#and god the list for gravity falls is so long

[yoyosuitehearts]

disney+ adding star vs the forces of evil and gravity falls to their pride collection feels like such a slap in the face because if how much they were censored and told they couldn't add lgbtq+ characters

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 5)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, angst, language, dirty talk, digital penetration, etc etc.

So sorry for the wait…I’ve been so busy and I’m scatterbrained as it is. I love you all and appreciate your patience as always! My lovelies, you all own my heart ❤️ Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, I’ll add my taglist tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m tipsy and in a turkey coma. xoxo

It’s early when your heavy eyes reluctantly drift open. Quiet. Silent. Save for the serene, rhythmic push and pull of his soft breath against the nape of your neck. In and out, in and out, like a whispered incantation sent to lull you into his placid waters.

Morning light is threatening to steal the darkness away, inching its way into the room, casting a muted, purple glow against the wall. You snuggle in closer to him and watch the moon prepare to fight the battle it wages ceaselessly. It loses to the sun again and again, and this morning will be no different.

How you wish the moon could win just this once. How you loathe the sun for refusing its slumber. How dare it steal this night away from you? How dare it force you to face the gravity of this life you’ve built without him? Of choice? Of pain either way?

Jake has insisted on sending the others along, promising he won’t be far behind. That he’ll take a car, or catch a short flight…vowing to appear on stage for sound check - the prodigal son returning to whichever arena is next on the list.

You hadn’t needed to hear the opposite end of the conversation last night to know that Josh couldn’t have been happy about it…but, even after all this time, you still know them both well enough to know that Jake’s heels were dug in and that Josh - knowing this, too - wouldn’t fight him too viciously.

“You awake?” His voice, gorgeously gruff with sleep, hushes against your skin just before his lips find a place there with a delicate kiss.

A hum rasps out of you as you stroke your fingers down his forearm, not trusting yourself to speak over the lump pulsing in your throat.

If he understands the reason for your quiet, he doesn’t let on, “God, how fucking perfect is this? You smell so good.”

He trails off, nestling in against you as his arms tighten their hold, tucking you right in until you can feel the drum of his beautiful heart tapping a steady beat against your shoulder blade.

“Do you remember the first time we woke up next to each other?” His lips graze across your bare shoulder gingerly as he whispers to you, calming your mind with his soothing cadence.

“Yes,” how could you ever forget? “It was the morning you told me you loved me. Then we went downstairs and Josh shoveled pancakes onto our plates until we were sick.”

His hand disappears beneath the sheets to feather along your breast..tickling over your nipple until it pebbles, “That was a beautiful morning with my beautiful girl, but it wasn't the first.”

Confused, you sift through memories rapidly. So many of them, and so many of them him…flashes of his face, so stunning and serene in his devotion, his voice, his laugh. Darkened eyes devouring you from above, owning you like a deity you are hopeless to deny, his hands, his heart, his love.

Suddenly, there it is - crystal clear as the spring you had visited that long ago weekend. The memory brings a nostalgic smile playing across your lips. You had all been so young then. So naive of what was to come. Untouchable laughter echoing off trees that had been standing, solemn and still, long enough to know it wouldn’t last. “The UP…camping at Indian Lake. You forgot your tent when we were packing up, and Josh had the most fun making fun of you about it because—“

He interrupts with a spot on impression of his twin, “Who the fuck goes camping and forgets their tent? That’s like—“

You chime in as well, “Going to the vet without your dog.”

“I woke up beside you and I just…” he falls silent for a beat and then marches on with a shaky breath, “You were sleeping so peacefully, so sweetly, like an angel - and he was out there by the fire causing chaos and frying eggs. I laid there beside you and pretended you were mine. Made up a little life for us in my head. We had three girls and a cat who sunbathed at their feet during tea parties in the backyard. They looked just like you. I loved you, and you loved me back.”

“Tell me more.” You urge so softly, you’ve hardly made a sound. “Tell me about our life.”

He cuddles in closer, cheek nuzzling into your tangled hair. “I buy you the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen. And it has a great big covered porch where we like to sit in the evenings. We hold hands on the swing and watch the girls make up elaborate games with the fireflies. Our youngest is the bossiest, and you say she reminds you of Josh. There’s a place in the side yard. I leveled it out just after we moved in so you could plant a garden, and I help you harvest tomatoes in the evenings because you always plant too many.”

“I do not plant too many,” your laugh is gentle, wistful. “I make salsa for your stupid brothers.”

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding along as he continues stroking over your chest, abandoning your breast for the thrum of your heart beneath his palm. “You make salsa for my stupid brothers. The girls complain and bargain for time when we tell them it’s time for baths, but you step in and order them inside because I can’t tell them no.”

“You’re no help at all.” You sigh, sinking into the soft domesticity of the picture he is painting just for you.

“Yes, I am.” He argues, kissing along your jaw. “I help with baths, and then I play them all the prettiest songs I’ve ever written for you until their eyes are hazy enough to drift away. And then I hold your hand some more down the hall, and I close our bedroom door, and I lay you down and remind you of how much I love you until you sound like all those pretty songs I’ve written for you.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the girlish giggle that floats off your tongue. He turns you into liquid bliss so effortlessly, speaking to you like a lullaby until warm, worshipful devotion swells in your chest, leaving room for nothing but Jake.

“Yeah.” His tongue travels over the shell of your ear as he breathes promises into it, twisting and tightening your belly way down deep “And sometimes I remind you slow and sweet…sometimes I hold you like bone china and move gently, and softly, until you’re shaking and fluttering around me, all silk and velvet walls like flower petals. And other times, I give it to you nasty. Fuck you filthy, and dirty, and hard so you’ll remember who my pretty little fuck doll is…and you take my cock like a whore with my hand over your mouth so you don’t wake the neighbors.”

His touch remains far too innocent for the words dripping from his lips like salacious prayers. It’s still playing softly over your heart - perhaps just to feel the quickening of its beats, perhaps just because he has missed it so.

“Touch me.” you shiver as the plea rolls off your tongue, anticipating the way he will give into you, and the way it will feel when he does.

“I am touching you.” He’s burying his face in your hair, breathing you in, filling his lungs with everything he has missed so desperately.

“Don’t tease me.” There’s a pout edging its way into your tone, and he is positively weak for it. He’d like to think that you have never sounded this way for anyone else. He’d like to believe that he has never heard you sound this way…that you have never begged for him with such soft urgency on your tongue.

“Shh, sugar,” he soothes, and the way it slows your pulse like a drug…well, you can almost believe that nothing has ever been wrong with your world. You can almost believe that you’ve lived all of your lifetimes here in this room with him, wrapped up in the sheets, safe and so, so loved. “you know I’m gonna take care of my girl. You just close your eyes, baby, alright? Just close your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter shut as though he has willed them so, and then his fingers are winding the gentlest trail down your body, slipping like hot silk down your stomach, and then to your thigh to pull it to the side, opening you up for him.

“I think about this all the time.” he confesses, sweeping his fingertips against your entrance and then over your clit once his touch is slick and warm. “Lying with you. Talking with you in bed the way we used to. Feeling your hair tickle my cheek. Watching you sigh for me, wet and aching for me, for what I can give you…nobody else.”

“Nobody else, Jake,” you nod feverishly as he begins drawing delicate circles over your swollen clit. “Nobody else.”

“Do you think about me, too?” his mouth hovers over your pulse, tracing an S for his sugar against it. “When you’re all alone?”

His touch is picking up in pace, those goddamed fingers of his that seem to somehow vibrate, they know every inch of you…how to touch you. How to take you apart. How to play you. You are his favorite instrument.

“Yes,” it stutters out of you, inarticulate and clumsily, but he loves it all the more for it.

“Yeah?” there it is, that smug air in his tone that makes your entire body throb with want. “Does my sweet little girl touch herself when no one is around to see? Does my sugar call my name when she slips her hand between these pretty thighs?”

“Jake, please…” your grip has found its way around his wrist, tight and sure, to keep his hand where you so badly need it.

“Stop begging, baby,” he croons, pressing kisses against your temple, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you cum, soft and gentle, ‘cause you’re my beautiful fucking girl. And then you’re going to ride my cock filthy, fuck doll.”

A sound that you ought to be ashamed of claws its way out of your chest, feral and furious in your need as you rock your hips into his hand. His pace never falters, never varies, as he whispers praise and vulgarities into your ear, skilled fingers swirling and swirling and swirling over your clit until you’re right fucking there.

“Come on, pretty girl…” more kisses to your temple as adulation tumbles from his lips endlessly. “Give it to me, sugar, give it to me.”

It spreads itself out in your body like a heavy swallow of red wine. unfurling inside you like euphoric heat, curling your toes and prickling your scalp as it trips up your spine. It’s so delicate and light, his touch like a feather against your clit as it trembles and twitches…and just like always, he knows, and works you through it softly, gingerly, reverently, until the tide pulls back.

“You made a mess, baby.” he teases, whispering into the crook of your neck with a smile on his lips and his fingers now curling across the pillow of his tongue.

“Whose fault is that?” you pant back, working hard to chase down your breath.

“I’ll own making a mess of your pretty cunt any day, sweetheart…any fucking day.”

You roll your eyes without much conviction, for you adore his obscene prose “Poetic.”

He rolls onto his back, tugging you along for the ride until you are perched above and straddling him.

