#Dinner with the Birches

[angelicbloom]

Has aged but still good

Dinner with the Birches

Judd x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature for strong sexual language and content MINORS* Please do not read/interact

Fic length: 3.8k words

Warnings: Mentions Knife Play, Pet Play and Choking (Those cheeky Hormone Monsters eh ;) eyebrows eyebrows~)

Summary: You’re invited to dinner with the Birches, a very loving, kind and sex positive household. How will you fare as an easily embarrassed teen who just so happens to be crushing on their eldest son…

A/N: This is my first piece for Big Mouth! Cross posted from my ao3 account under the same title. Fic under the cut, enjoy :3

Keep reading

[gingersn4pp]

don't be so wasteful.

[chicory-and-birch]

"You can choose to be free, but it's last decision you'll ever make."

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊

[blackbirdffxiv]

⠂𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘⠐

[hxtties]

[lynxgirlpaws]

Me waiting in the rain at 6:37pm in November in Connecticut for a ride to come take me home from therapy really is something huh

[smallblueandloud]

feeling weirdly itchy tonight and i don't know why. last time i was weirdly itchy it was a freak allergic reaction but i have taken a zyrtec and i also have No Idea what i would be reacting to since i finished dinner at 7 pm and haven't eaten anything since or touched anything that i haven't touched a million times before.

my best guess is that either i kept my earrings in too long today (i just took them out, for the record) or i'm somehow reacting to the sweater i put on when i got home -- the sweater i've been wearing around my room for like a week. neither of these seem particularly plausible but i literally don't know what else it could be.

[butchershopscarnivorelife]

Keto & Carnivore Cooking with Pittsburgh Butchers and Birch Creek Farmery

Embracing a keto or carnivore lifestyle means focusing on high-quality meats, fats, and simple, satisfying meals. Pittsburgh Butchers and Birch Creek Farmery offer exceptional, locally-sourced meats perfect for these diets. Inspired by Dr. Ken Berry’s advice on keeping things simple and nutrient-dense, and the creative, joyful approach of Eat Happy Kitchen, here are three detailed, foolproof…

[eli-com]

Hiii!

I rewatched Big mouth season Six, and seeing Elioth Dad's and how he make his relationship with Diane strained, made me think of how innocent Reader would be uncomfortable and didn't want to be in the birch house with Judd's grandpa there 🫂

What do You think of Judd and his grandpa dynamic? I really love how You write him🫶

I think that Judd finds his grandpa funny sometimes.

Judd's a sucker for funny insults, whether they're directed at him, his friends, or even his family.

Though, the moment he knows they're making you uncomfortable? That's a different story. He can handle the insults, he knows that he can, and he knows his family doesn't take them to heart either. But you? Sweet, innocent you? Lovely, sensitive you, who could do no wrong in his eyes? Well, he can’t have that.

Judd’s a fan of violence, and well, so is his Grandpa. Maybe Judd’s not big on the ‘nipple twisting’ gig, but he’s definitely a fan of the tension it brings to the house. He finds it amusing how riled up his dad gets, and well, he enjoys seeing Nick squirm too, with his father and grandpa’s focus on him. Judd and his Grandpa get along on a surface level.

But, it’s not like Judd cares for his company. He couldn’t care less whether his Grandpa stays or goes… Either way, Judd’s usually alone in his room when he’s home, so he doesn’t have to worry about his grandpa’s controversial personality.

That is, until you come over.

Maybe you’d be having dinner with the family, and his grandpa makes a comment about how timid and quiet you are, how painfully shy you can be. And well, Judd knows how insecure you can get. He can tell from then on that you’re uncomfortable, even quieter than you usually would be. He hates that. For the time being, he’d simply tell the old man to shut up, maybe hold his knife in a ‘threatening’ way. Of course, his grandpa couldn’t care less.

He continues to make comments throughout dinner, and Judd has to do his best to keep some control. If it wasn’t for your sake, he would’ve jumped across the table hours ago and knocked the old man out, even worse than his father had. But he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that, knew it’d only make you feel worse.

Instead, he whisked you up to his room the moment dinner was over. He was always clingy with you when nobody else was around, but even more so now. His hands didn’t leave your body, and he spent hours worshipping you, letting you know how much he loved you, no matter how shy or timid you were. Those were some of his favourite things about you! Judd has never been good with words, usually relying on his actions to communicate, so that’s what he did.

Of course, he did his best to speak with you, asking if you were alright, coaxing you into communicating with him. But when you were like this, you seemed to just shut down; you didn’t want to come between him and his grandpa.

So, you stopped coming around so much. You’d come up with an excuse whenever he invited you over, insist he came over to your house instead. That broke his heart. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in his home. You were best friends with his sister, you even loved his overbearing parents and ass-hole little brother. You’d integrated yourself into their family, and now his Grandpa was pushing you away.

Judd… He wasn’t the kind of person to just sit back and let others ruin everything he’d worked for. It had taken a lot of work to get you out of your shell, to get you to warm up to not only him but his family too.

So maybe his raccoon’s had randomly started sneaking into his grandpa’s room, tearing up what little possessions he had and even leaving the old man with some scratches of his own every now and then. And maybe Judd had started coming up with all kinds of plans for how to get rid of the old man. He had plenty of ideas, but a lot of them weren’t legal, and he didn’t plan on going to prison. At least, not this early on in his life. The very day his grandfather had left, he'd made sure to invite you over. You'd been somewhat weary at first, timid and silent. But, after a while around his parents, there was a limit to how quiet you could really be. You were comfortable again soon enough, the dynamic returning to the way it had been before. Everything in his world was right again, and he couldn't be happier, even if he doesn't really show it on his face.

This isn't very good, but I'm really struggling with any writing motivation now. I WANT to write, especially now that the new/final season of Big Mouth is out and everybody has interest in Judd again, but I've just really hit a block </3

[vampirevatican]

Can you do a Judd birch alphabet? You can decide if it’s nsfw or not

I've decided to do both, so here's the...

SFW & NSFW JUDDPHABET

Affection

He's affectionate but it's mostly through actions. (i.e. dinner date from the valentines day episode) I think he'd have his hands on you in public but in subtle ways. Finger in the belt loop of your pants, arm around your waist, arm on the back of the couch when you both sit together.

Best friend

He's a good guy at his core. you can not talk me down from that hill So I think he'd make a great friend. Hell quite a few alt people are and that usually comes from their beliefs.

A great listener, doesn't solve the problem unless you're looking for a solution, would offer to go torch some abandoned building or some other crimes but is only dead set if you are and it'd actually help you feel better.

Cuddles

He's big spoon, loves when you guys get ready to sleep and you get as close as possible without him having to do it.

Dirty secret

He's actually a softie. You can't tell me that he's not. The raccoons, melon ball, Judd has a soft side and it's canon.

Experience (NSFW)

No, yeah, he's experienced. Sexual and Romantic. Two girlfriends shown in the show, or rather at least one girl that he planned a dinner date for that was kinda fancy? Which makes me think they would've had at least a year together.

Favorite position(s) (NSFW)

Speaking of the letter 'E'

Face down, ass up is his usual go to. To get more specific? I think he'd love doing the mating press so he can really drill in. Big boy go deep... However also, rapid fire

69, The bicycle, hoisting you up on counters or bending you over. It depends on the amount of horny and where but one thing is for sure, he wants to bury himself into the hilt.

Gentle (NSFW implied)

I say, he's gentle when he wants to be. Ofc great at aftercare but outside of the obvious I think he's attentive to emotions of others, maybe not empathetic but what is he if not an observer.

Hair (NSFW implied)

So I've been over how he doesn't use a 16 in 1. Now let's talk about how I think he maintains his hair, and... a brief headcanon on the situation downstairs.

So getting general around 6 to 12 weeks he'll re-dye his hair. Probably at the 6 mark and with the sides of his hair, maybe even back, then we have the 2 to 4 week timing of him shaving it again. Notice how I say he does it. Sure he could get someone else too and depending on his schedule he sometimes does.

As for his junk... I don't think he shaves, maybe trims?

