his mind never quite felt fully on.

Bill had only briefly glimpsed the Theraprism's reincarnation unit during intake, just one of many rooms he'd been whisked past as he was dragged to Ward 333 screaming and cursing the Axolotl's name. Entering the unit now, it looked like an occult sacrificial altar carved from marble that had been modeled after a 23rd century starship's teleportation platform, contained in a room that looked like a magic planetarium: glowing stars hovered around the dome of the ceiling. Against the back wall in pale pink marble was carved an impossibly long axolotl, swimming in a figure 8 so its vapid smile almost caught the tip of its ribbonlike tail. Bill glowered at it. Backstabber.

He, D-SM5, and the other observers who'd already arrived were in a connected observation room with an enormous, thick window and a sealed door. Next to the window was a large computer console encased in the same marble as the reincarnation altar. That probably controlled the process.

The audience consisted of three aliens who looked a little like Paingoreous might have with his face unpeeled, a few patients and staff Bill recognized, more he didn't, and Jessica with the shining spherical head and the thirteen fingers. Oh boy. If he'd known Jessica would be here he would have tried to polish. Bill straightened his bow tie and smoothed his rumpled orange jumpsuit.

Paingoreous himself was already in the next room, standing on the altar. At the sight of Bill, his exposed facial muscles twitched, as though trying to widen his eyes even though their eyelids were already long gone. "Bill? What are you doing here?"

D-SM5 answered before Bill could blurt out a witty retort. "I invited Mr. Cipher. I thought he would benefit from seeing what he can look forward to once he's improved. I hope you don't mind."

Paingoreous's face immediately smoothed out. "Yes—of course, director, if you say so. I remember how difficult it was in the early days. I'm happy to help my fellow patients in any way I can." Suck up. A dry note entered his voice, "Especially a more troubled patient."

Bill took one of the folding chairs lined up in front of the window and shot back, "I'm about to have one less trouble! Byyye!" (Did Jessica think that was funny? Sometimes she did. He snuck a sideways glance to see if she was laughing. Oh, right—she didn't have a face.)

Paingoreous didn't dignify him with a response. Too good for the likes of Bill, no doubt. Paingoreous wasn't obligated to answer anybody—except the staff, of course.

Bill had never met the real Paingoreous. By the time Bill was committed, the monotony, medication, and mandatory therapy were already well on their way to killing whoever Paing had once been. No way the offensively bland sap leaving now was the same one who'd come in with his face skinned and muscles pinned open.

A technician was already turning on the computer console, running through a whole list of checks as the machine booted up. A hum filled the room as the altar began to softly glow. To all appearances Bill was facing forward, slitted pupil aimed straight at Paingoreous; but his anatomy was built for watching things out of the corner of his eye and his real attention was focused on the reincarnation technician. "So how's reincarnation work in this dump?" Bill asked D-SM5. "I didn't get the orientation."

"Yes you did," D-SM5 said. "I was there."

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't remember seeing you."

D-SM5 sighed. "First, Paingoreous's memories of his current life must be erased, to give him the best fresh start possible and to comply with Earth's soul sanitization regulations."

"Seems like a big waste of time. His head's already empty enough."

One of the Paing-ish aliens a couple seats over shot Bill a dirty look. "That's my son in there."

"Not for much longer, he isn't."

"Be respectful," D-SM5 said warningly.

Bill ignored it. "So once you've scrubbed his brain clean, what then?"

"Then, we reincarnate him. We've already carefully selected his destination and species; except for special circumstances, we generally don't customize the patient's body further, as the program is already set up to divinely design the body most well-suited to the soul about to inhabit it."

"If these bodies are so perfect, why customize them at all?"

"We wouldn't want, say, a recovering pyromaniac to be reborn with pyrokinesis." (Bill felt unfairly targeted.) "Once his species and destination are entered into the program, off he'll go to start his new life as an egg."

"An egg?! Sheesh, wasn't going through childhood once bad enough? I assume his childhood was bad, anyway! Nobody with competent parents ends up like him."

The Paing-ish alien beside Bill bolted out of their seat and lurched aggressively toward Bill. (Ha. Too easy.) The next alien over tugged them back by the arm. Bill was sure he heard a whispered, "Careful, do you know who that..."

D-SM5 said, "One more crack like that and you're going back to your cell."

"Fiiine. Why can't he skip straight to being a butterfly, though?" What he really wanted to find out was how to skip straight to adulthood.

"For starters, because spontaneous generation has been heavily restricted on Earth since the 15th century, and banned completely outside of special circumstances since the 19th century."

Spontaneous generation. The creation of fully formed life from unliving matter: maggots that emerged from flesh, geese that emerged from barnacles, snakes and crocodiles that wriggled out of the mud of the Nile. He'd always planned to legalize it again when he took over. So if the only reason the Theraprism couldn't do it was because it was banned, then they must have the technology for it, right?

Bill tuned D-SM5 out as it prattled on about the mental health benefits of restarting life and beginner's mind and boring therapeutic psychobabble, and ignored the flashing lights and divine music as Paingoreous's memory, personality, and identity were all wiped clean. He was only interested in what the reincarnation technician was doing. (Although when Bill briefly glanced at Paingoreous, his shape seemed somehow uncertain, as though his molecules had only just walked into the room and promptly forgotten what they'd come in for or who they were supposed to be. Ready to be reshaped into something else.)

The technician opened up the primary reincarnation program, checked a box confirming that the patient's previous incarnation had been erased, and began setting up the specifications for his next incarnation. Choosing the reincarnation world was easy enough: under the drop down menu, the "Goldilocks zone" worlds were sorted first. Earth was sixth on the list. Choosing a dimension was just as easy.

However, choosing the location and time period looked more complicated; rather than searching through a handy list of continents or geological epochs, the technician checked Paingoreous's patient file and typed a couple of long strings of numbers into the blanks for the coordinates and time. They didn't look like any date system or coordinate system Bill was familiar with. How the heck would he work with that?

And selecting the species, to Bill's horror, meant scrolling down a menu ordered by how frequently a species had been selected for reincarnation at this facility. That was insane! The Theraprism always discharged patients as unambitious species where one member was nearly incapable of making a meaningful impact on the local biosphere—anything useful like an octopus or a goat would be buried amongst the literal billions of species that had received zero reincarnations. Couldn't you just start typing the species's name to jump down to—? But no, the Theraprism's keyboard didn't have characters to type human loan words. The technician seemed to be scrolling manually.

That was fine! That was fine. Whatever Bill left as, he wouldn't be it for very long. He wasn't shopping for a makeover; just for an escape pod.

The technician located Vanessa atalanta (147 prior reincarnations) and kept moving, tabbing past a dizzying array of options—sex, size, coloration, visual clarity, caterpillar spine distribution, a whole list of health conditions and mutations the technician skipped—and every box she tabbed past automatically filled in with the word "DEFAULT". How many boxes could be filled in with defaults?