He looks like a fallen, arcane angel beneath you, with his hair snarled and knotted against the pillow, eyes clouded with lust and darkened with blown pupils, lips pink and tumid - parted and pretty.

“You’re beautiful.” you shake your head in wonder. He is exquisite. Ethereal. Flawless. Precious.

He shakes his head right back, cupping your cheek, “You’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful sugar. I have loved you forever and I will love you always.”

With your cheeks heating under his awestruck scrutiny, you bite down on your lip coyly…you haven’t forgotten that he likes a hint of innocence now and then. “Did I hear you mention something about riding your cock filthy, Jakey? Or did I misunderstand?”

His palm is wrapped around your throat in a breath, pulling your mouth down to his. He licks against your tongue with a menacing hum. “You wanna ride my cock, baby? You wanna fuck me dirty while I lie back and watch you do all the work like my good little girl?”

A shiver shimmies your shoulders as your gaze flutters away abashedly, inexplicably shy.

“Aw,” it isn’t taunting, he sounds genuinely starstruck by the bashful blush coloring the apples of your cheeks. “Look at my sweetheart. Does it still make you a little soft when I tell you what a good girl you are for me? You like that?”

You nod, and this time, when your teeth sink into your bottom lip, it isn’t contrived.

“I know, sugar…” he pets at your face like you’re fragile, made of glass and dear to his heart. “It always has. You are, you know? You’re my very good girl and I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world. Nothing even comes close.”

Emboldened and driven half crazy by the love he is wringing from his heart, you rise up on your knees and issue an order, which doesn’t make you a very good girl at all. “Put it in.”

A huff of wanton breath escapes him, and then, with one hand wrapped around his thick cock, and the other digging into your hip, he pulls you down and buries himself inside you.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” it’s a hitching groan that rattles in his chest. “Look at you, wrapped up sweet and pink around me. Pretty as a picture, aren’t you, baby? Taking this cock. So fucking tight. You feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you can’t manage much else as your nails dig into his chest for purchase, head tipping back as you begin to ride him fast and hard, forgoing an easy lead up…you need him too badly.

His tip, so thick and perfect, begins spoiling over the sweetest spot inside you when he angles your hips…knocking against it until the air is punching from your lungs with every downward swivel of your hips.

“That’s the spot right there, isn’t it, sugar?” he voice, rasping and strangled with pleasure drags you closer and closer. “Right there, huh? That’s where my girl needs my cock…right fucking there.”

“Yes! Right there…” you repeat, blathering on with your hands on your own tits, twisting and tugging at your nipples as your thighs burn and scream for mercy you don’t care to give them. “Right there right there right there…”

“Yeah? You want it right there?” his thumb drops to your clit as he drinks you in, savoring you as you work yourself into a frenzy above him. “You take it right there, pretty girl…you just fucking take it.”

You can feel him twitching and straining inside your clenching cunt, and you know desperate little spurts of precum must be steadily leaking from his cock…the thought only serves to make you coil around him even more viciously.

“Sugar,” there’s a frantic edge coloring his tone now. He’s close. “Please, baby…you’re squeezing me…so fucking…fuck, fuck…ease up, sweetheart, please. Relax that sweet little cunt for me. Baby, baby, baby…” he thrashes his head back and forth against the pillow, brow furrowed and tipped up as though he is anguished.

“No.” you’re wild and panting, sweating and clawing at his chest with unhinged need. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh god…” it hushes out of him, winded and ragged, like he’s afraid he won’t make it long enough to get you there. “C’mon, pretty girl, come on. Right on my cock. Soak it, sweetheart. I want you all fucking over me.”

“Fuck me back,” you’re clutching at his shoulders now, scrambling for purchase against his drenched, glistening skin. “Hard. Fuck me back.”

His hips begin driving up to meet you, hard and fast, slamming his cock into you over and over through gritted teeth and gutteral grunts of pleasure and agony as he fights his own release.

Arms up suddenly, he curls them violently around your shoulders, holding you still against his lap as best he can, but you continue to grind into him, working yourself back and forth over his cock, chasing and chasing and chasing that end you so badly need.

“Hold fucking still,” grits out through clenched teeth as your lips press and sway against his sweating forehead, “I’m gonna cum, sugar. Don’t move, don’t move!”

His palm lands hard against your ass in punishment for your disobedience, gripping and pulling at it, but it merely spurs you on.

“You said you wanted me to ride your cock filthy,” your words are airy puffs of taunting breath. “so fucking take it Jakey, take it.”

He doubles over into you, burying his face between your breasts and crying out into their rounded softness as he lets go inside you, painting you warm and wetter than you already were…biting and sucking, consuming you as if he wants to swallow you whole.

It’s your name, whimpering and keening out of him like a psalm that sends you tumbling along right behind him with a gushing pulse and a shaking inward pull of breath that exhales with his name to match your own still lingering on his lips.

A strange calm finds you both as you struggle to breathe wrapped up tight and tangled together in the ruined sheets and humid air. But it is a familiar calm…one that so often crept in between the two of you after you had lost yourselves the way you’ve just lost yourselves.

“No one,” his fingers tap down your spine and linger in the dimples that grace the base, “could ever make me feel the way you make me feel, sugar. No one. Ever.”

“Jake.” you sigh, and he hears a thousand words inside it.

“I know, baby.” he’s stroking through your hair now, pacifying you so all of that feverish energy will seep from your veins gently. “I know.”

~

The sun has bullied its way into the sky fully, washcloth he so lovingly swept over you now rinsed and folded over the bathroom sink, glass of water he carried in, sipped at and now lazily dripping condensation onto the nightstand.

Top sheet pulled over the fitted sheet in a half-hearted attempt to rectify the wrongs inflicted towards the bed, your bodies are twisted up below the soft, generic duvet.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He whispers, tracing his fingers along the bridge of your nose. “I can feel it.”

“What happens now, Jake?’ You stroke his nose right back. “I’m just going to walk away from my life and follow you around the world? Like nothing ever happened?”

“Yes.” He says it like it could all be just that easy, and how you wish that were so.

“It doesn’t work that way.” He’s a dreamer. Always has been.

“So, tell me how it works then, sugar.” He pulls you into a blink of a kiss. “You go back to him, and I go back to misery and that’s it for you and I? We wake up every morning for the rest of our lives wishing things were different? Aching for each other? You tell me how that makes fucking sense.”

“Because this is real life, Jake.” Do you even believe your own bullshit? You have to, right? “This isn’t some pretty little story you’re telling. We aren’t picking tomatoes in the garden.”

God, how you hate yourself.

“We could be though.” His promises would be so lovely to slip away into…if only it could be that simple. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “It could be so simple, sugar. None of this other shit matters. We matter.”

He can’t be argued with, so instead, you simply nestle your cheek against his chest and linger in this time you have left with him.

“Will you at least leave me your number before you go? So I can call to say hello every once in a while?”

He’s giving in far too easily. He’s lying. You know he is, and he knows it just as well. He isn’t going away, and he doesn’t plan on giving up.

He has decided to stand his ground this time around. This time, for you, he has decided to fight…

and god help anyone who tries to stand in his way.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @jakesgrapejuice @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[thebestbooksaround]

This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Spousal Secrets and Celebrity Crushes by AshwinMeird (@ashwinmeird) | 9k | General

Eddie joined the 118 and Hen learned plenty about his husband and son through endless stories, but she knew almost nothing about Buck. Then a movie being filmed not far from the station starts to become very relevant to her life. Or Five times Hen was confused about Eddie's husband and One time it all made sense

i'll walk through fire for you by prettyboybuckley (@greyacebuckley) | 3k | General

Eddie just shrugs, and they leave him alone, chattering about something he tunes out as he stares out the window. At least, until Bobby starts briefing them on what they're walking into.

He hears the address, and his stomach turns. That's where Buck lives. 

"There was an explosion somewhere in the building," Bobby tells them over the comms. "Third floor is fully engulfed, the building is unstable, and there are people trapped up there, still. There's one other firehouse on the scene already."

OR: In a universe where Buck is not a firefighter but they're still best friends, Eddie gets called to a fire at Buck's apartment building

call you home by ashavahishta (@ashavahishta) | 6k | General

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless | 15k | Explicit

Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

the handyman can ('cause he fixes it with love) by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) | 4k | Teen

Eddie’s first thought when he opens the door is that Hen’s finally getting payback for Eddie hustling her in pool last Friday. The guy standing on the stoop is sweaty, smiling, with biceps that look like they could jaws-of-life a car all on their own and a very pink, very biteable kiss of a birthmark above his crinkled blue eyes. His toolbelt looks like every toolbelt from every bad porn movie ever, slung absurdly low on his hips, and the acid-wash jean shorts he’s wearing absolutely cannot be OSHA-approved.

Eddie decidedly does not look at the thick muscle of the guy’s thighs when he says, “uh, I think you have the wrong house.”

we can’t fight gravity (love is like falling) by alasse (@alasse9) | 21k | Teen

Eddie is an actor (a former child star of a major franchise who only does weird indie movies nowadays), and Buck is still a firefighter. The universe screams at them a few times—through a tsunami, an unfortunate misunderstanding, and an emergency at a movie set—until they finally get it together.

Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HMSLusitania (@hmslusitania) | 21k | Mature

Eddie's PTSD is just that little bit worse and when he moves to Los Angeles, instead of joining the LAFD, he joins dispatch.