I love you

He's not about to say it first, and if he is then it's probably in response to you doing something he didn't expect or some random cuddle session in the back of his van.

Jacking off (NSFW)

Id love to bring in the concept of his own hormone monster but it's not necessary. He doesn't wank it often but when he does it's either built up or an in the moment thing.

Kisses (NSFW implied)

He's such a... good kisser 🎶~

Speaking wild... He's great at making out, imo, very passionate and heated.

Speaking soft? I like to think he'd kiss your forehead if you're small, or like the top of your head?? Before pulling you closer to him. Is it spur of the moment or he notices you being pouty, yeah.

Little ones (is he good with kids)

Again see letter 'D'. I swear he's good with kids. ffs he also helped out Andrew, reluctantly ofc, but i swear this dude is great with kids.

Mornings

Picture with me waking up in his bed, sharing the bathroom together and heading downstairs to a greeting from his supportive parents. Very cute, usually chill, and yes he drives you home or you head out with him. Nice breakfast into little adventures with your punk rock boyfriend, isn't that fun!

Nights

I love to think when it's not spent in his or your bedroom then it's his van or at some abandoned building. Lots of cuddles, maybe some arson or bne of an old abandoned business but if y'all were caught by the owner you'd be in trouble because you're defacing the property.

Open

I don't think he's an open guy, unless he's actually comfortable around you. It definitely takes some time but the more he learns about you the more you learn about him and it starts subtle af too. That is til y'all are a few drinks or blunt hits deep and everything starts to bleed

Pace (NSFW)

What pace do you need or want him to go? Naturally I think he'd have a steady pace and rhythm but if you needed it to be different then he'll adjust.

Questions (does he ask about you?)

See letter 'O'. I feel like he's direct but also would ask others about you if you aren't close enough yet and he doesn't have much of a choice. Mainly out of curiosity or wanting to do something for you.

Remember (and from those questions what does he remember?)

I say everything because again, he is an observer. Any little thing you like, stuff you hate, your fashion taste, favorite food, color, music genres. He knows it.

Stamina (NSFW)

For a dude that exercises, and is built the way he is i think it only makes sense for him to have really good stamina. Which means multiple rounds... if you're up for it.

Toys (NSFW)

For those who've been liking my works from last year about this man. Im going to call the knife a toy, but ofc he's definitely open to using a vibrator or other things in the bedroom

Ugly (the good, the bad and the ugly - headcanon negative traits)

So the canon aside, i feel like if you guys got into a genuine argument he'd shut down or double down. Not a huge red flag, and a better option to calm down and walk away but for those who can't handle that he ready for a breakup and him saying some real mean shit.

I can't see him being controlling or possessive but there's a possibility of it ramping up and if you two don't get to the route of it then... hwoof. especially if you aren't okay with it

Volume (NSFW)

He doesn't get loud... At all. But by god do I want him to be. Mfer can make you scream but him?? He be up in your ear mummering nd shit.

Warning (would be protect you? even from himself?)

Absolutely! If he's going out to do something really bad then he's not bringing you along, no matter how badass you are. Y'all get into an argument? Like I said before. I think he'd warn you or before taking the gloves off he'd address how this is just anger, and if you two wanna continue then he's okay with it as long as you know this is just being genuinely pissed

X exes (what's it like being his ex?)

Friends, friends with benefits if he's not dating someone else and you're okay with it. Things slip back into friend territory if y'all separated on good terms. Bad terms? No y'all do not talk... At all.

Yelling

Again he's not known to raise his voice but that doesn't mean he's not capable of doing so and I'm a firm believer that it'd be scary as fuck. Seeing you scared, if you do get scared, or even tear up bc if you don't do well with confrontation then he'd stop. If he was still mad or irritated then he just walks off to cook down, but if not then he instantly apologizes.

Zzz (going to bed together)

See the letter 'C', but anyways. I swear he's a cuddle bug, i need him to be. But he'd never admit it.

[missydior]

lover ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, suggestive content, fluff.

a/n: just a little piece I wrote in like ten minutes during my study break. i don’t know.

Home. A pretty piano of white high gloss and ivory near the balconies of Art Nouveau overlooking the beauty of Monaco's streets, drapes in rose, fleur-de-lis, and tassels amongst the palette of white, créme and varnish, the bed a mess of linen sheets and pillows where the cashmere throw has fallen to the floor of birch parquet.

"— Tu es très jolie." ꒰ you are so pretty ꒱

Charles' voice is a hushed resonance near your ear, palms with their slight callouses feeling over the curve of your hips through fabric where the both of you lie in the warmth of a late evening. His lips trace your neck, slow and sweet, committing each inch he touches to his endless memory of you.

Hushed laughter with the subtle rasp of his facial hair against your sensitive skin, your fingertips tracing through tousled, brunet tresses as you tilt your head back on the cushions and welcome the slant of his mouth against yours.

You can taste remnants of a vintage wine and dessert's soufflé on his tongue, some silent and unspoken 'I love you' further than just words, welcoming the weight of his figure over yours on the mattress with the sweet sickness of love.

"All mine," He's mumbling the words on you between kisses, thumb meeting the edge of your collarbone in idle caresses near flourishing remnants of rouge and lilac from the evening before, "So pretty, baby."

He does that frequently, repeating his praise—even between different languages at times—until he is certain you will never forget.

Charles Leclerc has never been shy in the prospect of bathing you with the song of his adoration in compliments and sweet nothings, but it only ever seems heightened under the influence of one too many glasses of Côte de Beaune after a quiet, intimate dinner.

You're a breathless, giggling mess of a girl underneath him, grasping his shoulders, feeling the cotton of his ivory shirt fallen unbuttoned, his hand drifting about the silks of your blushing négligée. It is your favourite feeling.

He's so tender when he loves you like this, patient and gentle with the ghost of his palm along your navel and the kiss of his mouth over the arching of your neck as you sigh blissfully and succumb to the hold. The room is quiet and serene where the moonlight dances through the glass, bathing your skin, and you've never felt safer in his presence: his arms drawn around you, the sound of his breathing and his voice.

"Charles—" Tongues meet again in the sensuous intimacy between lovers before you can continue, whatever words soon lost as you melt into the feeling, ankles locked with his about the edge of the mattress, a quietly amorous and drowsy smile on your countenance when he eventually draws away, though only fractionally, and you're staring into those beautiful eyes of his.

"Hm?" He's kissing the corner of your mouth, then the edge of your jawbone, the invitation of your throat. You feel how his hand draws subtly beneath the edges of your garments, little touches of warmth.

"Tell me something." You request quietly, trying to fill the quietude.

There is the whisper of his chuckle against your clavicle, the softness of his voice and his Monégasque accent that curls on each syllable with his consideration, "Well," Kisses, teeth, "There are many things, ma chérie, which I could say to you."

"Mhm..." Your fingers thread through the ends of his hair, admiring the sight of him in the vulnerability of your shared moments. You know that he is doing this on purpose, just as he knows that you're enjoying every second of it, but you laugh a little and indulge. "Tell me how much you love me."

He smiles at this, leaning his head down a fraction to touch the side of your cheek on his, breaths melting together in synchrony like your hand that entwines with his own on the sheets.

"How could I ever put it into words?" The softest of pecks, and he breathes in the saccharine lull of your perfume until a thought seems to manifest until he shifts over you once more, punctuates his words with another touch of his lips on yours, and reveals handsome dimples, "You know, I'll show you instead."

[tayraedoll]

My Compliments to the Chef

Part 2 of the series- You go on your date; Alastor gives you some unusual cooking lessons and the ovens aren't the only things getting hot.

Part 1

TW: Self-consciousness, mild sexual situations, sensory deprivation, flashbacks, hurt/comfort, swearing

You stared down at the dress on your bed. It had been neatly laid out when you returned to your room the night before with a message scrawled in the most elegant handwriting you had ever seen:

Don't be late Darling - A

The dress was gorgeous- all black with a halter top, knee-length pleated skirt, and a thin belt around the middle. The fabric felt sturdy, no doubt it was expensive. He even gifted you a pair of black stilettos to pair with it.