Bill leaned toward D-SM5. "So do you chuck these suckers out anywhere random on the planet or what?"

"Of course not," it said promptly. "What a thought! We take a deep interest in our discharged patients' well-being. We never leave where they spend their next lives at the whim of the computer's randomized decision."

But they could leave it up to the computer. Still watching sideways as the technician scrolled past an "advanced settings" button without touching it (was that where the spontaneous generation option was hidden?), Bill asked, "Do youalways choose for the patient, or can the patient make requests?"

Dryly, D-SM5 said, "Unless you make some enormous progress, I doubt you'd get clearance to reincarnate anywhere near that town you terrorized, if that's what you're wondering."

"What! Who said I want to visit that crummy valley! All those mountains and trees? Ugh! No, do you know what kind of place I like? The Greater Cairo metropolitan area. Dry! Sandy! Flat!" said Bill, who detested flat landscapes with all his heart. "Covered in pyramids! Sometimes with my face on them! Plus there's the Nile! I love the Nile! I love being in the Nile! I'd spend all my time in the Nile if I could! I've had some loser ex-friends say that living your whole life in the Nile is an unhealthy coping mechanism to avoid addressing problems in your life, but if you ask me they're just jealous of how amazing my life is—"

"Ready for reincarnation," the technician said. "Proceed?"

D-SM5 left its seat, hovering closer to the glass to catch Paingoreous's attention. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Paingoreous, who clearly wasn't certain what he was claiming to be ready for.

"Proceed," D-SM5 said. Bill fell silent, paying close attention to how the technician began the reincarnation process.

She clicked a button that said "EXECUTE" (gruesome), clicked through a couple more confirmation screens, and then the faint background hum grew to a rumble and the magical stars glowed brighter. "Ten seconds," she said. "Nine... eight... seven..."

"Hey!" Bill shouted through the glass. "Friendly tip for Earth! Humans love when you fly into their eyeballs! You should do that!"

D-SM5 rounded on Bill, glowing furiously at him. (Maybe it was Bill's imagination, but he thought Jessica looked amused. Worth it.)

The soon-to-be caterpillar formerly known as Paingoreous stared in confusion at Bill. "Okay," he said—and then there was a bright flash of light.

He let out an awful wail of pure soul-rending agony.

When the light faded, he was gone.

The observation room had fallen perfectly silent.

"That's fine," D-SM5 said. "That's—that's normal."

####

Every once in a while, the Theraprism got something right. It was one of the few big government-sponsored "respectable" institutions that didn't make a fuss about how Bill ate. They just let him go to the cafeteria, strip down, unpeel his exoskeleton, and hang out with the photosynthesizers for half an hour or so in the corner under the grow lights. No gasps of horror or screams of outrage—not from the staff anyway; some of the patients took a bit to get used to it when they were new. It was a refreshing change.

On the other hand, even though they were willing to turn a couple lights high enough to melt most mortals' eyeballs when Bill was feeding, he never left feeling truly energized. The grow lights were designed for species with leaves and solar panels; they weren't designed to fuel up a god made of energy. A few bright lightbulbs didn't measure up to raw starlight.

He figured there wasn't any point in complaining. As much as he hated feeling like a gas tank trying to burn a dust mote for fuel, he knew that they knew that long before he even reached 1% of his usual power, he'd be strong enough to vaporize the Theraprism with the snap of a finger.

When he'd had his daily dose of light, he folded shut, redressed, and drifted over to the actual food for dessert. He grabbed a bottle of an allegedly "lemon" nigh-flavorless clear soda—this would do—and hovered toward the exit.

The cafeteria monitor stationed in the door elbowed her way in front of Bill. "Ahem."

"What?"

"You know the rules. No food outside the cafeteria."

"What! This isn't food, it's a soda. Beverages aren't food, everyone knows that." The monitor didn't budge. Bill tried whining. "C'mooon, I got injured in the void today. Look at this!" He gestured demonstratively at his splints. "Look how much pain I'm in!"

The Solitary Wellness Void made this cafeteria monitor uncomfortable. She'd never said so directly, but she tended to turn a blind eye when patients who'd just come out of the SWV were more aggressive than usual or tried to sneak extra desserts. One time when Bill had come out of a week in the SWV, she'd wordlessly slipped him a couple of packets of low-sodium fear sauce, a condiment usually distributed exclusively to the obligate phobophages in the ward. "Besides, it's my birthday! I'm a birthday triangle! You wouldn't deny a birthday triangle a soda, right?"

"Is it really your birthday?"

"Heck if I know. It could be. I don't know it isn't."

She was trying not to smile. "Fine. Just one time. Don't let anyone catch you with it and finish it before you're back in your cell."

"You got it, toots." Bill glided past her.

He slipped from the cafeteria into the nurse's office before his guards could catch sight of his illicit drink. "Hey, bartender! I'm here for my nightcap."

The nurse prepared Bill's evening battery of drugs. He bent his straw into a fun zigzag—honestly it was really more of a sad N shape—slurped down half the eyedrops, and opened his soda to refill his cup.

The nurse looked over at the hiss of the cap opening. "Hey! Hey—"

"It's just soda!" Bill protested. "The cafeteria monitor said it was fine! Besides, what's a little soda gonna do? Nullify all seven of my antipsychotics before I reach my cell?" (Bill had overheard the nurse grumbling to a colleague about the amount of antipsychotics he was on. They thought it was utterly excessive, considering that they'd had no evidence the drugs were doing anything but making him more erratic—which was something, because Bill had seen patients near drooling catatonia from their meds without any of the nurses questioning their current dosage. Conversely, the docs thought Bill's odd biology meant they needed to give him more if they wanted any hope of impacting him.) "Come on. It's not even caffeinated!"

The nurse took the soda bottle to check the ingredient list, then relented. "Fine. I suppose it won't do any harm."

"You're a peach." Bill topped off his cup, poured the rest of the soda over his eye, crushed the bottle, and consumed it too.

"The plastic probably isn't good for you, though."

"I like the way it melts in the back of my throat."

As he drank his medicated soda and got escorted back to his cell, he lazily drifted back and forth in the hall as far as the guards would let him go, dawdling more than usual—he knew they hated it when he dawdled, but they knew he hated spending one second more in his cell than necessary and grudgingly put up with a little lollygagging to keep the peace. But their tolerance ran out in the max security hall as Bill slowed down even further near The Beast's cell. The guard behind Bill pushed him. "Hurry up."

"Hey!" Bill wobbled off path and stumbled into the wall, spilling some of his drink. "What's your problem!"

"You stopped moving."

"I did not! I'm just taking my time! Enjoying the weather out here."