Which is all good and fine, except for this one firefighter he keeps ending up talking to.

(is in the back of my mind and on the tip of my tongue) by waferkya (@oursisthewinter) | 17k | Teen

Soft, dark hair, just long enough to begin curling at the tips; expressive eyebrows and an impossibly straight nose that should belong on some Greek statue, full pink lips stretched in a wide smile just this side of goofy, and a wonderful amount of stubble dusting his jaw; broad shoulders hugged to perfection by the dark blue police uniform, his entire body a stretch of tight muscle. Yeah, yup, yes. Chim is not wrong. The man is handsome as sin. Also, he’s a cop, which—hi, hello, that’s hot.

[AU in which Eddie is a cop who just moved to LA; Buck has zero self-esteem, a praise kink the size of the desert and no clue on how to pick a decent Dom; and eventually love conquers all.]

Write me into your happy ending... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 16k | Teen

Four years ago when Eddie and Christopher started reading the book series about Daniel's Adventures together before bedtime, Eddie never would have guessed that he would run into the author of said book series in the middle of a Barnes & Noble in LA. He also wouldn't have guessed that said encounter would begin with him sternly lecturing the stranger and making a slight fool of himself. Nor would he have predicted that this terrible first impression would somehow make the published author want to give his phone number to Eddie.

Or, Eddie the firefighter and Buck the writer have a meet-cute, and things progress from there.

i wanna be known (by you) by chasingoblivion (@starlightbuck) | 12k | General

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief. “How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?” Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

String of hearts... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 11k | Teen

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos | 31k | Mature

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck.

With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys.

AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

serendipity (can't get him off my mind) by elless | 7k | Teen

Buck has his job at the daycare, his sister, and good friends. And not much else. His life hasn't turned out how he expected. Then he gets a wrong number text that changes everything. He and Eddie click instantly, but Eddie lives in Texas while Buck is in LA. It can never work, especially if Buck is too afraid to make a move.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno | 23k | Teen

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day.

Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (@florenceandthemachine) | 8k | Explicit

unknown sender: Hi! unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run. unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way. sent: hey um sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black (@redtooblack) | 13k | Mature

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer.

(Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

i'm gonna make this place your home by chromatophorica (@chromatophorica) | 11k | Teen

"Hey, did you know that other people can go to the kids' islands on that game?" He asks Hen the following day at work, stocking up the ambulance with her while Chim teaches the probie how to roll hoses.

"Yeah, I mean, they go to each other's all the time." Which, yeah, in a way, Eddie knew that part

"No, I mean other people, like people on the internet or whatever." Hen shoots him a look, one that states he's showing his usual technophobic ways again. “I'm just saying, some person that Chris called 'Buck' was on his island just like... giving him things.” It feels a lot like those stories about grooming or whatever, when the internet was new and people pretended to be something they weren't. What if this Buck person was an old guy in a creepy basement trying to befriend kids on a game? --- During the pandemic, Christopher gets more involved in online gaming. Eddie promptly freaks out when he realises his son has made a friend through the games. It takes Chimney's girlfriend and a car crash to understand how important that friend will be.

[fukmeintheassandcallmecastiel]

I've completely forgotten how to make friends online and would like to start again after a years long tumblr hiatus.

In an attempt, I am going to try and list every one of my favorite shows, games and so on and have my DMs open for people to say hi if they'd like. No pressure to message, of course. You can also comment on or reblog this post if you're more comfortable with that!

-J

Shows: Hannibal, Moral Orel, Loki, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Sherlock, Good Omens, The Boys, Invincible, Legend of Vox Machina, Gravity Falls, Inside Job, Bojack Horseman, Futurama, Over the Garden Wall, Cowboy Bebop, Shameless

Games: Baldur's Gate 3, Disco Elysium, Cult of the Lamb, Hollow Knight, Detroit: Become Human, Rimworld, Scarlet Hollow, the Stanley Parable (and sequel), Terraria, Transistor, Vampire Survivors, Hades, Oxenfree 1+2, Slay the Spire, Little Misfortune, Detention, Legend of Zelda, Geometry Dash, Norco

Podcasts: Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Old Gods of Appalachia, the Silt Verses

Hobbies/interests: Magic the Gathering, Dungeons and Dragons (and PF2e), hiking, walks in nature, music, podcasts, Norse mythology, eldritch horror, writing, reading, pirates, the Salem witch trials, birds and plants

Music: MGMT, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Tame Impala, Ween, Pink Floyd, AC/DC, Marina, The Amazing Devil, Fish in a Birdcage, Half Alive, AJR, Will Wood, Tally Hall, Cosmo Sheldrake, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, SEATBELTS, SKÁLD

[ohtobeleah]

Panic Room // Jake Seresin

Summary: Between his ex, bird strikes and suicidal mission parameters it’s hard to keep a lid on things. So when you help Jake through a panic attack in the locker room, you become his lifelong lifeline.

Warnings: Panic Attacks. Mentions of bisexuality. Jake Seresin x Platonic!F!reader.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Day Eight of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Panic Attack. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It’s the way Jake's flight suit feels on his body that comes first. Usually the Normex onesie doesn’t bother him, but as he made strides up the tarmac straight for the hanger, it felt like the weight of the world had come down on him. Crushing his existence, petrifying his soul. 

“Hey Hangman—“ He doesn’t register whose voice it is until he sees Fanboy racing up beside him. “You okay man?” Jake doesn’t respond, he just keeps putting one foot in front of the other until he’s found himself back in the locker room. It’s empty, thank god. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Next it’s the heat, his body temperature has skyrocketed. He can feel his skin boiling against the surface of the sink he’s choosing to rest his palms on while he stares himself down in the mirror. Jake can recognise the reddish hume that’s taking his cheeks hostage and the ruby red rash that’s littering his neck. A physical attribute that gave away immediately what was happening. 

But he couldn't stop the fear from consuming him entirely. 

“No no no no no—“ Not long after the heat had started to overwhelm him, the palpitations began. Jake could feel his heart hammering away inside his chest and while he tried to calm himself down by splashing water across his face, it didn’t seem to help. It didn’t curve the rise of his panic—the overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety that crept up on him like a title wave growing and growing and growing in the distance. 

You know something’s building, but by the time you understand that it’s a wall of water heading your way you’re already caught in its deathly path. Unable to run, unable to get out of the way. You have nothing left to do except to hold your breathe and hopefully float up to the top of the wall of water coming at you at a hundred miles an hour. 

“100–“ It’s a coping mechanism. “96, 92, 88–“ Jake Seresin has done this for many years and he’d continue to do it for many more. “84, 80–“ But it’s not helping, nothings helping. “Okay, you’re okay—“ Nothing ever helps, not the usually cool, calm and cock sure Aviator that people look at for reassurance in themselves. Jake wasn't afraid of anything–not according to his fellow aviators. So when he watched from the rec room as Bob and Phoenix burned in, he knew that he had to get out of the line of sight before he completely lost his mind. 

“Fuck!” Jake pushed himself away from the sink and started to make his way over to his locker, he’d just watched Natasha Phoenix Trace and Robert Bob Floyd fall from the sky before their F-18 crashed into a fiery ball of debris and it sparked the fuse, the ever looming presence of existential danger that lingered over Jake. The fear he had since day one, that he’d burn in and burn in alone. 

The panic attacks though, they started right after his first air to air kill. Something about the gravity of taking another life really made his heart race. They got worse however when Bradley Rooster Bradshaw broke his heart, left him high and dry and said he couldn’t do their relationship anymore. Jake thought it was ironic that his callsign was Hangman when it was always Bradshaw that was leaving him out to dry. 

And being here? In Miramar with his ex boyfriend skulking around like he was the most downtrodden man on planet earth and his colleagues falling from the sky and the goddamn mission parameters that sounded an awful lot like a suicide mission, made up a perfectly concocted environment to seemingly disintegrate the facade of an egomaniacal man who just couldn’t stand to be second place. 

Jake had worked too hard on his exoskeleton persona for it to be flawed by panic attacks. He wouldn't let his colleague see him like this, so weak and broken and– 

“Hangman?” Fuck….

Your voice sounded muffled at first, maybe it was because of the buzzing in Jake's ears or the fact he could practically feel his blood pumping in his veins. “Jake?” But the more you spoke the clearer your voice became. “Fanboy said he saw you run in here, you alright?” 

“Fine.” Jake struggled out as he undid his flight suit and ripped his arms from the sleeves. “All good.” You knew he was lying, you could hear the struggle in his voice. But when you saw how soaked his black T-shirt was against his skin, you knew it had to have been bad. 

“Hangman?” You stepped a little closer, slowly, like you were trying your very best not to spook a wild animal. “You can talk to me, if you want to.” You and Jake were considered for the most part to be friendly. For a little while before you were called back to TopGun—you were his wing woman when you were both assigned/attached to the strike fighter squadron VFA-151 Vigilantes. “But if you say you’re okay, I believe you.” You and Jake had gotten close there at one point, and maybe in another life the two of you could have been more. 

But it wasn't meant to be. He was far too arrogant for his own good and you were far too inside your one head to be able to deal with such an extraverted soul. 