You bit your lip nervously, of course you were nervous about going on a date with Alastor, but what caused your heart rate to spike at the moment was the thought of wearing this dress. It was definitely considered modest-to Alastor's taste- but the halter top would show the entirety of your arms...there was no way to hide the scars that littered your skin. Could you wear a jacket? Would that be considered rude?

You sighed, if you didn't get changed soon then you would be late...and you did not want to find out what Alastor would do if you kept him waiting after he explicitly told you to be on time. You paired the dress with simple silver hoop earrings and a bracelet and dabbed on dark merlot-red lipstick. Overall you looked good...if you could ignore your arms. You swiftly left the bathroom, not wanting to look in the mirror more than necessary. Snatching a small clutch you made your way to the lobby.

You caught sight of Alastor as you descended the stairs- he had traded his normal red pinstriped suit for a black one with coattails. He wore a bright red bow tie and he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail that exposed his undercut. You were so preoccupied with ogling at him that you missed a step and had to catch yourself on the railing to save yourself from an embarrassing fall the rest of the way down the staircase.

When you safely reach the ground level Alastor turns with a cheerful grin and confidently strides up to you, "You look absolutely ravishing Darling!" His hand reached for yours and gently brought it to his lips. "Give us a twirl!", he raised your hand above your head and you slowly rotated on the toe of one heel for him, a happy smile curling across your own face at his antics. "Tu es magnifique."

You blush at the barrage of compliments and nervously cough,"Shall we go then?", you start towards the door only for for the demon deer to wrap an arm around your waist.

"Nuh-uh-uh! Not that way My Dear! I would not subject you to walking in those shoes all the way across the Pride Ring. No, we shall be traveling in style!", he adjusted his bow tie and puffed out his chest. He pulled you flush against him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Hold on tight Darling."

You gasp as your vision suddenly went black and your feet were no longer on solid ground. Your grip on Alastor's coat was iron-clad as you reacted to the sudden weightlessness of your body. Then, just as soon as it began it was over, but instead of being in the hotel lobby you found yourself on the sidewalk outside a beautiful white-brick building. You were so busy taking in your new surroundings you didn't notice that you never let go of Alastor until he chuckled at you, "Oh! Sorry!", you jumped away from him and hid your blush by smoothing your dress down.

Alastor approached the little mouse demon hostess, she looked up at the much taller demon with a friendly smile, "Good evening Mr. Alastor sir! We have your table ready!" She hopped off her stool, barely coming up to The Radio Demon's knees, to lead the way to your dinner table.

The inside of the restaurant was just as stunning as the outside. It was all polished birch wood with black and gold accents and was dimly lit except for a small stage with a live pianist playing a relaxing tune. The chairs were dark with gold cushions, the tables adorned with white tablecloths, gold napkins, and black roses served as the centerpieces.

The hostess deftly placed the menus on the table and filled the water glasses, "Your server will be right with you!" Alastor held your chair out and motioned for you to take a seat before pushing it in.

"Oh Al, this place is breathtaking!", you take one last awed look around before unfolding your menu.

"Hmm yes, this place is certainly a bit of a hidden gem. There are certain types that won't give it a fair chance due to the staff actually."

"What do you mean?", you give him a perplexed look.

Just then, another cheerful mouse demoness approached your table, but she was significantly taller than the hostess. No, not a mouse...a rat. "Ah Alastor! I thought I heard your voice!", she chirped. "And who is it you've brought with you? She sounds lovely!", the rat turned to you then, her eyes were completely white and foggy as if she had milk on her lenses. It took you a second to understand- she was completely blind.

"Tilly, my dear friend! This is Y/N, she is a chef as well and I thought I'd bring her here tonight to experience all La Rodere has to offer", Alastor smiled kindly between you and Tilly despite her not being able to see it. "I'll just have my usual Tilly, if you don't mind. Although, perhaps a bottle of champagne instead of whiskey tonight."

"Of course! And what can I get you Sweetheart?", she faced you expectantly.

You quickly glance at the menu again,"Could I get the Poulet a la Moutard Francaise please?"

"Yes ma'am! It's a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening!", with that Tilly scampered off to fetch the champagne and turn in your order.

"You have impeccable taste My Dear", Alastor eyed you slyly.

"I take it that is your usual order?", you smiled over your glass of water at him.

"Correct! Now come along, or we will miss the show!", he grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the swinging doors that hid the kitchen from the dining area.

"Alastor! I don't think they would want us back there!", you admonished the chaotic demon.

"Nonsense! I join the kitchen all the time Darling! HAHAHA", he laughed at your bewildered face. "I assure you, you are in for quite a treat."

Upon entering the kitchen you were met with a small kitchen that was neatly kept. The smells of all the French cuisine hit your nose warmly causing you to take a deep breath in. Cozy- that was how you would describe this kitchen. There were three other rat demons similar to Tilly working at the space's center. Two more with the milky eyes and one with jet black eyes.

"Y/N, meet Tilly's siblings- Lilly, Billie, and Stew. They will be preparing our meals tonight!", Alastor introduced you, though none of the three chefs reacted to your presence at all. There was something that just seemed...off, but you couldn't decide what it was.

Just then, Tilly came in and joined her siblings at the center of the kitchen. A copy of the restaurants menu was laid out on the counter, she skimmed over the menu with with her fingers until she found the dish that you and Alastor chose. The rat with the beady, black eyes glanced at the item Tilly pointed to and began preparing the chicken and the mustard sauce. Once you began to get your first whiffs of the food, the third rat started blending various spices together, not using any measuring tools at all and continuously taking large sniffs at the mixture.

"What's happening Al?"

"You may be familiar with the three blind mice, but what about the four rats with only one sense each?", Alastor chuckled at you.

"One sense? What do you mean?", you ask as the rodent with the spices let out a hum of approval and mixed the blend into the dish. The beady-eyed rat then placed it in the oven to finish cooking.

"Tilly is the only one that can hear, hence the reason she takes the orders. Her sister Lilly is the only one that can see, so she begins the dish preparations and does the plating. Billie, being both blind and deaf, has a peculiar sense of smell. She does all the spice blends and knows when the dish is ready to plate and serve", Alastor explained as you watched on completely mesmerized. Just like he said, Billie clasped Lilly on the arm, which Lilly responded to by immediately pulling the food out not even bothering to temp it.

"So what does Stew do?", you nod to the last rat in the group.

"Oh, Stew has the most important job of all! Not a dish goes out that he does not taste test first!"

Lilly placed a spoon in the mustard sauce and lifted it to Stew's lips; he paused momentarily as the sauce caressed his taste buds. He reached out and felt around various spices with different tops in front of him until he found the salt which he sprinkled over the top of the dish before nodding his approval. Lilly divided the food between two plates and handed them to Tilly.

"Your dinner is ready!", she cheerfully called to the two of you. Alastor placed your arm through his and led you back to your table where your champagne was already waiting. He once again pulled your chair out for you and tucked you under the table before taking his seat.

The food was positively divine, possibly the best you had ever eaten. You chewed slowly, savoring each bite; thinking of how each individual leaned into their strengths to pull the meal together flawlessly.

"Penny for your thoughts my Dear?", Alastor broke you from your reverie.

You smirked back at him, "Are my thoughts worth so little?" Your smile softens as he laughs, but then you frown. "I feel sorry for them...I can't imagine only having one sense. Not only in everyday life but in the kitchen especially; part of what makes being a chef so fun is getting to use all the senses to create a masterpiece."

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose, but they all get to enjoy it in their own way. The unique artistry of their preparations is a large part of why I am so fond of this place."

You reached a hand out to his slowly, allowing him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn't as your fingers tentatively caressed the back of his hand, "Thank you for bringing me here, I feel honored that you have entrusted me with one of your secret indulgences."

His other hand came up to run his claws over your hand, you flinch back slightly when they run over the exposed, red skin of your arm. It did not hurt, but you were afraid it would repulse him. You bring your hand back to yourself and shift uncomfortably for a second, skin tingling slightly. You don't notice the crimson eyes studying your reaction.