"Well, take less time."

"Ugh, fine. Didn't realize you had plans I'm keeping you from." Bill rolled his eye and kept moving.

"Hold it!"

Bill froze. He turned around. The guard was pointing at a streak of clear fluid that had spilled from Bill's cup and rolled down the door. His bones frosted over.

"You dropped a pill," the guard said.

Bill's gaze focused on the circular soap-green tablet on the floor. "Are you kidding?! Aren't the other twelve enough?"

"No exceptions, Cipher."

"You don't expect me to eat it off the floor!"

"Do you want to go all the way back to the nurse's office for another?"

Bill groaned in frustration. "Fine!" He snatched it up, wiped it off on the guard's sleeve, and popped it in his mouth. The guard raised a fist; Bill bared his fangs; and after a tense moment, the guard backed down first. The Theraprism had taken nearly every other power from Bill, but it couldn't take his teeth—and though he knew the guards would win any fight, Bill could make it hurt.

They returned him to his room; Bill handed over his cup; they checked to make sure his cup was empty, inspected his mouth, and locked him in.

He hoped they wouldn't notice that half his pills had stuck in the zig-zag bend of the opaque white straw.

He hoped they wouldn't notice The Beast's tongue thrusting through his food slot to lap up the spilled soda that was running down his door and over the bright red "NO SUGAR ALLOWED" sign.

His entire plan hinged on it.

####

Bill was drawing on the wall with his scant art supplies when he felt reality ripple around him, like the wave in a still pool when someone new quietly slides into the water. He looked up from his work. It was happening.

There were several thuds; then a crash; and then the peal of a prison alarm piercing the air. The alarm melted into shrill dolphin-like laughter, and then the frenetic staccato of a hyper speed dance song that threatened to fracture Bill's internal organs. He shuddered as the sound tore at his wound like freezing ice crystals expanding a crack in a boulder.

But he rose into the air and turned to face the door, ready.

Just in time for the door to vanish. The Theraprism melted away like mist in the sunlight—and oh, the sunlight was glorious. The wide open sky pulsed maddening colors so vivid that the faraway rainbows looked monotone in comparison; the land consisted of rolling hills of candy-coated tongues and stomachs and muscles, the paws of enormous buried corpses thrusting up into the sky, the crevasses between burial mounds running with artificially-flavored saliva. It was Bill's kind of place. He wished he had time to hang around.

Before him, orange fur matted with a fine dust of powdery sugar, wild eyes contracted to pinpricks, stood The Beast.

"You did it, you beautiful monster!" Bill shrieked with laughter. "I knew you'd come through!"

The Beast rumbled, "Em deerf evah uoy."

"You're welcome! You can return the favor later! Me, I have somewhere to be." While The Beast was asserting his personal reality on top of the Theraprism's idea of reality, none of the Theraprism's walls or doors existed. Bill wasn't sure exactly how far The Beast's radius of influence extended, except that it was at least far enough to get him out of the maximum security hall—but he had to move now, before the guards rallied to sedate The Beast. Bill slipped a finger into the band of his ankle bracelet and found that under the influence of The Beast's physics, the stiff plastic stretched like a warm rubber band. He tugged it off and tossed it aside. "Seeya, pal!"

But The Beast held up a paw, blocking Bill before he could zip off. "Noob ym tpecca," The Beast said. "Hself ym emusnoc."

"Oooh. Woww." Bill looked at The Beast's candy paw. "Oh, man. Generous offer! You have no idea how tempting it is to take a taste, but I've really gotta get somewhere, and I've gotta be at least sober enough to pull that off..."

"Emusnoc," The Beast insisted. "Hsur ragus eht fo ssendam gnilims citatsce eht ni em nioj. Rehtegot srorroh letsap dna serusaelp kcis hcus wonk lliw ew. Evarg lufituaeb ym ni em htiw tor."

Bill stared again at the paw. The tip of his tongue slipped out beneath his eye to lick hungrily at his waterline. When was the last time he'd been on something that felt good? "Oh, what the heck!" He took The Beast's paw. "I can do this buzzed! How much damage can one little lick do, anyway?"

####

The guard heaved open the maximum security hall's door. The floor was covered in tacky pools of neon candy and removed ankle monitors. "It's just like we feared," the guard shouted into a walkie-talkie, glancing quickly through each cell door's window. "Every single max security patient escaped under The Beast's reality-altering field."

The guard stopped at the sight of neon yellow and orange, peering through the window at the triangle flopped flat on the ground and surrounded by powdery pink sugar.

"Well," the guard said, "all of them except Cipher."

Through the walkie-talkie, D-SM5 tiredly said, "He licked the paw, didn't he."

"Looks like it, boss."

D-SM5 groaned. "All right! Positive thinking! That's the second biggest threat in the ward already accounted for! Silver lining to Mr. Cipher's substance use issues. Assist in securing the others."

####

The good news was that The Beast seemed happy to frolic randomly around the Theraprism rather than head toward the exit, forcing the other escapees to follow along to remain under his reality-altering protection rather than get stranded in small rooms and locked-down halls. The bad news was that his meandering route let him pick up more and more revelers. After an hour, only a third of the max security patients had been re-captured and dragged back to their cells, and twice as many medium security patients had joined the riot.

A-AOX4 was on hand in the maximum security hall to supervise as the guards brought in super-powered escapees. Most of them came back loopy on either The Beast's toxins or on the sedative that had been injected to keep them calm. A-AOX4 was checking them for awareness of their surroundings—name, where are you, when are you, why are you here—as each one was locked back in their cell.

And each time it passed by Bill's cell, it glanced in, concerned.

Bill had been almost pleasant when he'd come out of the Solitary Wellness Void—maybe after all those sessions in isolation he was finally ready to be more of a team player. And D-SM5 had said that he'd been unusually well-behaved and attentive during the reincarnation. A-AOX4 had hoped their most surly patient was finally opening up. It would be a shame if this incident with The Beast resulted in his new progress backsliding.

Plus, it took a heavy dose of anything to impact Bill at all, much less knock him out cold. He'd already had to go to the nurse earlier today; what if he needed medical attention?

So after locking up the latest subdued prisoner, A-AOX4 said to one of the guards, "Take over monitoring incoming patients. I'm checking on Cipher."

It unlocked the door and hovered into the room. "Cipher?"

No response. He was plastered flat to the floor.

"Bill?" It floated lower to check his condition.

He was paper.

Paper meticulously colored in with yellow marker and folded into a triangle; scraps of paper colored black, carefully torn into hand and feet shapes, and shoved in the sleeves and pants of his prison uniform.