“I’m—“ Jake stopped himself for a moment as he spun around to lean against the lockers. He couldn’t stop the panic as his hands shook and his heart raced, causing him to hyperventilate. “It’s just a—“ 

“Panic attack.” You finished Jake's sentence for him as you moved closer to sit on the bench in front of where he stood. You didn’t want to invade his personal space, but you wanted him to know that you weren’t going anywhere unless he asked you to leave. “My uh—my sister would experience them pretty frequently when we were teenagers, she always felt like she was dying.” 

“I can’t breathe.” Jake had all the coping mechanisms he ever needed in order to persevere through an attack. But right now? With you sitting in front of him as he leaned up against the lockers with a heavy heart inside his chest and skin that looked flushed to the touch—he’d forgotten them all. “I can’t breathe!” 

“Okay.” You stood slowly, reaching out for Jake’s hands to give them a firm squeeze. “Here, squeeze my hand back.” You’d never seen your wingman like this before, so vulnerable. Jake was normally this broad shouldered man with emerald green eyes who could conquer anything. He’d said it himself at the Hard Deck, the mission didn’t confront him. But it clearly did. “Come on, squeeze my hands.” When Jake finally did what you were asking him to do, you smiled softly up at him and reached out for his cheek to gently rub the pad of your thumb across the flushed skin of his cheek. 

“Good, now look at me Hangman.” Jake again did as he was told and you really had to stop yourself from getting lost in his emerald gaze. “Take a deep breath in, hold it just for two seconds, and slowly exhale alright? I’ll do it with you, keep squeezing my hands.” 

Jake never took his eyes off you as he slowly but surely did as you instructed. He slid down the lockers, his knees had become too weak to hold the weight of the world that had crumbled around him. 

“I don't even know why–” Jake tried to speak as he slowly but surely slid down the lockers, his back scratched against the doors as he did so. “Why you’re doing this?” 

“Easy, easy big guy.” You cooed as you followed Jake down as his back slid down the lockers. You sat next to him, taking deep breaths in and exhaling just the same. Still squeezing each other's hands until Jake wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. “And we’re friends aren't we? Or something like that, it's what friends do I guess.” 

“Are they alright?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall to your shoulder, exhausted and completely numb. “Phoenix and Bob?” You knocked your boot against Jakes in return. 

“Yeah, they’ll probably be kept overnight for observation but I’ll check with Mav once I’m finished with you.” You replied as you just sat with Jake, still hand in hand. He didn’t want to let go. “And for the record, I don’t think you should be picking fights with your ex in the middle of debriefing sessions—if you still love him, just tell him man, my god.” 

“Bradshaw doesn't deserve it, he likes to play the victim of his own confidence.” It was the first time Jake had actually confirmed to you that Bradley was in fact the ex that left him out to dry. There had been a few nights over a few beers that Jake had mentioned his ex boyfriend, but never did he ever mention a name. You only started to connect the dots once you were here and had seen the pair of them interact. “I just like stirring the pot.” Jake smiled as he felt his heart rate settling. “Probably stirred the pot a little too much though.” He sighed before admitting defeat. “I haven’t had a real bad one like that for a while.” 

“If you ever have one again, you can always call me.” You say without hesitation. “I mean it, I’ve got you.” 

“You’ve got me do you?” Jake asked as he raised his head from your shoulder. You turned to look up at him and nodded. “Best wingman around, aren't you Ace?” You could tell Jake was settling into his skin again, the panic had begun to subside into his mind again, the adrenaline had begun to deplete and he was mellowing out. He was calming down. You had calmed him down.

“Someone’s gotta look after you.” It was the nonchalant shrug that made Jake chuckle. He liked you, he always had. You were fun and energetic and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, including him. Which was refreshing all things considered, everyone always had someone bad to say about Jake Seresin. 

“And that someone’s you?” Jake even thought to himself a time or two that he could see himself rebuilding his love life with you. Meaningless one night stands were fine, but he wanted more—he needed depth and intelligence that buckle bunnies and Bradley Bradshaw never seemed to give him. All the lights were on and yet no one was home with that man. 

“Unfortunately that responsibility was bestowed upon me.” You teased as you stood and reached out to give Jake a hand up. He took it even though he didn’t need it. “So yeah, I’ve got you anytime you need me.” 

“I’ll do my best to remember that.” Jake replied as he cleared his throat, the room spun for a moment but he caught himself quickly. “I should probably have a shower.” 

“Yeah—just don’t have the water too hot, it can mess with you after an attack.” You explained like it was knowledge that just roamed free in your kind. Jake raised a single brow your way. He knew. He knew by the crescent moon scars in your palms that you knew what it was like to drown on dry land.

“Like I said, my sister gets them bad too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt t

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.  

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Four

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! School is now back in full swing for me, and it's been hella stressful, but I wanted y'all to know I'll be updating every two weeks now. I wanted to thank you for the continuous support you have shown me, even those who haven't commented and such. I see you! Things are starting to heat up now, so stay with me as the story progresses! <3

Chapter Warnings: Minor x Minor sexual situations, Aegon and you being absolute heathens. 

A snore woke the eldest Prince up, eyelids fluttering at the noise below him. 

His sweet girl was fast asleep, tired from a long day exploring the many things King's Landing had to offer. Aegon ordered the guests in the private room to leave some time ago, wanting personal time with his dragon.

He had wanted to go farther with you but thought better of it. He knew you would leave him at the drop of a needle if he did anything that displeased you. 

You were a more outspoken and self-assured young woman than many of the so-called "Lords" in the royal court. Aegon admired you for that.

Gods. His life could have been so different if Daemon had known about you. If that bitch Madam had not hidden you away from him for so long. He wanted to make up for that lost time, knowing what it could have been like now.

Aegon had tasted the forbidden fruit; he realized as he drifted off into a slumber similar to your own, falling asleep within seconds.

***

Ser Erryk Cargyll had finally decided to find the crowned Prince. He knew Aegon would have his fun and eventually head back to the Red Keep, but it had been nearly a day and a half, and Aegon still had yet to return. He soon found out why seeing an unconscious girl on top of him. Ser Erryk did not question it, only looking at the child with pity. He could only imagine what Aegon had subjected her to. Erryk shoved the girl off him, her still heavily drunk body flopping onto the floor.

You groaned, rolling onto your side as you pried your eyes open. The different concoctions of alcohol still coursed through your veins, your vision only slight blobs of color in the dim light. It was a rude awaking. Your annoyance at whoever threw you off the bed and onto the tile floor was intense. You had thought, how dare they wake you up as you raised into a seated position. Sitting upright did not help your need for rest, feeling as if gravity was pushing you into the floor.

Erryk touched Prince Aegon's shoulder, attempting to spare him some dignity of respect for the crown. Of course, Aegon didn't budge, sound asleep to dreams of soft, nimble fingers running through his short hair, nails scraping his scalp.

"My Prince." Erryk tried again to wake Aegon, but he was far too gone, the endless cups taking their toll.

You tilted your head at the man and saw a blurry outline of what looked like a shiny rectangle, sparkles dotting your vision. 

What was a rectangle doing waking up the crowned Prince? You couldn't help but giggle as you saw them move Aegon again, he ignoring the intruder and rolling on his side. Aegon could handle his alcohol during the process, but Gods help anyone who tried to mess with him after.

"Your grace, you must wake up," he asked, louder this time. Aegon groaned, smacking the man's hands away as he flopped down into his pillow. 

You laughed again, your heavy body thumping on the floor as you continued your drunken fit. The man glared down at you, annoyed that you found his current predicament amusing. You would be of little help in your state, even if you wanted to.

Ser Erryk was beginning to feel a familiar disdain bubble up inside him. He didn't know why Prince Aegon continually sullied the Targaryen's name. 

After years of being chastised and embarrassed, drug back to the Red Keep day in and day out, having his Mother scream at him for the coffers he slowly drained, he ought to have learned. But he did not. Eyrrk felt that he never would, having been raised as an uncollared dog. He waited patiently for Aegon to be put on a leash-- put in his proper place. Whether it be by Rhaenyra taking her spot as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, or a tampered glass of wine, he did not care.

"Aegon, I think he wants you to wake up," you teased from your spot on the ground, rolling slightly from the tingles in your limbs.

You were a drunken, uncontrollable giggling mess watching the man move about the room, finding a filled pitcher and pouring it onto the Prince's head. A muffled "No" sounded from the feather-tick pillow Aegon was smothering his face in. Your stomach hurt, your sides stitching as he shot up, gasping from the cold liquid as his shirt stained a pinkish color.

"I am glad you find my suffering amusing, little one," he jested, although glaring daggers at the man.

"Come, my Prince, it is midday, and your Father wishes your family to sup in honor of your Uncle's arrival." The man hoisted him up, his armor clinking as he wrapped his arm around Aegon's shoulder.

"My Uncle has dined with us many times before, Ser Erryk. I do not see the importance of this one," he protested, slumping over.

"Your King commands it, my Prince. It was not a suggestion," the man you have come to know as Ser Erryk said.

"The King demands it, or does my Mother? Do not lie to me. You know that man has not spoken coherently since he was put on The Poppy." Erryk pursed his lips, not dignifying the boy with a response.

You watched them with a slowly falling smile as he led Aegon to the exit, nearly tripping over the uneven floor. The terrifying thought of walking alone on the streets of Kings Landing caused you to let out a loud sob, quickly covering your mouth so no one could hear. You didn't know where to go, a hopeless feeling drowning you in your vulnerable state.

Aegon turned and saw your crumbled figure on the floor, your dark hair a mess from last night's sweating, dancing, and drinking. His little dragon, alone without a rider to claim her. He would have to remedy that.