"There's a reason I brought you here specifically, your training begins tomorrow."

Your head snaps back up to him,"What training?"

You stand there in the kitchen nervously, wondering what Alastor was going to have you make. The prospect of cooking for The Radio Demon thrilled you, there was so much that you could learn from someone with his experience. But the anxiety gnawed at you, he made it clear he was not a fan of your cooking, what were you supposed to make to impress him?

"Ah good evening My Dear!", speak of the demon himself..."What are we making today?"

Oh? He was planning on cooking WITH you?! This was an unexpected but exciting turn of events; there were so many advanced dishes he could help you with!

"OOO maybe a turducken?! I have always wanted to try making one! We could start with- OW!!", Alastor had flicked you right between the eyes rather hard, your hand flying up to rub the sore spot on your forehead.

"No, we are not teaming up to make some ridiculous frankendish monstrosity. We are here so that you can learn how to speak through your dishes. Put yourself on a plate! Now, what is something you enjoy cooking? What's a dish that you enjoy eating? Not for how pretty it is or how well you have mastered it, but something that you feel genuine emotion for? Preferably something simple."

You frowned at him, a dish you were emotional about? You had to think, most dishes that evoked any emotion in you conjured negative feelings due to failing at them. You highly doubted that's what he had in mind. After a moment, an idea finally popped into your head, "What about tuna melts? I used to make them all the time when I was in culinary school, they were fast and easy to make between classes."

"Excellent! Tell me, what are the ingredients?"

As you listed your ingredients off they suddenly appeared on the table one-by-one. After all ingredients were gathered you set out to start your prep when Alastor grabbed your arm, "Not so fast Dear, there is one more thing I did not tell you." With a snap of his fingers, your vision was suddenly non-existent. You gabbed onto the counter to ground yourself as your world suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Alastor! What the fuck are you doing?! I can't cook if I can't see!"

"Oh, but you can Darling! You just witnessed two blind rats cook yesterday!"

"Lilly did the cooking and she had sight!"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am here! I shall be your eyes today", he leaned in close, his chest just centimeters from your back. An expected shiver traveled up your spine as if his static was prickling directly at your skin. "You worry too much about aesthetic perfection, hone in on your other senses for a bit. Learn to let go."

You bit your lip in contemplation, "You won't let me hurt myself right?"

You felt more than heard his low chuckle vibrate across your shoulders, giving you another involuntary shiver. His fingers trailed down your sleeve-covered arms to where your hands still gripped the counter, "I promise no blood will be spilled this day."

Your breath hitched slightly as he dislodged your fingers from the counter, as your posture straightened you back became flush with his chest. Was he always this much taller than you? It felt like he was towering over you, his breath caressing your scalp and blowing your hair slightly. He leaned impossibly closer to you, "Now, walk me through how to make this dish."

His hands guided yours through cutting your french loaves. You focused intently on your sense of smell, trying to gauge when just the right amount of garlic was added to your butter when it became fragrant. It was hard to concentrate on the food though, with Alastor's cologne filling your nostrils with every inhale. You felt the demon flinch back slightly when you opened the cans of tuna.

"You sustained yourself by consuming cat food?", he asked incredulously.

"Hey! It's actually really good! Besides, you don't get to complain when you are a broke college student. These cans were less than a dollar each!", you laugh, reminiscing about your college days scraping together pennies just to fill your fridge.

"Hmm, perhaps you should have contemplated eating your teachers instead. The ones you didn't care for anyways."

He helped you mix and spread the tuna across the bread loaves, topping them with cheddar slices before popping them in the oven. Even when you weren't using your hands his touch lingered, as if he didn't want to let you go.

You pulled the melts out of the oven when you heard the cheese bubbling, the bread gave a satisfying crunch when you cut the sandwiches in half. Your first bite transported you back to culinary school, you could picture yourself scarfing your sandwich down before your next class began. A mixture of anxiety, determination, and exhaustion consumed you, an emotional cocktail that you were intimately familiar with during that time in your life.

"Hm! I suppose the cat food is edible", Alastor snarked from behind you as he ate his own sandwich. "It reminds me of a seafood dish we ate mixed with peas during The Great Depression, however, this is more elevated. I can imagine you struggling to get by financially and turning to this dish to satiate your hunger. I can finally taste you in this meal...good job Y/N."

You smiled at the long-awaited compliment, with another snap of his fingers your sight was restored. Sadly, that meant that Alastor stepped away from you and you lamented the loss of contact.

"Now, just two more senses to vanquish! Make sure to think of two more meals that hold a special place in your heart. Good work today my dear!", a surprised yelp ripped out your throat as his cane gently smacked your ass on his way to the door. Did he seriously just-?! But before you could confront him about it he was gone, leaving nothing but a manic chuckle behind.

The next evening you waited for the deer demon impatiently, your thumb tapping against the the opposite bicep. What was that yesterday? The memory of how close Alastor was to you played over and over in your mind. How the heat of his chest seeped into the flesh of your back, how his claws tingled as they traced down your arms. But mostly you thought of how his hands felt holding yours; how the muscles and tendons flexed as he moved you around...how the strength of them left little doubt about what others things he could make you do with so little resistance...

"My, my- someone's a bit jittery today!"

Alastor's voice made you jump, your mind scrambling to abandon the train of thought you were on.

"A-Alastor! Hi! Er-yes, just excited for our next lesson is all!", you laugh nervously. "Today I was thinking of making salmon and risotto bowls. It was what I cooked to win that scholarship to culinary school."

"Excellent choice My Dear! I must say I quite like your affinity for seafood. Now, lets begin", he snapped and your world, once again, fell dark.

"Uh Alastor? Weren't you supposed to take a different sense away? I worked blindly yesterday already!"

"Hmm yes you did, but you will find that I did take another sense away. As for your sight well...", he leaned in close, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear "...perhaps I just like you this way."

You exhale shakily, the air around you feeling thick, the tension weighing on your shoulders. You took a few deep breaths to calm your heart rate; as if sensing your distress, Alastor straightened up to put some distance between you but maintained the looming presence behind you as he took your hands and helped you through making your dish. You leaned in to smell the fish to check the seasoning when you realized you couldn't smell a thing. You were completely dependent on your hearing alone to cook. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out a plan of action to continue.

Alastor leaned into you once again, whispering into your ear "Surrender completely, my dear listener, let the food sing you a melody. And trust me as your host of this experience, I promise I won't steer you wrong." He gently carded a claw through your hair, pulling a stand back behind your ear and leaving goosebumps along the flesh of your scalp and causing the little hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

You lean back against him, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest ground you as you match your breathing to his. As you concentrate on inhaling, the sounds of the kitchen begin to register. You could hear the risotto gently bubbling in the pan, the popping getting closer together as the liquid reduced- telling you it was time to add a bit more stock.

"Help me add more stock to the rice and test the heat of the pan", your voice was barely above a whisper. The demon behind you responded immediately, hands gently holding your wrists leading you through the motions. The water evaporated from the pan immediately, the sharp sizzle telling you it was time to add the oil and fish.

True to his word, Alastor kept hold of you through the whole process, as soon as you told him what you needed to do based on what you heard he immediately complied. You moved through the kitchen together locked in a strange dance; the food cooking, your small whispers, and his radio static the only sounds in the small space.

You choked on your first bite, your mind immediately going back to 18-year-old you. You remembered exactly how you felt when you were announced the winner of that scholarship, the day your entire life turned around...right before it all went up in flames. You weren't even aware of the tears rolling down your cheeks until you suddenly regained vision and Alastor was right in front of you. His hands tenderly held your face as he gently used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. He stared down at you intently but with a tenderness in his eyes you had never seen before. The next thing you knew you had your arms wrapped around him, clinging to him as you sobbed into his coat. Years of trauma and repressed emotions finally letting loose, you sobbed until you had nothing else left in you. All the while Alastor just held you, never saying a word and never casting any judgement.

When your tears dried and your sobs completely quieted, The Radio Demon pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted your head back to look at him, "Our final lesson is tomorrow. Think of one more meal Mon Cher."