A-AOX4 lifted up the paper. On the other side was Bill's "Be a TRY-angle!" poster. He'd written across it, "IS THIS TRYING HARD ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

It turned toward the door—and discovered Bill had filled the wall with a drawing of himself making an obscene gesture, with a word bubble that read, "GIVE MY REGARDS TO THE AX! And tell Jessica I said bye xoxo"

It zoomed out into the hallway and grabbed its walkie-talkie. "Director SM5! Cipher's escaped his cell! He left a decoy! He's not with The Beast, we don't know where he is!"

There was a moment of dead air. And then the director growled, "I think I have an idea."

####

Trying to keep his giggles as quiet as possible, Bill looped through the Theraprism's halls, drifting between The Beast's rolling fields of hard candy corpses and the Theraprism's rigid monotone halls. What had he been worried about! Getting hopped up on astralplanar sugar before escaping his cell had been a great idea! It gave him instant shortcuts through half the walls! And he could handle a little buzz like this! He was totally in control of his actions and knew exactly what he—

How long had he been flying the wrong direction? He turned around. Wow was he high, he could barely focus on anything but all the colors. He wondered if The Beast's toxins had any weird interactions with his meds.

He was lucky The Beast had decided to dawdle around the Dimensional Tyrants Ward: here at the far end of the Theraprism, there were no signs of crisis beyond the sealed doors indicating the facility was under lockdown—and once he was outside a high security ward, there were plenty of cracks, gaps, and vents that Bill was thin enough to slide through. He hadn't even seen a guard since he'd left his cell. By the time he reached the reincarnation room, The Beast's landscape was fading out and the sugar crash headache was fading in, but the facility was still on lockdown and no one seemed to be looking for Bill. He slipped beneath the locked door and powered up the console to the reincarnation machine.

He skipped straight to the reincarnation program and checked the box that said, yes, the patient's brain had been washed. He paused when a warning pop-up blocked the screen. The technician hadn't gotten a pop-up. He had to read over the two-sentence warning three times before he understood what he was looking at. The soul sanitization routine hadn't been run recently, was he sure the patient's memory was erased—ugh, yes. He irritably clicked the confirmation and hoped that would be the last of it.

Bill quickly selected Earth and dimension 46'\; he tabbed past the coordinates and date, and they both automatically filled in "DEFAULT." D-SM5 had said the computer would make a "random" decision if you didn't plug in a time and place, but the staff didn't know Earth like Bill did. If he left the time and place up to the whims of fate, then something as weird as a trillion-year-old alien chaos god escaping a criminal insane asylum to spontaneously generate as a fully grown mortal would be sucked straight into the weirdest place and time on Earth. Gravity Falls: August, 2012. Weirdmageddon. He was willing to bet his life on it.

He was betting his life on it.

After that, with any luck, he'd be able to shed his new body like any other puppet and return to his castle in the sky. If for some reason he couldn't get out of it, he'd only need to pull a couple of magic tricks outside a normal mortal's capabilities to catch his past self's attention, find a way to prove his identity—heck, with any luck, they'd be seeing through each other's eyes and that would instantly confirm it—warn his past self about the Pines' treachery, prevent his own death, save Weirdmageddon, restructure the universe in his image, and rule his new party paradise as god-king for all eternity. Easy.

He scrolled down the list of available creatures, looking for something that would be easy to reach the Fearamid and prove his intelligence with—something with vocal cords that could speak eye-bat would be useful, it'd save him a lot of trouble if he could just shout at his sentinels in their own language and startle them into listening—but, to his surprise, the first useful species he found was humans, down amongst the species that had received a single-digit number of reincarnations from the Theraprism. Really, humans? They allowed that?

Over the blaring alarm, a voice made an announcement. He completely tuned it out—and only realized a moment after it ended that he'd heard his own name. They knew he'd escaped.

Bill didn't have time to search for anything better. He selected humanity.

He tabbed past dozens of features he could choose from for his body—default default default default—who cared what the body peed out of, he wasn't keeping the thing long enough to fill its bladder! He clicked open the advanced settings—there, spontaneous generation! He hoped this thing wouldn't drop him on the sidewalk as a baby, but usually when a human suddenly popped into existence, it was an adult sculpted from clay or something, right? He'd be fine! He checked the box for spontaneous generation.

He got another error message. He groaned. He wasn't sober enough for this.

Something about spontaneous generation being banned on Earth after 1859, is he willing to assume the liability if the patient generates after—yeah sure whatever, he clicked yes. Another pop-up prompted him for the digital signature of the person assuming liability. He typed in D-SM5's name.

As soon as he clicked enter, another error message popped up. "What!!"

He flinched at the sound of a muffled pneumatic hiss. Outside, somebody had unlocked the doors to this hallway. The alarm was still blaring; the Theraprism wasn't coming off lockdown. That meant whoever had unlocked the hall was coming for him.

"Focusss." He skimmed the new warning. Something about humans being on a list of species for which spontaneous generation was restricted—what loser had written a law about that! Who cared if a fully-formed, brand-new human popped out of thin air in the middle of town! What about Bill's wants?! He checked another box YES HE'S SURE HE WANTS TO SPONTANEOUSLY GENERATE A HUMAN YOU MONSTER and pounded enter.

Another pop-up. It wanted to know on which god's authority the spontaneous generation had been authorized.

Bill froze. Why did it need to know. Would it check? A machine that could reincarnate a soul was probably also a machine that could shoot off a prayer. Or was Bill supposed to have some kind of divine authorization code? Which gods were even allowed to authorize that kind of thing? He didn't know which stupid legislative body had made this stupid law or what their stupid definition of a god was! Gods weren't even real, they were just stupid, arrogant, stuck-up jerks who were powerful enough to trick people into thinking they were important! Like Bill! What name were they looking for?!

He heard voices in the hallway. He darted over to the door, slid his fingers through the seams around the doorframe to crush the latching mechanism so it couldn't be opened, and darted back. That wouldn't hold them long; he knew from experience that the guards could bust down the doors in these low security wings without much difficulty.

"Bill Cipher!" That was D-SM5. It had come personally? In any other circumstance, he'd be flattered. "Open up immediately!"

"Has that ever worked?" A god, a god, a god... his eye caught on the bas relief at the back of the next room. If there was any god this place would accept orders from... The guards were ramming the door; the bending metal groaned. He typed "THE AXOLOTL" and hit enter.

The button grayed out but the pop-up didn't go away. The screen froze. "What." Bill tried clicking again. The cursor turned into one of those little spinning balls that meant the computer was quietly having a stroke. "No no no no—"

D-SM5 hollered, "You know what the consequences will be if you don't—"

"I'm not listeniiing to yooou!"