"She comes with me." Aegon pointed to you, his words firm and no hint of second guesses. Ser Erryk scowled, questioning the Prince he served.

"The whore?" He asked bluntly, making you mirror his sour expression. But before you could speak, Aegon did it for you.

"She is not a whore," he defended you, and your heart melted. It felt different than how Madam would. Instead of the usual threats and yelling, he stood up for you. He said no great show of ruffled feathers and loud barking only, "she will return with us to the Red Keep and dine with my family."

Ser Cargyll wanted to protest and explain to the Prince how improper-- how insulting this would be to his Mother. To have a lowly whore dine with the royal family was... fitting for Aegon, he had to admit. You attempted to stand but fell back down onto the tile, heel catching on your dress. Heat covered your cheeks and ears from the embarrassment.

"Your grace, she cannot even stand," he said, a protest hidden behind the concern for your well-being.

"Then you will carry her," Aegon retorted as if it was apparent. He freed himself from the knight's grip, stumbling slightly as he regained his balance. "I can walk myself, Ser Erryk. Tend to the lady," he nodded in your direction.

Erryk did not challenge him anymore, understanding that refusing his request further could cost him his knighthood or possibly his life. He stomped with his white-plated armor, clinking with each step as he threw you over his shoulder. You squealed, kicking your legs on instinct as his cold metal breastplate jabbed into your stomach, but after a few steps and a sudden wave of nausea, you began to forget.

Balling your fists, you willed yourself not to vomit. A combination of pride and solely not wanting to hurl your entire belly gave you strength as you swayed over Ser Erryk's back.

Aegon was immensely annoyed at his Mother for cutting his enjoyable sleep short, but he found the whole ordeal amusing as the three of you left the brothel and smiled to himself. He knew tonight's dinner would change everything as he trailed behind on the path to the Red Keep, watching your face turn different shades of green. He was sure it would change for good, at least for him. Daemon wanted you for some reason or another, and Aegon was willing to bet that Rhaenyra had something to do with it. Daemon had no paternal bone in his body for girls, having been raised in a society that let men do as they please.

Though Aegon was drunk most of the time when the Valaryian girls visited the palace, he could still see how Daemon was disconnected from them. He could not train the pair in the art of the sword or take them to war, let alone have them attend the revelries he frequented. He still loved his children, but an arm's length was where he kept them. A blind man could see that.

Frankly, you had no idea where you were going at this point. Something about the Red Keep mentioned earlier was all you could remember, but you couldn't trust your memories yet. You could see flashes of black leather boots when you dared open your eyes, your head thumping in time with the steps. The soft rumble of male voices conversing in the background eased your discomfort, but you could not discern what they were saying. You faintly recognized the smooth timber of one of them, enough for you to calm.

Shouting soon clouded your senses instead, the sound of words being relayed to multiple people as a loud thud boomed in the air. You attempted to cover your ears, but the movement put all your weight on your stomach, and you let out a loud belch. You tried to hold your laughter back, hiding your face in Ser Erryk's armor. Another person joined your immaturity, which only served to foil any attempt at holding your composure.

Erryk stiffened at your childishness, unimpressed with how unladylike you were being. You were just as much of an embarrassment as him. He now understood why Aegon brought you along. The Queen would surely die from shame tonight. He mentally prepared for it, sending a silent prayer to The Seven as the three of you entered the Red Keep.

***

The land between sleep and consciousness rocked you in its embrace the entirety of the day, or, at least, what you assumed it was. You hadn't strictly kept track of how much time had passed. Was it today, or was it the morrow? Or, somehow, in a wicked twist of karmic retribution, was it years from now?

You would never drink again.

Sweat clung to your skin, a blanket of sticky fluids wrapped snuggly around your body as you tugged at your dress. Everything was too tight-- too hot. The woolen fabric trapped in all your heat as you wriggled like a babe attempting to escape its swaddle.

"What's wrong, little one," Aegon asked, his voice gravelly with sleep. You hadn't a clue where you were or how he got here, but you didn't care.

"Get this Gods forsaken dress off me," you demanded, still struggling in vain with the unforgiving fabric.

Aegon blinked at you, his hair in greasy white tangles and dark circles contrasting his pale skin. Surely you did not ask him to undress you. The Green Fairy must still be playing tricks on him.

"Aegon, help me," you whined. You managed to get your skirt stuck over your head, making the already troublesome task even more difficult. He sighed through his nose, playfully annoyed. He could never be cross with you.

He sat up and slid closer, flipping the outer layer of your dress back down before positioning you on your side. Aegon knew you could not keep yourself upright, electing to loosen the strings on your back before shimmying the fabric down.

He paused at the sight of your exposed shoulder. The dark hair of your scalp ran down the sides of your neck, fading into a fine fuzz that stood at his touch. He moved the long strands from your back, trailing his fingers down your bones like raindrops sliding on your flushed skin. You hummed in delight, rolling until your shoulder blades touched his cold chest. While you felt like a wood stove, he radiated a chill that swept the streets of Kings Landing during winter nights.

"That feels nice," you sighed absentmindedly, pulling on your sleeve to pop your arm out. "Gods, this is the worst," you mumbled. 

The other sleeve refused to budge, cutting into the base of your neck as you flopped like a hooked fish trying to rip it off. He helped you again, sitting up and exposing your thin chemise.

Sweat stains covered the delicate fabric, the originally white coloring now a tan-yellowish color from days of skipped washing. Aegon didn't mind. He was well aware that he did not look much better after a night of drinking and fucking. It was one of the many reasons everyone within the castle walls turned their nose away from him.

He did not train his violet eyes on the dirty cloth but on what lay underneath. The protrusion of your shoulder blades, the outline of your back, and your shape. He felt himself stop breathing, gulping down a lump that formed in his throat at the personal view of your figure. To all others who glanced, you were a plain-looking girl, the only remarkable thing about you being the white streak in your hair. If only they took a moment more to look at you, they would see you for what you indeed are—a God amongst men.

"Still too hot," you groaned, moving your arms to take your underdress off. Aegon quickly grabbed your hand, stopping you from exposing yourself utterly bare in front of him.

"You must keep your modesty, sweetling," he said. The words almost sounded like a plead, an exemplary sentence to one's child.

He did not know where a sudden urge to protect your honor came from.

Aegon was never much for caring about his pride, let alone a woman's. He was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for his debauchery, yet a bastard maiden from Flea Bottom brought out his conscience.

"I do not care, my Prince." Even with the words slurred out, he could still hear the condescension that came with his title. He pursed his lips, racking his brain for a way to redirect your attention from trying to unclothe yourself.

"How about some wine? To cool you off," he offered, but you shook your head vehemently, causing it to spin.

"No! No more wine Aegon; I cannot think straight." You looked as if you were about to vomit. The heat mixing with your upset stomach was a potent concoction that spelled disaster.

"Water then," he said, opening his chamber doors and barking the order to someone you couldn't see.

Aegon released a gasp when he turned back around, seeing you had ignored his warnings and attempted to take the chemise off yourself, your head somehow stuck in the armhole and your arms poking through the neck. His pupils dilated at the curve of your thighs, an almost invisible line of dark hair trailing down your stomach to a sparse tuft between your legs. All the blood in his body rushed to his cock, a jolt of arousal at seeing such indecent parts of you.

He wanted to pounce. He wanted to rip that damnable piece of clothing off your body and stuff it in your mouth as he claimed your maidenhood.

Hearing and touch were the only two senses left that weren't wholly distorted by the copious amount of alcohol you drank the night prior. Touch: the fabric of your smock strangling your limbs and rubbing your skin raw. Hearing: the floorboards creaking with someone's weight as they stepped closer to you.

A hand subconsciously slid down his side and hooked its thumb in the hemline of his trousers, relieving some of the pressure.

You felt your bondage loosen as the final piece of clothing left your body. It was like the first breath of spring, the golden sun bathing your skin with its comforting rays for the first time in months. You sighed, smiling and lying back on the bed with your freedom.

"Much better," you hummed, shutting your eyes and stretching your exerted muscles with a loud groan. The mattress dipped next to you, not the total weight of someone's body, as if they were kneeling, looking down upon your naked form.

A shuttering breath next to you opened your eyes, seeing Aegon leaning over you. He didn't seem like himself, his eyes black, the dim light from the troches reflecting in them. It was as if something had possessed him as he stared at your breasts, wetting his lips and bending closer to you. His hand reached out at speed almost too slow for one to notice, and his blunt fingertips trailed down the expanse of your chest, down to your sternum, and circled the underside of your bubby. Gooseflesh rose in his wake, your toes curled, and your nipples hardened as Aegon's finger slid over it. You moaned as a chill went through your body, finally cooling off.

His touch lit a fire within you, the same feeling from the pleasure house, but you weren't in a drunken haze this time. You were beginning to sober, all your senses finally returning. Your vision was apparent again as you saw Aegon shift himself over top of you, using his other hand as support on your shoulder. He bent down, his once violet eyes still black as he scanned your face, a taught expression on it. Jolts of pleasure went straight to your core as he pinched your budded nipple, capturing your lips with his in a mess of tongue and teeth.

The lack of inhibitions between the both of you back at the brothel served in favor of Aegon. You let him defile you without reservations, but the alcohol was nearly gone from your system, and you realized something was wrong with this. Your mind screamed it. But how could you stop? You didn't want to stop. You wanted to extend the sensations he was giving you; it was what your body wanted, what it needed.