Your hands kept running through your hair, you almost felt sick with anxiety about today's lesson. When was the last time you cried? Probably when Grandma died, and even then you hid away in the bathroom, cleaning your face at the vanity before exiting so you could be the strong, older sister that your siblings needed. And then you just fell to pieces in front of Alastor, full-on ugly cried into The Radio Demon's coat! Your face flushed in embarrassment, you'd have to apologize to him.

Time kept ticking...he always arrived right on time, but today he was officially late. Great, your emotional outburst scared him off. Your hands fisted in your hair as you clenched your teeth to swallow the frustrated growl that threatened to rip out of your throat.

Just as you were about to run out of the kitchen (again) the Overlord finally walked through the door, he was practically running at the pace he moved at. He looked a bit disheveled himself, like he was in a hurry. He's probably in a hurry to get this over with and get away from you. You shook your head, you didn't want to entertain that thought. You opened your mouth to apologize for your breakdown but he beat you to it "What is the meal today?"

"Ummm...lamb chops with garlic smashed potatoes. It was Grandma's favorite, she normally paired it with Merlot. Look Al, I'm really sorry-", you were suddenly cut off when Alastor gripped your biceps, his hold was firm but not painful. His eyes held the same intensity they did the other day.

"Do you trust me?", his eyes bored into yours, reading every micro-expression your face made as you thought of the answer.

"With my life", you murmured softly, feeling the tears spring into your eyes again. His hand came up to cup your face once more.

"Good, please remember that I will never put you in harms way. Just...trust me", you heard his fingers snap and your world entered the now-familiar darkness. It was different this time though, you stood frozen for a few seconds before you realized what was off. Your hearing also left with your vision, this is how it felt to be Billie and Stew- deaf and blind.

Alastor? Your own voice did not register in your ears; there was no way to know if you had said his name out loud at all. The only thing your ears picked up was the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins. You heard your heart rate spike as panic started to creep into your mind. Alastor!

You felt the comforting pressure of hands on your shoulders, you were so used to these hands being on you now that you were sure you'd recognize his touch in a line-up at this point. He gently pushed you down to take a seat which confused you- weren't you supposed to be cooking?

Then you felt something touch your lips, you flinched back, causing liquid to spill down your chin from the whatever it was. Long, clawed fingers gripped your jaw to force you to stay still as the liquid met your lips once more. Red wine...Merlot, just like Grandma taught you to pair with red meat. Realization finally dawned on you, your sensory assignment today was taste...and you weren't cooking but being FED.

A claw gently dipped your bottom lip, a thumb brushing over your tongue to coat it in the spice mix for the lamb. You stopped breathing completely, your mind short-circuiting at the thought of Alastor sticking his thumb into your mouth. In an act of bravery you slowly slid your tongue over the digit letting out a hum of approval at the spices that coated your palate.

A glass was slowly transferred into your hand, the Merlot serving to keep your mind occupied as he cooked. You took the time to pick each component of the wine apart- cherry, chocolate, and plum notes. A hint of blackberry and tobacco in the aroma.

Even though you were temporarily blind and deaf, you sensed when he returned to you; it was as if his static aura seeped into your skin, alerting your body to his presence even when there was no way of noticing his approach. A hand cupped your jaw and pushed on your cheeks, gently prying your mouth open. The lamb was warm, definitely medium rare based on the texture, the musky taste of the lamb paired perfectly with the garlic, salt, and pepper seasonings it was coated in. The potatoes were crispy with a warm butter flavor, sour cream and cheese used to top them. The meal felt like home- familiar and warm; memories of cooking with Grandma flashed in your head. You felt the smile that split your face, your chest vibrated with laughter that you couldn't hear.

A hand gripped yours and pulled gently, you carefully stood up and let him lead you a short distance before pulling you down again...this time onto his lap. Your heart skipped a beat, you were sitting on The Radio Demon's lap...how? why?...what was happening?

You felt your eyes dance around frantically, trying to find him in the dark, asking for him to restore your sight so you could gauge his reactions and body language to try to make some sense of what he was thinking. Then you felt them, a barely-there brush of lips against yours but definitely lips pressing to yours in a tender kiss. As quickly as they appeared they were gone; your hands traveled up along his jacket and shirt buttons before coming to a rest on his collarbones.

Suddenly, his fingers tangled into your hair and pulled your head back so that he could meet your lips more head-on. Alastor sealed this kiss with more force, holding your head so that you couldn't put any space between you two. You melted into him, parting your lips to give him access when you were caught by surprise; instead of his tongue entering your mouth a warm, full-bodied liquid tasting of cherry and chocolate poured from his mouth into yours- the Merlot. He had taken a sip of the wine and was pouring it directly into you. Your throat vibrated in a moan, his tongue quickly sweeping into your mouth once you swallowed the wine he fed you. Never had a wine tasted so good as when it came from Alastor's lips.

This dance continued a few more times, each kiss becoming more frantic and desperate with teeth gnashing together and tongues exploring every crevice of the other's mouth. You moved so you were straddling his hips, hands holding onto his lapels so he couldn't disappear on you.

The sensation of weightlessness whirled around you- his shadow magic you quickly realized. When you were grounded again your sight and hearing were restored but you didn't recognize your surroundings. You found yourself in a room of different red tones, with a large fireplace and armchairs in front of it and a desk off to the side. Beyond the typical room furnishings was a forest, the whole scene looked peculiar and distorted. How fitting for his room to resemble himself so much. You turned back to the demon whose room your inexplicably found yourself in...and he was looking back at you like you were the first meal he's seen in weeks.

Part 3 coming soon...there will be smut.

@voxslays

@ladyadrasteia666

@angeldustharmony

@milkissesx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: cut my life into pieces, this is my worst villain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy shows you to the guest room. It’s big. Much bigger than your own.

Rather, yours is overcrowded with collectible figurines of women in big gowns and books about vintage fashion. When you were less exhausted, you would cut out the pictures and make collages. It’s been ages since you did anything more than lay around. 

He leaves you to take it in. The bed frame is birch, the bedding all white, without a single wrinkle, the nightstands match the bed, and there’s a beige rug across the floor. There’s a book shelf against one wall, a window in the other, and an armchair in the corner. Simple but nice. 

You roll your tank across the floor as you hear Andy coming up the stairs. He peeks in as you turn to see him carrying your mom. He nods as he passes by. A door opens further down the hall. You feel too unsettled to lay down even if you are tired. 

He returns and peers around the door frame as he taps with his knuckles. 

“Here, I just realised you don’t have any clothes here,” he holds a folded tee. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Thanks,” you keep your tank on the hardwood as you cross to him. You take the shirt and clutch it under your arm. 

“The bathroom’s right across the hall,” he points with his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you need some water or anything?” 

You shake your head, “thank you. No, I’m alright. Just need to... rest.” 

“Of course. Any extra blankets? The AC too much?” He asks. 

You shrug, “I’m fine.” 

He smiles softly, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be overbearing I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“That’s okay,” you assure him and back up. “Really, I can handle it.” 

“Alright, but please don’t hesitate to ask for anything, alright, sweetheart?” 

You turn and put the shirt on the bed, “okay. Thanks.” 

He lingers in the door. He’s watching you. His gaze hangs over you like a shroud. Slowly, he reaches for the handle and shuts you in. At last, you can breathe. Well... 

You slip the tube from around your nose as you change. You sit as you pull on the tee, keeping your flowery cotton briefs on. You loop the tube around your ears again and set it right. You feel woozy from the effort. 

You turn off the light and shuffle cautiously through the dark. You put your tank to the side of the bed and stretch the tube. You lay down and let your eyes close. Your fatigue descends faster than you expect. 

There’s some noise from outside your walls, but you don’t think much of it as you drift off. You wake up still on your back. You’ve trained yourself not to move much lest you get tangled up. All the water you had with dinner has you squirming. 

You drag yourself up and fix your tube. You stub your toe on the take as you get out of bed and groggily stumble around. For a moment, you go into autopilot and collide with the end of the bed, thinking it to be much smaller. You’re not at home, you remind yourself. 