"You're only going to hurt yourse—"

Dropping his voice to a demonic boom to drown out the director, Bill recited, "'I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited! People were not—" There was a shriek of tearing metal, and then a bright glow behind Bill as D-SM5 peered through the gap in the door. Bill started talking faster, "'Were not invited they went there they got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow—'"

The pop-up disappeared. The cursor returned to normal. The box next to spontaneous generation was checked. Bill stared for a split second, then quickly closed out the advanced settings, scrolled to the bottom of the page, and hit "EXECUTE."

Someone blasted the door out of its frame; based on the blinding glow that accompanied the blast, Bill suspected that wasn't one of the guards, but D-SM5 itself. He frantically clicked through the next two confirmations, flung a couple of folding chairs toward D-SM5 and its thugs, and dove beneath the door to the next room. Ten seconds.

"Cancel the reincarnation!" D-SM5 snapped.

A guard ran to the console. (What if they saw where Bill had gone? They could probably guess the planet, but would the computer keep records of his destination, what his new body looked like—) "I don't see a cancel! I don't think—"

"Then get him off the altar!"

Five seconds. Please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please— Bill hadn't broken the door between the observation room and the altar; the guards easily unlocked it. "No no no—!"

"Don't let him esc—!"

Three seconds. An impossibly bright light shone down on Bill. He reflexively peeled open his exoskeleton to accept it. LIGHT—oh, he felt even more alive than the time he'd stolen a bottle of stimulants from the nurse station, ground them up, and snorted them off Mrs. Mirrorcube's back. His eye widened, taking in as much free energy as he could—and then he focused his gaze through the window on the console, focusing the infinite light into a laser powerful enough to instantly melt through the window and explode the computer. The guards fell back, trying to shield their tender mortal flesh from the fury of Bill's fire. Enjoy the blisters.

D-SM5 bellowed, "Bill Cipher, you mo—!"

"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SUCKA!" He could feel his body ripping apart, cracking open at the wound. It hurt, but not the hurt of dying; it was the euphoric hurt of spaghettification, of being infinitely sucked beyond a beautiful event horizon. Bill's triumphant cackle filled the air—

—and then the room was silent and dark, and Bill was gone.

####

(If you're new here: I posted this as a one shot because I think we could all use a little Bill escaping from Theraprism, yeah? However it's ALSO part of my ongoing Bill-stuck-in-a-human-body fic I'm currently editing for TBOB compatibility. So, if you enjoyed this and want to see where post-reincarnation Bill goes, check out the fic!! And if you DON'T want to read the rest of the fic, I hope you enjoyed the one shot and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

If you do check out the main fic be forewarned it's only 100% TBOB compatible up to chapter 6. After that it is, bizarrely, 98% TBOB compatible, because somehow I accidentally wrote a fic that lines up with the book so well that I'm legit worried people could use TBOB to work out fic spoilers. But I still need to edit the remaining 2%.

If you're NOT new here: hey gang this is the new chapter 6!!! I finished editing this chapter about fifteen minutes before post time so it's not as polished as my usual chapters, but I hope it didn't read that way. Anyway, I look forward to hearing what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #theraprism #the book of bill #the book of bill spoilers #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(posting this like a oneshot because it basically is and i want people to be able to read it like a one shot)#(however it's ALSO the new chapter six)

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cosmictheo · 5 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 & 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray-457-canon )

—summary: between the chaos of the rebellion, in-ho finally reveals who he really is and tests you to see whether you are ready to take him exactly as he is, in all his glory and power. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 5k (wow) —warnings: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, some porn with some plot, fingering, power dynamics, dom in-ho!!!, body worship, praise kink, obsessive & possessive behavior, straight up manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader as usual, he wants that cookie so bad, use of guns, gunshots, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ✶ part one ── part two

Everything was pure chaos. You could hear gunshots, screams, rushing footsteps, grunts of pain, the sickening sound of the bullet piercing flesh as you walked through the brightly colored corridors of the horrific, bloody place, a place that had turned into a war zone in the last thirty minutes.

Gi-hun had decided to rebel against the guards, creating an effective plan that had worked, as unbelievable as it seemed. Other players supported him in his idea, having his back through the war zone and basically just shooting everyone who didn't have a player number on their clothing.

In-ho guided you with assured steps, holding your hand tightly, stepping in front of you to shield you at all costs, and that if any of his guards were stupid enough to shoot in your direction, then he might as well take the bullet for you.

You didn't quite understand the reason why In-ho had separated from Gi-hun and the main group, nor did you understand the way his face had somehow suddenly morphed, turning authoritative and somber. Sure, he had said he knew a way to go around the pack of guards that blocked them from getting through to the main control room of the game's higher-ups, but how could he possibly know that? You had been by his side the whole time and never really had the spare moment to study and memorize the maze-like passageways, they all looked pretty much the same.

You had a theory, but you didn't really even want to consider it, it was wild, totally insane. Only someone who worked there would know precisely which way to go and which corner to turn.

There wasn't enough time for you to stop and demand some explanation from him either, so you just followed him around like a lost little puppy, strolling through the endless corridors of the place, stepping up some stairs until you reached an area that seemed absolutely off-limits for someone like you to trespass.

“In-ho?” you tried to call his name, walking up some more stairs, your fingers entwined between his, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

But he didn't stop, turning yet another corner, until you reached what looked like an elevator.

“Mhm? I'm here, don't separate from me, yeah?” he replied without paying too much attention to you, he didn't have to actually glance at you to know that you were scared, full of uncertainty and hesitation.

“Where are we?” you tried to ask once you two stopped in front of the elevator, you turn your head to look at him, eyes big and puzzled, “We can't leave the others...”

He finally drags his attention to you and his expression instantly softens, pulling your hand up with his to press soothing tiny kisses on your knuckles, restraining the urge to crack a smirk at the sight of your pretty face all scared and anxious. He could already feel himself harden in his pants from seeing your lips curl into a small pout.

“They'll be fine, nothing will happen to them”

The loud beep of the elevator pierces the tense silence and it almost makes you jolt, pulling your gaze up to the reddish light flashing on in front of you once the doors open. The gunshots can now be heard far off in the distance.

In-ho begins to step into it, but when he feels your hand pull his, he spins to look back at you, finding you still stood in the same spot, your arm straightened, fingers grasping his, and you look up at him with conflicted eyes, pleading for his mercy.

Quite literally, you stand firm on your spot, but at the same time, you hold his hand tightly and longingly.

“I need you to be safe, angel,” he began to tell you, trying to convince you, to follow him, to stay by his side, just as you had been doing so far, why would you stop now? “You are not safe here, with all those savages on the loose with guns, they are dangerous”

His expression darkens with revulsion, spitting out the words as if they were poison. You assumed he was referring to the guards...

“But my friends...” you mumbled, turning your head to look back, listening to the gunshots in the distance, beyond the long corridors, as if they somehow were somewhere else already, far away from you, an unreachable place.