He broke for air, trailing a line of open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin as he reached your chest. He continued groping at one breast, kneading the flesh with his hand as he latched on to the other, his lips sucking the perked bud. Aegon's grip on your body hurt, the skin tender from growth, but the pain surfaced something... primal. A deep moan came from your throat as your hands went into his hair, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, moving on their own accord against him.

"Oh, Aegon," you whimpered, pulling on his hair until he released your tit with a pop. His chest heaved, grinding himself into your heat as his mouth returned to yours. His fingers tangled in your damp hair, cranking your head back to expose your neck, sucking harshly as you whimpered again.

"Your sounds are divine," he growled into your skin, "I must hear more."

Aegon bit onto a pulse point, causing you to cry out and your hands to yank the hair attached to his scalp. A muffled chuckle was all you heard from him as he let go and kissed down your body once more, not stopping past your chest or navel, creating small puddles of saliva.

Anticipation tightened in your stomach when he reached the top of your mound. The desire to move your hips, his lips on the buzzing spot, was all you could think about. Any hesitant thoughts from before were gone, your mind only chanting one thing.

"Please, Aegon."

He grinned, more than happy to oblige your pleas.

Aegon opened his mouth and used his flattened tongue to lick a stripe up your slit. He wrapped his lips around that sensitive button, sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body and making your thighs trap his head there. Your hips bucked, chasing his movements and moaning every time he hit that particular little bud. Your body became hot, your cheeks undoubtedly generating enough heat to warm even the coldest souls in the winter months.

You could feel sweat collect on your hairline and drip behind your ears as your hips moved in time with his ministrations, your insides wanting to clench around something. Aegon kissed your maidenhood as he did with your lips, creating the same building sensation as last night.

You felt his tongue dip inside you, using his thumb to continue the same focus he had with his mouth on your bud. His tongue felt terrific, hitting a specific spot inside you that made your nerves go wild, but you wanted more. You might not be able to reach the same peak as before if you did not. You needed something to hold on to, something deep within your body to keep you in place as you rode out your high.

"Aegon, I-I need..." You couldn't form a coherent sentence, every attempt foiled by a new wave of pleasure. "I need-Oh Gods-I need you..."

Despite hedonism, Aegon felt a deep emotion he had never experienced, feeling wanted. Since the day he was born, the first true-born Prince spent every moment of his life with those pushing him away in place of someone more fitting.

Rhaenyra has already taken his place as heir to the Iron Throne and received all his father's praise and attention. Aemond, his ever-dutiful brother taking the spot as their Mothers favorite, and Helaena, the spot of their Grandfather's darling grandchild. He was left with no place in his family besides as a pawn to be put on the throne, but with you, oh, with you, he felt like he belonged.

A girl he had hardly known for a day made him feel like he was needed solely for himself and not the potential of what he could be.

Something twisted inside him then, a feeling of dark, unhealthy obsession blooming in his mind.

Mine, was all he could think, only mine. Only my darling girl. No one-- nothing can take her from me. She is mine, only mine, mine, mine.

"What do you need, my little dragon?" Aegon asked sweetly, vastly differing from his possessive thoughts.

Mine, mine, mine.

"I-I need something inside of me. I do not think I can reach my peak without it. Without you." He could see the tears leaking from your eyes, your face flushed with frustrated pleasure. Seeing you in such a weakened state only fueled his darkened mind, unable to deny you of your request.

Of course, Aegon wanted to take your maidenhead, he would not let the idea of anyone else cross his mind, but this couldn't be the time. You were not his wholly. You were just a young girl, intoxicated by the newfound pleasures a man could give. He couldn't fault you for that; he remembers feeling the same at your age. He still had a small amount of decency within him and knew that you would live to regret having him take your virtue in the future. He wanted you in your entirety—mind, body, and soul.

He parted from your mound, his thumb still rubbing your button as he traced a finger around your hole. "I shall not deny you, sweetling," he plainly said as a singular digit entered you.

It provided much repreave, yet still not deep enough. Your disappointment soon overshadowed as he stuck his mouth to your button and curled his finger inside you.

Your high mounted, quick, wild horses ran through your hollow bones as he pulled your release from you. He did not stop until your legs went limp around his head, and your body went slack, small whimpers coming from your lips. Your hands went to his hair, pushing his face deeper into your wet core as you let pure ecstasy run through you, singing Aegon's praises.

Finally, he pulled away, his chin glistening from the juices inside your heat as he brought the finger he used inside his waiting mouth. You still saw stars as he flopped down next to you, catching his breath as if he had just finished sprinting. Aegon wore a smile you mirrored as you scooted closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder.

He had given you many opportunities to explore new things, and you did not know how to thank him. Words could not convert your gratefulness properly. You moved your hand across his chest, creating a pattern similar to the one he made on your breasts as he closed his eyes and sighed contentiously, pulling you closer.

Your fingers trailed down the expanse of his soft stomach, following the line of blonde hair down to his trousers. He didn't open his eyes as you traced the outline of his rigid member, only quirking a brow.

"What are you doing, little one," he questioned with a look. You could feel his cock twitch underneath your fingers.

"You have shown me so many things I had no idea of, exposed me to the pleasures of man, and I am eternally grateful for that. Should I not do the same?" You rubbed your palm against him, and you saw his stomach tense. "You will help me, won't you? I am still not entirely experienced yet," you said sheepishly.

"Of course I will," he agreed and kissed the knuckles of your other hand.

A knock interrupted your moment. Aegon groaned in annoyance, rolling his eyes. "Go away," he commanded as he grabbed your hand to move again.

"Your Grace, I have brought the water you requested," a weak female voice sounded through the thick wooden doors.

Your mouth suddenly felt parched, remembering how thirsty you had been earlier. Aegon looked down at you, questioning if you still wanted it, then sighed, telling the servant to bring it in. 

You had completely forgotten you were still naked, your palm over Aegon's cock as she entered, releasing a short gasp at the sight. He rolled his eyes again, signaling her to put the pitcher and cups on a table across the room as he kept your hand in place.

Aegon had not let you stop your movements on his prick, maintaining eye contact the entire time the servant scurried around his rooms. You knew you should have felt disgusted with the shame of displaying something so sexual and vulgar in front of a poor serving girl, but you didn't. The impropriety of it was what you loved, sending a pleasant warmth throughout your body.

The girl stood silently, hands clasped in front of her red uniform dress and gaze downcast.

"You may go," Aegon said pointedly, annoyed that she couldn't read that her task was finished.

"Yes," she nodded, curtsying out of respect for his position, "thank you, your grace." And she left his chambers in a flurry of skirts and crimson.

You could see that Aegon wanted to continue as if you hadn't been sorely interrupted, but your thirst was unimaginable, and you pouted your lip. He sighed, moving slightly to let you get a drink. It felt as if the ground was vibrating as you walked over, needing to move from chair to table to chair again to stay upright. You had seen men walk out of rooms like this at Madam's brothel, snickering to yourself in the shadows away from their eyes. It was ironic you did the same.

You could feel Aegon's stare on your back as you poured yourself a glass, not thinking to offer him some. Not moments later, another knock on his door sounded, a more mature female voice coming through it.

"My Prince," she began, pausing for a moment longer than reasonable, "I believe I may have found a dress befitting your guest." You looked at Aegon, perplexed as to why you needed another set of clothes. A flurry of questions arose in your mind, reality finally catching you as you took in your surroundings.

You were in His Majesty, Prince Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Son of Viserys, the Peaceful, bed chambers. How had you gotten to this moment? The last memory you had was of Ma yelling at you, kicking you out of the only home you had ever known, and then Aegon. It was all Aegon. His smiling face dragged you across Kings Landing, stuffing your face with foods Ma could never afford. His laugh echoed in your mind as he threw back drink after drink. His sweet words whispered in your ear as he made you feel the greatest pleasures of man.

"Your Grace, I am feeling quite ill. I wish to be taken home." You had acted too immaturely and rashly after what happened with Ma. She was the only true mother you had known, and you were her only daughter. She loved you-- loves you.

"What are you going on about, my sweet? You are home," Aegon dismissed, shifting himself in the blankets.

"No, Aegon." You placed the water on the table and gave him your full attention. "This is the Red Keep. Your home," you replied pointedly.

"This is your home now; I thought you realized this." He was starting to get annoyed with explaining the obvious to someone he thought was clever.

"Why on the Seven's green Earth would this ever be my home," you asked sarcastically, curling your lip incredulity and crossing your arms. "If you are attempting to make you your whore, you are sorely mistaken."

He groaned, rolling the blankets and shifting the pillows as he failed to get comfortable. "You are not my whore. I did not expect you to be."

You stormed over to the resting Prince, forgetting that you were still naked as the day you were born.

"How dare you think you can keep me here! I may not have the power to order people around as you do, but I have authority over my own life!" He scoffed and rolled over, refusing to meet your angry gaze.

"Not anymore," he mumbled more to himself than you.

"I do not care what you believe. I am leaving this place." You stormed around the room, a blaze of fury in your steps as you pulled your smock on and tied your outer dress just enough to cover your modesty.