You wheel the tank behind you and open the door. You cross the hall to the open bathroom and dip inside. You park the wheels under the tank and do what you need to, the seat cold, the tile even colder. 

You wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t do that often. Under your nose is chafed, your lips are chapped, and your eyes are sunken. You’ve never been pretty, just sick. You always wanted to be beautiful like the glass women you kept in your room. You don’t know why you’re thinking of that now. 

You shut off the light before you open the door and step out into the darkness. You don’t get far as you hear a grunt and your tank lurches over a bump. You stop and squeak as the shadow backs up and grumbles. A switch flicks and the overhead light glows. 

You face Andy in surprise, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--” 

“No, no,” he grimaces and wiggles his foot. “I shouldn’t be creeping around in the dark.” 

He chuckles and pushes back his hair, it’s tussled, and his beard has uneven lines in it. More concerningly, he’s almost naked. He only wears a pair of grey boxers. His chest is thick with hair that trails down his stomach, and his shoulders are rounded with muscles. He somehow seems even bigger in that moment. 

You lean back, about to tip. You’ve never seen a man like that in the flesh. You’ve never been that close to such a bare man. Even when you see it on screen, it makes you squirm and heat up. 

“It’s... It’s... I’m sorry.” 

You turn and hit your tank with your leg. It slips and wobbles before it clunks over. You trip over the wheels and tumble forward. You squeak as a tight vice closes around your arm and keeps you from hitting the floor. 

Andy pulls you steady to your feet and you turn to stare at his hand. He’s touching you. No one touches you. Only your mom and she only does that when she wants to make a show. You stare at his knuckles and he slowly lets go. 

You stand frozen. He bends down to lift the tank back to its wheels and he looks it over. He turns his ear towards it. 

“I don’t hear a leak.” He says. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you insist and grab the handle. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, but what about you, honey? You okay?” 

“Yep,” you cough and veer the tank across the hall with you. 

You don’t look back. You're embarrassed. Especially as you shut the door and realise you’re in little better state than him. You have the tee shirt and your frumpy underwear on. Oh gosh, that’s horrible. He saw you like that. 

💚

You wake up and get dressed in the same clothes you wore the night before. All in all, you’ve been awake for most of the time there. Strange places make you wary. Even hospitals, as often as you’ve been there, keep you on edge. 

After you get your meds from your belt bag, you sit on the bed and stare at the window. Your mom will be up eventually and you’re sure she won’t want to hang around unless Andy is there. He must have work, right? 

You hear movement in the hallway. It could be her. You hope it is. You listen to the footsteps descend the stairs and minutes later return. There’s a back and forth in the hall and through the house once more. Yet you don’t hear voices. 

A knock comes at the door and you make your way over. You’re not surprised to find Andy on the other side, only disappointed. He’s in a pair of slacks and a button-up. He must be near ready to go. 

“Hey, checking on you,” he puts his hand on the door frame. You glance at it. You won’t be able to close it. “Everything okay? I put coffee on.” 

You nod, “okay. I don’t drink coffee. Thanks. Too much caffeine.” 

“Oh, I should’ve remembered that,” he puts his other hand on his hip. “Well, your mom isn’t doing too well. She’s hungover. I did mention about the wine.” 

“Uh, I... I’m sorry,” you frown. 

“Sorry? Why?” He tilts his head, “you don’t have to apologise for her. It’s the consequences of her own behaviour.” 

You shrug. You guess it’s a habit. You’re always the one apologising to the nurses or the service workers or just the last person she decided to argue with. 

“Yeah...” you murmur. 

“Well, I can make you some breakfast? I have some muffins. You like blueberry?” 

“It’s okay. I’ll just wait for mom,” you pick at the hem of your shirt. 

“Alright, but I think she might not be up for a while. Even then, I don’t know if she’s going anywhere.” He glances over his shoulder. “How about, I’ll leave a muffin out for ya and you can have it if you get hungry? I got a short day, I won’t be gone very long but you get full rein of the house when I’m out. Keep your mom safe, huh?” 

You blink at him. You can’t quite process what he’s saying. More his tone than his words. He’s talking to you in this sickly sweet voice. Is he trying to be fatherly? You don’t need a dad and he didn’t need you either. 

“Right, I...” you shift on your feet. “I’ll just lay back down. My head hurts.” 

“You sure you’re not hungry? I can get you some coffee before I go?” He offers. 

You shake your head, “no thanks, “ you wisp out, “er, have a good day, Andy.” 

“I’ll try, sweetie,” he surprises you as he moves his hand from the door frame swiftly. You can’t react as he reaches for you. He cradles around the back of your head and leans in to kiss your forehead. “You too.” 

He pets your head before he pulls away. You’re too stunned to speak or move. You squeeze the handle on your tank and your chest starts to split. You have to breathe! 

He steps back with a grin and turns to strut away. You watch after him. Was that... well, no, it’s... it can’t be anything. He’s just being him? He’s with your mom now so technically when they marry... that’s it.  

You just don’t know any better. You’re stupid. You’ve never even dreamed of having a man interested in you that you confuse the most innocent things for more. It’s not that. He’s being nice. If anything, he just feels sorry for you like everyone else. 

When he disappears down the stairs, you finally get some sense back. You shut the door and go back to the bed. You’re dizzy and a bit queasy. You lay down and watch the ceiling. If your mom isn’t up in an hour, you’ll have to go find her. 

You can’t stay like that. Despite the shadow of exhaustion that always follows you, you’re restless. You get up and make sure the bed is tidy. You fold the used tee shirt and check to make sure you tank hasn’t left any marks on the floor or carpet. 

Alright then, that’s enough waiting. You peek into the hallway before you emerge. You go down to the door where you think she is. You can’t remember which one now. You knock and wait. She doesn’t answer so you hit the door harder, making yourself flinch. 

You hear a grumble. You stand in indecision. Should you just let her be? Well, you don’t want to be here all day. You rub your forehead then rip your hand away. Right there, where he kissed you... 

You drop your hand to the door handle and push inward. Your mother is shrouded in darkness, the curtains are drawn, and she groans. You sniff and stay close to the threshold. 

“Mom, are you okay? It’s almost nine--” 

“Go away,” she gurgles. 

“Mom, we have to go home.” 

“Oh, shut up. Go. Fuck, my head is pounding,” she rubs her head and writhes. 

“Mom?” You squeak. She can be harsh but she doesn’t swear at you like that. “Can I help--” 

“Leave me alone,” she rolls her back to you, “you’re making it worse.” 

You frown and look at her. You were just trying to help her. You know you’re useless but you don’t mean to be. You back out and roll the tank with you. When you close the door, you jump at the figure along the edge of your sight. You turn to Andy as he stands just down the hall. 

How long has he been there? 

“Told you, she’s in rough shape,” he says. “Well, good and bad news. My case for this morning got pushed. Lawyers put in a request so I’m gonna work from home so if you need anything, I’ll be around.” 

“Oh, uh, right,” you hunch and shrink toward the wall. 

He nods and smiles softly. You’re both silent, stuck in a strange valley of uncertainty. He clears his throat. 

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, you know? I’ll... I’ll tell her that.” He says. 

You shake your head frantically, “no, don’t do that.” 

“But she shouldn’t--” 

“Please. She’s just not feeling good,” you insist and roll toward him. “It’s fine. Just... I need to sit down.” 

He lets you pass and you dip back into the guestroom. You click the door shut and heave out a long breath. You just want to be at home. Everything here feels so weird. 