In-ho placed his other hand on your chin, leaning closer to you and making you face him again, his thumb brushed the outline of your lower lip.

“Friends?” he grumbled the word with irony rolling off his tongue, his warm breath rasped against your mouth, his eyes gazed into yours with genuine hurt, he looked utterly disappointed by your words, “I'm the only one who cares about you here.”

Your lips half-opened as you held eye contact, scarcely whispering, as if someone else could hear you, “I know, but—”

“You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved,” his voice uttered your name like something familiar, something he longed for, he craved, “Are you really willing to die for them? People who wouldn't give a penny for you? They are killing each other for money, not for friends, not for love. They are here for the money and they don't need you. You know it, come on, you're a smart girl,” he lifted his eyebrows, his other hand dropping yours and climbing up through your body to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him, not wanting you to avert your gaze from him, “Would you die for them?”

You shook your head lightly, bearing in mind the weight of his words and absolutely locked in the darkness of his eyes, absorbing you in, “No”

He smiled, pleased by your answer and he kissed your lips once to praise you, his tongue lightly skimming the edge of your pouted lips, “Then, would you live for me?”

What he was telling you was crystal clear, it had a special significance, a special complicity, an intimacy there was between you.

To die for someone was not as meaningful as to live for them, to make them the purpose of life, to know what they were, what they had in their heart and beyond, and to love them anyway, to stay by their side, to be loyal to them and choose them above all else.

“Yes,” you breathed out before kissing him so passionately, looping your arms around his neck and just before you could jump his bones, In-ho stopped you, reluctantly detaching himself from you, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and squeezing you against his body, his forehead pressed onto yours for a few seconds, recomposing himself.

“That's my girl,” he gently kissed the corner of your mouth before tugging your hands and leading you with him into the elevator, at last, “Let's put all this behind us, hm? We have to stop them, otherwise no one else will.”

But you wanted him, somehow, you pushed all the killing and the blood behind and then suddenly, it was all him, the way he was gazing at you, how his hand went wrapped around your waist, hand sliding down to your ass to pat it twice, almost in a reprimanding way as he felt your soft lips attach on his neck when the elevator started to go up. You had to wonder how it was possible that the mechanism could carry the full weight of your craving and lust.

“Baby,” In-ho snapped in a disapproving voice, yet he lifted his chin, giving you more free access to his neck, his eyes closing as he felt your tongue sweep across his throat. He patted your ass once more, a little harder now, fingers clutching your hip tightly, “behave”

His hoarse, authoritative voice took you by surprise, causing you to inch away from him, looking up at him with big eyes darkened with desire, your hand lingering on his shoulder, squeezing it with eagerness.

“There's a slaughter going on out there and all you can think about is my cock slamming inside your little pussy, hm?” his gruff voice pronouncing those nasty words made your pussy twitch, your body aching for him by carnal instinct, “My girl's a filthy little slut...”

Before you could respond, the elevator doors swung open and the digital panel on the side indicated that you had gone up two floors, signaling that the place was much, much bigger than you thought.

In-ho pulled your hand gently, taking you with him through a dark hallway, until you entered a main room of an seemingly apartment, spacious and elegant. The sofas were of velvet, the walls black as midnight, a large screen hung on one of the walls, the lights hung in fancy chandeliers above your head. It resembled a suite of the most luxurious hotel.

He stepped closer to you from behind, predatory-like, sliding his veiny hands around your waist and pushing you softly to pace forward, his wet lips latching onto your shoulder and neck, making you sigh tremblingly.

“Do you like it?” he asked in a whisper, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of your tracksuit pants, "I had it fixed and cleaned for you"

“What is this place?” you asked him back, your eyes narrowed as you took cautious steps, your legs wobbly from all the goosebumps that ran through you from head to toe with every kiss he pressed against the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, unleashing a rush of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

His long, slender fingers caressed your lower tummy with affection and to give you a convincing answer, he kissed your skin one more time, before detaching his mouth from you, just barely, “Your home, princess. Isn't it what you always wished for?” a dark smile tugged at his lips, his fingertips slipping under your shirt, triggering goosebumps along your skin beneath his touches on your stomach. “A spacious and expensive place, that's what you said when they asked you what you wanted to do with the prize.”

“It's beautiful,” you awed, raising your big, marveling eyes to the gorgeous crystal chandelier just above you.

“A pretty home for a pretty girl,” he rustled against the side of your neck, too intertained in kissing and marking it with possession, “It's all yours— I'm all yours.”

A sheepish smile stretched wide on your lips as you felt In-ho pushing you with his body once more, urging you to walk towards the center of the suite, descending down two stairs until you stood in front of a set of sofas, with a dark glass table in the center, on it laid two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey.

Why would you ever need to care about anything else, anyone else? When you had him, this precious place and his heart, body and soul to offer. All for you.

You turned on your heels to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to you. Before he could even gasp for breath, you kissed him, supplying him with your breath, your oxygen. And what else did he really need to live?

His fingers went up to his neck, sneaking between your bodies so that he could begin to unzip the jacket of his tracksuit, pulling away from you just a little and hissing as he felt your fingers tugging at his hair.

In-ho nibbled on your lower lip as he ended the long, passionate kiss, making you wail against his mouth, “We've got to be quick, baby, I've got to take care of the mess out there. They are waiting for my command.”

He was the leader, of course, how had you even missed that little detail?

And of course he was, it all made sense now.

The thought of him in the dark suit, with a black mask, giving commands and having the entire place running under his authority made your whole body flush, core aching for him, for some friction, anything he might give you.

You kissed him again, momentarily thinking that with every kiss someone was dead, a bullet was shot and blood sprayed. But the blaze inside you, the heat pumping through your veins and the way your pussy was weeping for him didn't let you have more than one single thought in your head that wasn't him.

Your head was possessed, your body submitted to him and your heart clutched in his hands. And all his undivided attention was on you, no matter that his place was under threat or that his guards were out there fighting, dying for him, no, all he could possibly afford to focus on was you.

So, soon In-ho had ripped your clothes off you, leaving you exposed, on full display for his dark, deep gaze to consume every inch in. Your arched back pressed against the velvety smooth back of the black sofa, his body right in front of you, like a starving predator. He was drinking a sip of Whiskey from his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

You blushed under his hungry gaze and motioned to close your knees, squeeze them together, but he was quick to lean down and rest a hand on one of them, caressing it affectionately and clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

Tch, tch, tch.

“You should have no shame, you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen,” he reassured you, setting the now empty glass back down on the glass table, letting out a shaky breath, “there isn't a moment when I'm not thinking about it, touching it, kissing it, fucking it...”

You threw your head back, panting as you felt In-ho's mouth kiss your ankle, caressing your leg with his fingers as he pulled it gently, forcing you to open them, with him standing right in between them. The gates of heaven unlocking for him.