He didn't try to stop you, only watching as you took one last swig of water before shoving his chamber room doors open. You had been a fool. The stupid young, naive girl you had tried so hard not to be. It was ignorant to think that Aegon wouldn't be like the men you heard the working girls complain about when he was most likely the one they spoke of the most. He was a disgusting, vile creature, and you never wanted to see him again.

The guard stationed outside his room looked at you with an unreadable expression, his armor a polished white as he stood tall. He seemed familiar, but his garb was different from the City Watch. You supposed he must have been far on the hierarchy of knights never to have seen him.

"I apologize, my lady, but I cannot allow you to leave," he said gravely, stepping in front of you.

You spun to face Aegon, the man still not having moved from his spot on the bed.

"Tell him to let me leave," you nearly shouted, but he ignored you. "Aegon, tell your guard to let me leave. Now!" This time, you did yell, done with all the games the eldest Prince played. They were no longer fun.

"Lead the woman to the Guest Wing," he flicked his wrist as if he was swatting a fly. "See to it she is fed and made to rest until called upon. We have had a long night."

You felt as if smoke was pouring from your ears, marching over to Aegon as his guard caught you by the shoulder, nearly causing you to fall back.

"Yes, my Prince." He nodded stiffly, pulling you to where you assumed the Guest Wing was.

"Oh, and Ser Eyrrk?" The knight stopped his movements abruptly, turning to face the boy he was sworn to protect. "Be sure to show me the dress the servant choose." Aegon paused, looking over your lust-stained clothes. "She is an honored guest of House Targaryen; she deserves to be robed as such."

Ser Erryk nodded once more and continued to lead you down the dark and barren halls of the Red Keep.

Master List of Series

The song called The Fruits by Paris Paloma heavily inspired this chapter. Link here! I also have a playlist I listen to when I write. Link here! If you have any questions about the story regarding the ages of characters, descriptions, etc... don't hesitate to ask me! Thank you so much for your patience. I hope the chapter lived up to your expectations. *.*

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd

[ckret2]

whats one thing that bill loves that absolutely NO ONE wouldve guessed? like not in a TRILLION YEARS cause thats how out-of-pocket it is for him to like said thing???

also love your work <33 :) its one of the very few fanfictions where i can feel the true essence of bill cipher and that is very important to me

Thanks! I've tried to squeeze in as much Bill essence as I can.

"What's the most unexpected thing he likes" depends entirely on what you expect, and I feel like that's subjective. You could argue some of the things he likes in canon are pretty unexpected; while, on the other hand, even the unexpected stuff "makes sense" if you have the reason for it. So here's a list of random things that, while they make sense for Bill, might be surprising if you're trying to think of what would fit the image of an evil chaos party god:

First the canon. I feel like "silly straws" isn't exactly SURPRISING for Bill, but I doubt anyone would have expected him to like them enough to voluntarily bring it up if he hadn't. Like there's a long list of likable things he skipped over specifically to give silly straws a shout out.

Some people headcanon he can't actually play the piano and his little performance for Ford was all magic, but I like to headcanon he actually knows how to play and enjoys it. Which implies an unexpected amount of patience and dedicated practice out of a pretty flighty guy.

I mean I don't think anyone would have assumed that meditation fits his vibe.

Fandom's got a pretty good handle on associating him with brightly-colored busy patterns, but only with traditionally masculine or gender neutral aesthetics. Think bowling alley carpets patterns, lava lamps, Hot Wheels-style paint jobs, fire and lightning and lasers. But there's a tendency to overlook aesthetics that are associated with femininity. He WOULD be into Lisa Frank, decora, intricate neon nail art, magical girls that look like they're wearing hyper-saturated overly-complicated dance outfits covered in 24k gold and jewels as big as your thumb, extravagant hats, extravagant jewelry, girly drinks, girly desserts, glam fashion & decor, bubbles, bouquets, rainbows, and hot pink. To Bill, everything is gender neutral.

I think most people wouldn't expect Bill to be into surreal cerebral art films rather than, like, juvenile slapstick or action. But on the other hand, the line between "this is haunting" and "this is boring" is razor thin for him, so he doesn't always like the cerebral films.

He hasn't discovered this yet but he'd love the beach. Sunshine and swimming. The lake would do too.

I don't think anyone would anticipate that Gravity Falls is, actually, in fact, one of his favorite places in the dimension. He mainly keeps complaining about the town because every time he's there, he's TRAPPED AND CAN'T GET OUT.

He's really into math, just recreationally. He would read a whole book about proving Fermat's Last Theorem. He probably proved the theorem himself by 1700. Told no one. He was just bored that week.

Ford got him into DD&MD. Bill wasn't just humoring his human pawn, he genuinely enjoys it. Gets really into the roleplaying and storytelling. He hasn't had anyone to play with in thirty years. Prefers the 90s edition.

Everyone assumes Bill's just humoring Mabel by letting her put on Color Critters tapes. It's like Care Bears crossed with Rainbow Brite and the morals are twice as heavy-handed. But he actually does enjoy the show, it's just for the wrong reasons.

You'd expect the guy who destroyed his home dimension to hate it. There are books, songs, instruments, cars, plays, hotels, cities, convention centers, dams, field trip destinations, even rocks that he misses dearly and will never see again. He still writes to himself and talks to other shapes in his native language. He still constructs houses without ceilings. He still hugs with one arm and shakes hands sideways. He loves his dead dimension. Few people outside of the other surviving shapes know this.

So you decide which is most unexpected!!

[five-rivers]

On the Manufacture of Gods

AKA the reason I was complaining about the Generator Rex timeline earlier this week. @ all my DP followers, give Generator Rex a try if you haven't, yet. It definitely scratches that unethical human experimentation itch! :p

AO3

.

“You’re not still thinking about it, are you?”

“Huh?” Violeta looked up from her notebook, her pen spinning out of her hand and clattering onto the floor.  “What?”

Rafael chuckled.  “You are still thinking about it.  That joke of a job offer.”  He leaned across the dining room floor to peer at her notes.  “Giving a bunch of rich idiots the power of God.” 

“Mm,” said Violeta.  “Maybe not that end goal, but the money… and the things we’d have to research on the way.  I was thinking…  You might know what they want isn’t possible, and they might know what they want isn’t possible.  But in the meantime…”  She trailed off, suggestively, and held up her notebook in front of her face. 

“Are you suggesting we run a scam?” asked Rafael, taking the notebook.  “Ah, a list of potential medical advances.”

“Computer science as well.”

“Human longevity, oncology, genetic diseases…”

“Not to mention physics, microbiology, bioengineering, nanotechnology…”

“It’s quite a list.  A bit beyond our purview, though.”

“And we have quite a list of friends.  Friends who might like steady work.  Gabriel and Peter, at least.”  Violeta smiled.  “It’s a victimless crime, you know.  If they have enough money to throw at something like this.  And they would be getting their money’s worth.”

“Mhm,” said Rafael.  “They do say that the first benefit of functional nanotechnology is immortality.  But control over the fundamental forces of nature, not so much.  God, it was so hard not to laugh in their faces when they said they wanted to control gravity and magnetism.  We’re so, so far from that.”

“Yes, but imagine how much money they’d throw at you while you were researching the problem.”

Rafael smiled, imagining it.  “It is a pleasant thought.”

The front door slammed open.  “Mama!  Papa!”

“We’re in here Ceasar!” called Violeta. 

A seven-year-old with dirty, skinned knees skidded into the kitchen. 

“Goodness,” said Violeta, getting up.  “Did you fall down?  Are you hurt?”

“No!” said Ceasar.  “Mama, what’s bigger, cells or atoms?”

“Cells are bigger,” said Violeta.  “They’re made out of atoms.”

“Ha!” said Ceasar, bouncing.  “I told him, I told him!”  He ran back to the door. 

“Told who, dear?”

“Van!”  The door slammed shut before Violeta or Rafael could say anything. 

“Van,” said Rafael.  “Van…  Isn’t he almost twice as old as Ceasar?”

“It’s fine,” said Violeta.  “We knew he’d be the youngest in the advanced classes when we signed him up.  And I think Van Kleiss is only ten or so.  Maybe eleven.”

“Well.  I suppose as long as they’re getting along…”  He drummed his fingers on the notebook, then put it down in front of Violeta’s seat at the table.  “Maybe we can try our hands at being con artists if our current jobs fall through.”

.

“Scamming a bunch of rich people out of a whole lot of money?” asked Gabriel Rylander, barely audible over the din of the bar.  He finished off his shot.  “Count me in.”  He shook Violeta's hand firmly.  “But is it really a scam, if we’re still giving them something?”

“Eh,” said Violeta, rocking her hand back and forth.  “We’re just failing to mention that their end goal isn’t feasible and isn’t something we’re actually trying to work towards.  We just need you and Peter to be on the same page as far as telling them we're working on it goes.”

“Sounds a bit risky,” said Peter Meechum.  “But I guess no one would ever be able to prove anything, so… why not?”  He took a sip from his drink, grimaced, and put it back down.  “What do these guys call themselves again?”

“The Consortium.”

.

Rafael frowned at the documents.  Summaries of his research, Violeta’s, Gabriel’s, Peter’s, the other scientists’ that had joined the Nanite Project, most of them agreeing that there was no way to fulfil the Consortium’s requests, but that the good that could be done in the meantime was too great to pass up, even a packet of code from one of Ceasar’s projects.  They’d been working on this project for seven years, now, but this was the first time he actually thought there was a chance of success.