[kerink]

okay, i finished the book of bill and i wasn't going to make this post because i was sure someone already had, but i was asked to make it anyway so here we go. my compilation of the billford content:

SONGS

three songs have been identified in relation to bill and ford:

the first is "we'll meet again" by vera lynn, which is about the singer wishing well to the listener before they travel, and promising to return home to them soon. this song comes up twice, first when bill sang it to ford in the fearamid and then again at the start of the book of bill, where ford says he still gets it stuck in his head upon waking up, giving the impression they both are singing it to each other at different points.

the second is a 1960s song by james and bobby; when you search this, the first song that comes up is "i'm your puppet." the meaning of this song is really straightforward, especially within the context of these two, but you can read this if you'd like. i believe this is the song ford is whistling in his dream before he's confronted by bill's previous victims. during this scene, he's sitting in a birch tree clearing (the tree commonly associated with bill) and sketching a yellow meadowlark.

as an aside, something interesting about the meadowlark is that its chest marking has a very peculiar resemblance...

the third is "sweet dreams (are made of this)" by the eurythmics. after bill tries for days if not weeks to talk to ford about the portal, bill resorts to violence and spends the night abusing ford's body and reputation. when ford wakes up, this is the song bill left playing for him.

as an aside, i think it's interesting that the first draft of the song was played on a black and yellow synthesizer.

HOW TO TRICK EVERYONE INTO LOVING YOU

there is an entire section in the book dedicated to bill outlining his dating tips. of the 8 tips bill gives, he uses 3 of them on ford. EDIT: he uses 5 of them

the first is "the love cage," which pretty much ver batum outlines what happened in the fearamid during weirdmageddon.

the second is "vulnerability," where bill advises you tell your date 1) how no one can relate to you and 2) that you have a tragic back story, both of which he does in one fell swoop.

as an aside, this is a fun chance to peek at bill being an unreliable narrator in some kind of mobius double bluff. when you read these two sections back to back, it appears bill is lying to ford to gain his trust, especially if you also just watched the previous video. however, earlier in the book, it's implied that the genocide of his dimension was traumatic and something he wishes he could undo, and later in the book, after ford leaves him, bill gets drunk and attempts to call his mother, sobbing. this gives the impression that bill was indeed being vulnerable with ford here but doesn't want us, the reader, to know it.

the third is "good ol'-fashioned valentines," where bill provides some cheap and easy gift-giving advice. he then follows this advice for ford's birthday.

as an aside, i think it's funny bill brings up cats here. who belongs to whom, william?

BREAKUP

them both accusing each other of cheating:

a callback to stan's season 1 joke: "my ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better:"

this amazing lower back tattoo bill made him get:

bill totally being fine and normal and great after ford leaves him for good. in fact, he's doing so well that he got drunk and took himself to dinner to celebrate. he's not upset. he's not upset.

and let's not forget mabel calling it like it is, as always:

MISC

and finally, here are some various tidbits i just enjoyed:

ford's a cipherholic attracted to things that hurt him lmfao

can you just give him a normal compliment jesus

the tattoo reads "if lost return to bill"

also the "the rats were his idea? i get it now." get what baby hm? hm? hm? implying we WERE supposed to "get" something from it

fated i guess

not tonight dear i have a headache

in conclusion, i definitely think bill is more in love with obsessed with ford than ford is with bill at this point. probably because ford's had a third of his life to come to terms with their partnership, while 30 years to an immortal being is imperceptible. given what we saw with "the love cage" and with how bill tells ford it's not too late to join the henchmaniacs during weirdmageddon, he's probably still trying to get ford back. in his own insane, demonic way.

as an aside, i do think it's interesting that the end of the book implies bill blames stan for turning ford away from him. especially since what he cites is what happens at the end of the show, implying bill thought he still had a chance during weirdmageddon

anyway, thanks for reading! if i missed anything, please let me know!

[lady-of-tearshed]

What defines you

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 1: Flying

@cassianappreciationweek

Sumarry: Cassian and Azriel have been sent on a mission while Rhys is away. Cassian gets back from this mission injured, and the prognosis of his wings recovery is uncertain.

Warnings: Mention of injuries, angst, Cassian self-loathing

Word count: 1,139k words

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You jolted as Azriel walked out of the healer's room bloodied, face paler than usual, eyes wider too. His shadows were swirling all around him frantically, a poor attempt at covering their master’s raw terror. 

You tried to pass by him, to enter the room, but his large hand stopped you before you could open the heavy birch double door. “He doesn't wish to see anyone right now.” His voice was cold, firmly keeping you from entering the room. 

You had rarely seen Azriel refuse you anything. Your eyes watered as Cassian's cries echoed from the other room. “He's my mate.” You hiss. “I need to be there for him in these kind of moments-” 

“And I'm his brother. Yet here I am, respecting his wish.” He spat, completely losing his temper. You froze, you've never seen that side of Azriel. The male standing in front of you wasn't the Azriel you usually gossip with at family dinners, no. This Azriel was gone in this instant, the Azriel standing before you was the exact picture of the Night Court cold Shadow Singer. 

He ran his hands through his hair, not even realizing he'd spread your mate’s blood over it in his movement. “Look. He's in good hands. Madja’s doing what she can. He doesn't want to see anyone, that's it.” He mumbled, softening his voice this time. 

You couldn't be mad at him. This whole situation probably stressed him out as much as you were. You nod, stepping back from the door to rest your back against the opposite wall for support. You didn't feel like you could currently rely on your legs, as every wail of pain coming from Madja’s room made your limbs tremble. 

Azriel stood beside you, avoiding your gaze as he looked up at the ceiling. “I should've known there would've been an ambush.” 

“Where was Rhys? Where is he now?” You asked, venom was lacing your voice. All that burned inside of you was pure hatred towards the High Lord for his absence. 

And agonizing worry for Cassian’s fate. 

“He and Feyre are away to fix important matters in Day Court.” 

You looked incredulously at Azriel, your face reddening, burning, ready to burst. “So he's not here?! And he relied on you two to handle protecting the Night Court, alone?! All while asking you two to fly all the way to Illyria to fix other issues for him?!” 

Azriel didn't answer, didn't meet your eyes, only looked further away. 

Before you could burst out in anger again, Madja opened the door. She closed the door behind her and pulled out a white towel to clean her hands off the blood. Her eyes traveled between you and Azriel, letting out a long exhale.

She looked drained, exhausted…

“His vitals are stable,” She announced, looking at you as she tried to sound reassuring. 

“His wings?” Azriel asked and you shot him a glance. 

“He's going to live. That's all that matters. Thank you, Madja.” You tried to walk past her, but once again someone stops you from being your mate’s state for yourself. 

You almost growled at her, your instincts screaming to rip the head off anyone stopping you to reach your mate’s side. But the sad smile she wears is convincing enough for you to let her head stay intact. “He's not… Happy with the news…”

“What news, Madja?” You snarl, all muscles in your body tensing. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. 

“Don't look at me like that. I know, I'm ruined.” Cassian whispered weakly, turning his face away from you as you sat carefully on the edge of the bed. 

He still wore a visible frown on his face, his facial features twitching with pain with every move he did. His fractured ribs poked into his lungs with every breath he took.

But none of these aches could compare to the one of his soul. Every time the possibility of never being able to fly came up to the surface of Cassian’s mind, it crashed against him like a wave and drowned him in an ocean of anguish. 

“You're not ruined,” You reached your fingers to his face, gently, yet carefully, stroked his jaw. “Madja said that with time, maybe-”

“I don't HAVE time to waste on “maybe's”!” Cassian roughly shoved your hand away from his face, his still healing lower lip splitting open as he yelled at you. “What do you expect me to do, stay here, in bed, and be useless?!” He was panting with anger at this point. 

Cassian needed to calm down, or else he'd hurt himself even more. You tried to calm him down. “Cassian-” 

“I am nothing, no one, if I waste time rotting in this bed. I'll be useless, and forgotten in no time.” Cassian spat, his words burning you like venom. “What am I, if not a general, mh?” He didn't even give you a chance to answer before hissing through clenched teeth. “An Illyrian bastard.”

Silence fell upon the room, you gulped down your anger, fighting the urge to yell back at your mate. “That is bullshit,” Your voice was trembling, and your eyes burning from the tears you held back there. “You are so much more than just a general.” Cassian snickered coldly at your answer, and rolled his eyes at you. 