“So fucking pretty”

He kept whispering over and over again, staring at your body in awe, as if you were the most beautiful work of art ever to be exhibited.

“My pretty baby”

He praised you and praised you and praised you, pressing kisses to your legs, your knees, your thighs, tongue flicking across little scars that cut into your skin, most likely as a consequence of one of the games.

“There she is... so pretty— shit”

He drunkenly muttered over your cunt, gazing at it throbbing and clenching around nothing.

Your scent was intoxicating and overpowering. He felt so weak and insignificant in front of the greatness of your body, the warmth it gave him, the beauty of your skin, your curves, welcoming him inside, calling for his name.

“In-ho” you breathed out, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, feeling the way your wetness trickled down between your legs, dripping to the surface of the couch.

You were soaked, drenched, so sensitive to his touch and every little friction. And he had barely touched you.

“Mhm,” he hummed at your call, reaching with his path of sloppy kisses and wet licks all the way up your inner thigh. Your whole body buzzed as you felt his tongue swipe up your slick folds, getting a wet squelchy sound and he laughed huskily, looking up at you, “You're soaking wet,” he marveled, pressing the tip of his finger against your pussy, his thumb teasing just right your aching, swollen clit, instantly getting a whimper out of you.

The finger slid inside so smoothly and shamelessly that it had him choking back a groan.

“Could you take all of me right now?” his voice cracked, words crawling up his throat like groans, so hoarse and deep that it sent vibrations through your center throughout your body, “I don't think we have much time to play”

You were nodding your head the second he finished speaking, your throat making a whining noise that made him crack a smile as he gently placed a kiss once on your cunt, fingertips tenderly caressing the inside of your thigh.

“Yeah? Can you take me?” In-ho asked you once again, in a quiet tone now, your name uttered slowly through his lips, like a longing, a craving, a religion. His eyes softened completely once they met yours again, his fingertips tapped seductively the sensitive, flushed skin of your thigh, “Talk to me, baby”

In-ho was well aware of the hold he had over you, he had the ultimate power and you were shamelessly crawling all over him, profiting from the fact that you would do whatever he asked. Live, lie, kill....

“Y-yes!” you instantly replied between babbles and sniffles, your hands reaching for him, revealing the deep, raw desperation that was making your body tremble, “Please, In-ho, sir, p-please—”

In-ho's pupils dilated so much that all of his orbs looked pitch-black as he lifted and leaned over you to press a kiss on your lips, “You don't need to convince me, princess. If you want it, you got it”

He swiftly removed his whitish shirt, now ruined and stained with someone else's blood, maybe from one of his guards, it didn't matter, what really mattered was the way his skin glowed under the dim golden light and how his chest broadened with every breath he inhaled, your lips parted as you saw how toned and hardened his abdomen was. He looked... exquisite, glorious and majestic standing before you, ready to devour you.

When he pulled down his pants and boxers, your mouth watered with drool and your eyes widened in wonder at the sight of his size. He was big, bigger than you expected, perhaps. His length was impressive and his girth was just perfect, a bulging vein traced from the base to the engorged, leaking head, and you could see it throbbing.

You felt your mouth watering, starving, but when you reached out your hand to his cock, In-ho backed away from your eager touch, making you look up at him with a pouty face, mumbling words like a spoiled brat.

“I want to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed in an all too calm tone, leaning over the couch towards you to place a kiss on your sweaty forehead, positioning himself between your legs, one hand holding the length of his cock and the other reassuringly caressing your hip, “you got me right here, can't you feel me?” his hand travelled up your body to delicately stroke a strand of hair off your pretty, blushing face. “Aw, don't be so eager. I think I've spoiled you too much, hm?”

You gulped hard as he lined up his plump tip against your wet entrance, your whole body buzzing as you felt him press against your eager little hole, prepared to take whatever he gave it. But it was unlikely that you could be prepared to take something that big.

In-ho sighed shudderingly as well, just barely easing his head inside you, stretching you so, so good and slowly began to push his way through your warm, spongy walls. You gasped several little whimpers, looking up at the ceiling, as if somehow that would help you stop feeling the stabbing pain that spread inside you with every inch he pushed his length in.

“You have to loosen up for me, angel— hah—” he croaked out between gasps, squeezing his eyes shut for a few long seconds, letting himself be enveloped in the overwhelming hot, tight sensation that was your pussy clenching him, “hm— you have to let me in— fuck, you're so tight—”

In-ho pulled out, hissing between his teeth, lazily gripping his shaft, the tip running up and down your slit, gathering some of your wetness.

At your whining and complaining, he pressed again into your center, staring in awe as your hole struggled to swallow his plump head, stretching out your pussy so much.

He stopped right there, halting his hips, his head hardly inside you, your pussy fluttering and drawing him deeper inside, giving you a few moments to get used to his size. Your hands went to land on his forearms on either side of your hips, squeezing him desperately.

As he tightened his grip on your hips, impeding you from wiggling away from him, In-ho hovered over you, catching your lips with his to muffle your whimpers with his own throat, thrusting achingly slow his hips and sinking inch by inch inside you.

“In-ho” you moaned his name, your nails digging into his skin on his arms, feeling so full, helplessly overwhelmed under him. Everything was him, everywhere around you, “Please—”

Then he kissed your cheekbones, wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes with his lips, bathing your skin with his drool instead, “Don't think, baby, you don't have to think about anything,” he murmured against your mouth, “just take me, yeah? Let me in”

The response he received was blubbering of unintelligible words and whimpers from you, blending in with the squelching sounds of your pussy stretching out for his cock. And that was music to his ears, the most delightful melody.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, I'll take care of it all” he promised you in a gentle whisper and he is so tender, affectionately caressing the flesh on the side of your upper thigh just before giving it a quick spank, feeling the soft flesh jiggle under the palm of his hand, “Just like that”

He was so tender, giving you two minutes to adjust to his size before ramming the entire remaining length of his cock inside you, the bulbous head of his cock digging it's own way within your velvety walls and reaching so deep inside you that all the air was knocked out of your lungs. All too soon, you were a bawling, moaning mess, so loud and whiny for him.

“There you go, so good, so tight— fuck” In-ho dropped his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, drunkenly babbling words, intoxicated by the feeling of you everywhere, “Just fucking made for me, hm?”

“'Tis all—” you hiccupped, back arching impossibly for him, gazing up at him with adulatory, pleasure-darkened eyes, pounding you into heaven with each luscious thrust of his hips against yours, the bumping sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing against the walls. Slap, slap, slap. “All for you, In-ho— oh!”

You struggled to even use your brain to conjugate proper phrases, occasionally slurring nonsense words.

Your ass and thighs jiggled with each intense thrust, his flesh slamming against yours, the very noise itself sounding pronographic, sloppy and filthy. You could feel your lower body begin to slide down across the velvety surface of the sofa, your skin wet and slippery from all the mixture of body fluids.

So, he scooped you up in his arms, manhandling you back in your position under him on the couch as easily as if he was swinging a feather around, he even made your head bump against the back of the sofa with a particularly harsh thrust, his cock already recognizing it's own shape carved inside you.

His dark gaze dropped to your stomach, noticing the sway of himself under your soft, sweaty skin, his eyes following the motion of the bulge adoringly.

In-ho pulled one of his hands up from your waist, beginning to slide it across your skin on your lower stomach and he swoon as he heard your blubbering whimpers at the pressure of his palm on your tummy, both of you sensing the press.

“In-ho, G-god, I can't— ngh—” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and closing them tight, feeling your insides tightening up. “You're so— hah— deep”

“I'm right here” he awed in a quivering, raw adoring whisper, feeling his own cock twitch inside you under the palm of his hand. “Does it feel good, baby?”

You immediately nodded your head, taking in the way his eyes roamed upward across your bulging stomach, past the way your tits jiggled with the power of his own motions.

“I bet it does”

You promptly reopened your eyes and he grunted when the static noise of the radio perched on the crystal table at the couch's side erupted in the sultry room, snapping him out of the mindspace of worshipping your body, just as his lips had parted to suck on one of your tits.

You both swung your heads towards the radio, but In-ho— so ruthless, did not stop his fierce thrusts against your hips, his veiny hands contouring your waist, marking your skin.

“Young-il?” the voice of Gi-hun burst into the room, calling your name more times than In-ho would liked, “Where are you? You're attacking already?”

In-ho just smirked, stretching out and reaching for the small radio over the table, leaving you a whimpering mess as you felt his cock dragging along between your gummy walls.

“Answer him,” he then commanded in a grunt, delivering you a particularly powerful thrust that made you see stars, on his hand he held the radio, right above your face.

“W-what?” you hiccupped, eyes flooding with hot tears, out of pleasure, embarrassment, by the whirlwind of thrills that was shaking your body into submission to his.

In-ho cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him, offering no truce with his savage thrusts, the plump head of his cock tapping your cervix, grinding into that special spongy spot that drove you closer to your climax.

“Tell him you're sorry,” he bent toward you, swiping his tongue along your cheekbone, mopping up a big tear that had slipped from your pretty eyes, “tell him the Frontman got you.”

With the very last of your remaining strength and control of your brain, you actually succeeded in formulating the words he wanted you to say, just as he pressed the voice transmitter button on the little radio.

“I'm sorry, Gi-hun” you blubbered out in between whimpers, and In-ho flashed a dark smile, dipping his head down to start kissing your neck sloppily, lips sucking at your skin until they left dark imprints, “he—”

“What happened?” Gi-hun asked worriedly from the other side, his voice came out desperate as he called your name, and you almost felt sorry for him, but In-ho's cock twitching inside you knocked all thoughts of heartache from you, making you bite your lower lip to choke back a hoarse moan.

He just felt so good, how could you think of anything other than his dick inside you?

“He got me”

“Who? Where are you? Tell me where you are—” he asked frantically, his voice full of desperation and concern.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt In-ho's mouth latch onto your nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue, his unoccupied hand landing on your other jiggling tit, squeezing just right.

“This fucking body....” he hummed more to himself than to you against the skin of your breasts, dampening it with his spit, “So pretty, so tight, all for me... I got you, I got you always”

“The Frontman, he got me— sorry, Gi-hun” you managed to utter, voice weepy, at least that part would be believable to player 456.

Then In-ho smiled darkly and brought the radio closer to his mouth, his warm breath brushing against your nipple, still looking at you as he spoke, his voice becoming gruff and almost unrecognizable, “You don't have to worry about her anymore, Gi-hun.”

“You sick bastard—”

In-ho turned off the radio, throwing it away, shattering a thousand pieces against the ground. And now, all his attention turned back to you.

Gi-hun's desperate words and suffering appeared to do the necessary effect on him to get his cock twitching inside you again, having you sniffling under him.

“Shh... baby, you're doing so good. You're my good girl, my favorite girl— mhm— yes you are,” he cooed, raising his hand and stroking your hair delicately, his other hand squeezed your hip, moving across your skin until he reached your lower stomach, applying a little pressure over your tummy to make you both gasp as you felt the push of his hand, “Now cum with me, yeah? I know you can do it, I know you can, you're my good girl— shit”

In-ho whimpered against your mouth, his fingers creeping down to your crotch in between your sticky bodies, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit just right and hardly ten seconds later, feelinf your walls constrict around him and seconds later, you both began cumming, riding your highs to reach climax.

He was pumping you with all he had to give, filling you with hot and heavy spurts of cum, making you feel so stuffed that the fluid begins to leak out your abused pussy, spilling down between the tangled mess of your legs onto the couch.

A minute long lingered in your post-orgasm ecstasy, slumping your head against the couch, struggling to catch your breath, every limb shuddering still by jolts of electricity racing through every vein, bone, and muscle. You felt yourself floating in the sky and didn't even feel how In-ho had been propped up against you, trying to level his breathing tucked tightly against your neck. It wasn't until he had gently kissed your skin and straightened up, suddenly pulling his softening cock out of you, very slowly and carefully, you snapped back to reality and down to the ground.

The "pop!" filthy sound and the sensation of his cum dripping down your thighs made you blush, feeling his eyes gawking at the way your gaping pussy was struggling to keep all his cum inside, so greedily.

He then scooped you up in his strong arms and carried you to a bedroom, whispering praises and soft words against your ear, all the way until he delicately laid you down on the bed.

Your hand sought his, halting his motion to move away from you, and he smiled softly, noting how you fought against the sudden, enormous exhaustion that had come over you like a flooding wave.

“I have to take care of the problem, my love, it won't take long, okay? When you wake up again I'll be by your side” he murmured, leaning down so he could kiss the knuckles of your hand, fingers affectionately caressing your smooth skin.

“Don't kill them,” your request made him look at you with a hint of disappointment, letting him know you still felt sorry for the players, how could you not? You were just so good, “They don't know what they're doing.”

But the sweet smile on In-ho's lips didn't even tremble, at your request, your demand, “You don't have to worry about them anymore. They're nothing,” then he moved closer, and kissed your forehead, ”And you're everything. You don't have to worry about nothing, right?”

“Right,” you replied, so naturally, even in that dozy, half-asleep state, still, your loyalty and trust was with him, a fond smile curved across your lips as you lay your head back against the fluffy pillows, drifting off to sleep as you felt his fingers tenderly caress the side of your face, “Thank you, In-ho.”

“Everything for my favorite girl” he promised against your skin.

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