Your eyes darkened, this wasn't your Cassian. You refused to believe that this male, this stupid Illyrian about to give up everything, was your mate. Your fists clenched at your sides. “You are my mate, Cassian.” You take a shaky breath, tears rolling down your cheeks this time as you frantically continue your monologue. “You are my mate, Feyre's best friend, Rhysand and Azriel's brother, Nyx's fantastic uncle, and so much more.”

Cassian stays deadly silent, but the silver lining in his eyes mirrors how your words have affected him. You scooch closer to his side, and you intertwine your fingers with his. “We'll get through this. I promise,” 

“And if I lose my wings?” His voice cracks.

“Then we'll get through this too,” Your hand hovers above his heart, careful not to apply too much pressure on his bruised chest. “Your wings aren't what defines who you are. This does,” A breath caught in your throat as you feel the steady and strong heartbeat of your mate. “And I'm so glad it's still beating.” 

Cassian nods, the movement stiffed by his tensed muscles. “I am too…” 

You stayed by his side all night after that, and while Cassian didn't get much sleep because of the pain, your words kept him from drowning in his sorrows. Like an anchor in the middle of a storm, your words kept him together. 

“We'll get through this. I promise.”

We… 

He wouldn't have to do this alone, to fight alone. Not anymore. 

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

[irreverent-saints]

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Inclement Weather

Idun wrestled the sleigh over rocks and roots. She tugged and dragged, but the only thing that seemed to move were the crates of produce precariously balanced atop each other.

The Jotun strolled past her. With each step he took she would have to dash to keep up. She pulled the rope harder, grumbling.

“Do you need help?” He asked, looking back at her. She slouched.

“Ground’s a bit uneven..” she said. He turned around, lowering his hand towards her. Idun grasped around a claw. She pushed her weight down on it.

“To the tundra. Like last time,” he said. She leaned her torso over his palm. Warm, leathery. Surprisingly dry. She took a deep breath and climbed onto it. His fingers curved slightly. She flinched. He slowly closed his fist. Five huge daggers towards her. Idun laid still, letting each one of them come just short of grazing her.

She clung to a finger. Her stomach fluttered as he stood to his full height. She dug her nails into his skin. His steps swayed, she opened her eyes. Trees rushing past her. A fifty feet drop, her lower body entirely obscured by thick talons. She glanced upwards. At the meticulously crafted pendants dangling from his neck, at the stubble under his jaw. Were someone out there whetting giant razors for him? Did he forge everything he owned by hand? And if not, from who and from what did he gather yarn to spin?

“Have you ever gone past the low forest?” She asked. His ears flattened.

“That’s human territory. I’m not some intruder,” he said.

“Oh, but we enter the Deep Forest all the time,”

“I know.” He said dryly. “But beyond that, Jotun must never seek out humans. The ones that do all end up cowed or killed.”

“Oh… Thats a shame,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt, “Will you be safe? I didn’t mean to meddle in your business,”

“We have a truce. Just keep your word. That way neither of us will end up in an early grave,” as he spoke, his wrist twitched slightly.

There was a fifteen meter gap between her and the ground. She writhed, testing her strength against his grip. No use. She might as well have asked a mountain to yield. He could cave in her body in an instant. Dead before she even had time to close her eyes. Idun trembled, jaw clenched. Wolves could be scared off with a good shot, with bears you would at least register the fangs lunging for you.

She forced her breath steady, tracing a finger over his iridescent scales. Each large like a dinner plate. They were smooth to the touch and shiny enough that she could glean her faint reflection. His hand was dry, with hairs that resembled everything from bristle to fine down. Faint scars and all over. She refrained from pondering.

“It’s a pity that our species don’t get along. I’ve met reputable folk less decent than you,” she said.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” the Jotun answered, “how come nobody cares to help you, anyway?”

“they assume I brought it upon myself. A curse, or something akin to it,”

“A curse. Fascinating.”

“Would you know anything about that?”

“Nope,”

They wandered further. The forest opened up, until he stepped over misty birches. Chills went through her body as the fog enclosed them. Small droplets fell from the sky. Idun shivered. He brought her closer to his chest, sheltering her head with his other palm. It radiated heat and kept the worst winds at bay. He kept on walking, looking right ahead. Rain pattered.

They arrived by the edge. The jotun lowered her onto the ground. Small trees rustled. She got out, taking a wobbly step towards freedom as he readied the sleigh. She made it a few yards before she sat down again. The Jotun looked at her. Idun grumbled and got up again. Long strides on trembling legs. Her knee buckled. His ear twitched.

“You don’t seem well. Will you be able to walk home?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with,” she said, moving her now wet hair out of her face. She grabbed the sleigh and wandered off. Determined. Heaving for air. The Jotun grabbed a canteen off of his hip.

“Drink.” He said, pouring water into it’s lid. “and rest. At least until the sky clears up.”

Idun wanted to argue, but her limbs were heavy and his mind seemed set. She took a sip, which soon turned into greedy gulps. The Jotun settled down.

“It’s better for me to get going now, rather than wait around in this weather,” she said. He laid on his belly, digging a small depression just where his chest met the ground. He pointed at it.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll sit by you, rest against me and you will stay both warm and dry,”

Idun’s mind went blank. She stared at the small dent between his pecs. Then up at him. Then back at the huge, spiky arms that encased the spot like a fortress.

“I’d prefer to make my own bed,” she stammered.

“Fine by me, should I gather straw?”

“It’s all wet regardless,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t mind me asking, but why are you doing all of this?”

“Your kind has a tendency to die rather easily,” he said.

“And how come you care if I live or not? Haven’t you seen a dozen humans die before me?” She said, surveying the rocky landscape for an appropriately sized nook.

“You’ve made me a promise. How will you be able to see it through if you simply expire on the way back?” He said, a bit too matter-of-factly for her liking. She glanced up at him again. He had tucked his limbs close to his belly. The rain had soaked his long thick hair. It concealed most of his face, save one huge, tired eye. His quills all laid flat as he accepted the torrent upon him.

She gave his talons a second look, and went back to searching for a good spot. Eventually she found two large rocks. The gap between could fit no more than a single person. Idun wrapped her woollen coat tightly and cleaved herself between them.

“Would that be comfortable?” the Jotun asked.

“Why? It can’t be too different from what you guys do,” she answered.

“Hm. We do appreciate a little bedding. That seems terribly rough to lay upon,”

“This suits my needs. We can be hardy creatures. Silks and linens are merely a privilege,”

“Oh. Alright,” he mumbled. Idun jammed her arm into whatever crease seemed to fit it. The rock dug into her shoulder. Cold. Wet. Suffocating. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Pill bugs and spiders might have shared estate with her, but at least he would have to dig around for her in a cumbersome fashion instead of snatching her right up. She even had a small gap she could view him though. However she soon realised she was better off trying to ignore the monster in front of her. His noises, his occasional glances, his ability to devour her in one piece should the urge strike. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep. To her surprise her body readily obliged, and she drifted off. Not in a comfortable manner, but rather she was dragged in and out of her dreams. Heavy droplets would wake her, but exhaustion would keep her in place.

She trudged through it, when suddenly she felt a tickle on her back. She jolted awake. The Jotun had placed the flat end of his tail tip over her.

“What are you doing!?” She asked, climbing out in a daze. He flinched, grabbing hold of his tail as if he didn’t know what to do with it nor himself.

“You were shivering something terrible. Without cover you’d easily get sick,”

“It disturbed me.” She said. His ears drooped.

“Would you prefer to be left alone?” He asked. Idun narrowed her eyes. She stared at the dry spot right under his head. She cringed.

“Actually, if you could help me assemble some bedding, I would really appreciate it,” she said, “and if you could place it right here,”

She walked over to a cleave that at the very least blocked out the wind. The Jotun dug up the soil underneath him and ripped out some heather. Idun dodged his wrist as he placed it onto the spot. When he was at a reasonable distance she laid upon it. It kept her off the ground, and the tangled branches seemed to provide some form of insulation. She went to nap again, the thick coat did some to keep the rain from being unbearable, but she still felt cold water run down her neck. Then, all of a sudden the rain ceased. A green glow surrounded her. She looked up, and found herself staring at a huge leaf.