He wasn’t sure he liked it. 

Oh, sure, he was thrilled with the results of his latest experiments, and the leisure to learn more, to further his own education – to the point where he sometimes felt like he was turning into a cartoonish omnidisciplinary scientist – but the idea of giving those rich, powerful men even more was… troubling, to say the least. 

“Rafael?  Love, are you still down here?”

“Yes,” called Rafael.  “What is it?”

“Dinner,” said Violeta, a bit dryly.  “Ceasar wants pizza, incidentally.  What are you doing?”

“Thinking about the last results we got back from CERN,” said Rafael.  “Obviously there are still problems on virtually every level, but…  With the newly discovered particles, what we’re doing isn’t a pipe dream anymore.”

“Mm,” said Violeta.  “Does that bother you?”

“You know how I feel about the people we work for.”

Violeta drummed her fingers on her elbow.  “You know, they don’t have to ever get what we do.”

“Pardon?”

“Think about it.  When we make these things, if we make these things, who’s going to have control?  Us or them?”

“Violeta…”

“And we always have the option to just… destroy everything.  Or democratize it!  Spread it and all its good over the whole world!”  She waved her hand over her head as if defining a rainbow.  “We’re making a post-scarcity society a possibility.  Why should anyone have to pay for it, once it’s done?”

“I suppose,” said Rafael. 

“In the meantime… pizza.”

Rafael smile.  “Pizza,” he agreed.  “Goodness, is he ever going to get tired of it?”

“Maybe once he isn’t a teenager anymore.”

.

It was silent around the table. 

“Do we really have a workable plan of action?” asked Rafael, a little stunned. 

“I wouldn’t say workable, not yet,” said Gabriel, waving his hands. 

“But it’s close,” said Peter.  “A lot of the problems are on the biological side of things,” he continued, glancing at Violeta, “but between my team and Rylander’s we’ve definitely solved the processing power issue and many of the miniaturization problems.”

“That’s thanks to you, by the way,” said Gabriel, tipping an imaginary hat towards Rafael.  “The selenium process especially was revolutionary.”

“I think I can solve the biological problems,” said Violeta, cutting off Gabriel’s last words.  “I can – It’s not…”  She trailed off, biting her thumbnail. 

“Violeta?”

“Part of the problem,” she said, “is control.  The interface between the organism and the machines.  It’s learning how to use them.  Like a new sense, or a new limb.  We’re going to need live trials.  Test subjects.  And—” She broke off again, more sharply.  “The Consortium is never going to have the ability to actively use these smoothly.  No adult human is.  Or, at least, that kind of adaptability, of brain plasticity, is going to be rare.”

“You’re not suggesting we start experimenting on children?” asked Peter, appalled.  He and his wife had been trying to have children for a while, now, but they were having trouble.  Gabriel – also a new father – didn’t look happy, either. 

“Not… exactly.  We’d do plant and animal trials first, of course, you know, model organisms, and move on from there.  I’m thinking more…  Fetal tissue.  In vitro.”  She held up a hand, pinching air between her fingers as if to show how small the research matter would be.  “In carefully controlled lab situations only.”  She laughed a little.  “Caesar actually has an idea about how to manage that, believe it or not.”

Peter made a face.  “As wonderful as Caesar is, he’s still a teenager, Vi.”

“I wasn’t saying he’d be the one doing all the programming.  Just that his overall idea is decent.”

Gabriel cleared his throat.  “I think there might be some ways around those control issues,” he said.  “Why do we need to learn how to work with the nanites when it should really be the other way around?  Make them do the hard part.  Maybe that’ll cut down on the human trials… Or we could con one of our lovely funders to volunteer.  We’re already conning them out of millions of dollars, after all.”  He picked up his drink and downed it in one go. 

“We could also stop,” said Rafael, hardly believing what he was suggesting. 

“You can’t be serious,” said Peter.  “After we’ve come this far?”

“I believe in keeping options on the table,” said Rafael, defensively. 

“Do you want to stop?” asked Violeta, and he knew that she would, for him. 

But… “No,” said Rafael.  Of course he didn’t want to stop.  Who could at this point?  “But we should try to come up with failsafes.  Some of these plans…  Not just anyone should have access to the ability to turn off gravity.”

“That’s fair,” said Violeta.  “But considering how we’re programming these…  Or, at least, how I understand we’re programming things, I could be mistaken… Would it be possible to program the nanites to only respond to certain people?  Have the higher-level functions only work for certain biometrics, or DNA scans, that kind of thing.”

Gabriel scratched his chin.  “Possibly, possibly.  But we run into the adaptability problem again.  We’re not young by any means.  How do you feel about bombs?”

“Gabriel, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious!  Hence the bombs.  Blowing things up are a traditional way of getting rid of things.”

“If we build these right, we won’t be able to get rid of them by blowing them up.”

Rafael cleared.  “I think your suggestion holds merit, in an extreme case.  As long as we’ve gotten past the point where the nanites will kill everyone, spreading them out, scattering them, might be better than leaving them in the hands of the Consortium.  We’d have to do a risk assessment.  It might be better, too, to limit the number of ‘control’ nanites.  Maybe even find a way to hide them.  Hide that they exist, even.”

“What if,” said Violeta, slowly, “we make something compatible with the nanites?  Work backwards to work forward.  Or, at least, work from both ends.”

“You mean GMOs?” asked Peter. 

“Something like that,” agreed Violeta. 

“I’m not sure how this is a failsafe,” said Gabriel, “but that sounds like we’ve gone in a circle again.  Back to us being compatible with them.”

“If,” said Violeta, “we can make it so there’s a person we can trust, and they’re the only one who can properly use the nanites… And we implement some of your other ideas, like limiting number of ‘control’ nanites, and keep those to ourselves…  We wouldn’t have direct control, but we could decide whether or not they get used.”

“And where are we going to get a person like that?” asked Peter, testily.  “Wasn’t the whole point of this that people can’t just pick up how to use nanites, normally?”

“Easy,” said Violeta, grinning at Rafael.  “We make them.”

.

“Caesar,” said Violeta, “how do you feel about a younger brother?”

“Fine, I guess?” said Caesar, putting down his spoon and looking between his two parents.  “Why?  Does this have something to do with your project?”

“Yes.  We think it’s time you learned more about it.”

.

The best way to test something, to look for the changes in something, was to use a control group.  That was often difficult in diverse biological groups, like humans.  Studies rarely showed the full picture, sadly. 

Twins were a natural choice, for experiments like that.  Identical in age and, generally, in upbringing.  But you couldn’t just go out and get a twin. 

Unless, of course, you were a scientist with unlimited access to a massively unethical and extremely expensive lab. 

Caesar sat beside her, watching the test tube.  “It’s hard to believe he’s going to grow up to be me.”

“Not you, exactly,” said Violeta.  “Just… nearly.”  She had made adjustments, some of them of her own design, others suggested by her co-conspirators.  The goal was to optimize nanite compatibility.  “You’ll be different people,” she continued.  “Assuming he survives.  He’ll be more like a… twin.  A very delayed twin.”

Caesar made an affirmative noise.  “You know what I mean.”

“I’m sure it will be odd,” agreed Violeta, “but even though the odds are low, this could be an entirely possible natural genetic combination.”

“But it isn’t.”

“That’s true,” agreed Violeta. 

“When I get out of college,” he said, “do you think I can work on this, too?  Just, with programing.  Not biology so much.”

“I don’t see why not,” said Violeta.

“It’s just…”  He reached out, as if to tap the glass vial with his finger, then withdrew, crossing his arms.  “I don’t know.  I feel like I should help him already, I guess.”

Violeta fluffed his hair, then swooped in to give him a peck on the forehead.  “I’m sure you will,” she said, “and you’ll be the best big brother and scientist there ever was.”

As expected, Caesar’s face scrunched up. 

“What if he doesn’t make it, though?”

“Then we’ll try again.”

.

“Have you thought of a name?” asked Rafael. 

Across the room, Caesar’s head snapped up, homework instantly forgotten. 

“I have some ideas,” said Violeta, hiding her smile from Caesar but not Rafael. 

“You should call him Caeser the Second,” said Caesar, which was both a very immature response for someone working through a degree in computer science, and very typical.

“I think that might be a bit confusing, mijo,” said Violeta.  “I was thinking ‘Rex.’  My two little kings.”

“Not as good as Caesar the Second.  But it’ll have to do.”

“I’m glad I have your support.  What do you think, Rafael?”

“It’s a good name,” he said, not looking up from his paperwork.  “It starts with the letter R.”

Violeta threw a pillow at him. 

.

“’Abyss,’ huh,” said Rafael, examining the intake paperwork as he reclined ever backwards in the office chair.  “I’m not sure Nietzsche is the person we want to emulate.”

“It’s ‘Abysus,’” corrected Van Kleiss imperiously. 

That was another thing Rafael wasn’t sure about.  Working with one of Caesar’s old playmates.  And moving operations and experiments to a private island in the middle of nowhere.  He had to wonder if the Consortium knew about their group’s plans, and if this isolation was meant to keep them under control. 

It wouldn’t work, of course.  Building a radio wasn’t exactly difficult, even without access to nanites, and even Rafael had a few less than noble tricks up his sleeves. 

“Do you know who else we’ll be working with?” he asked. 

“The Consortium has delegated a new project overseer.” 

That was nice enough, he supposed (not really), but also not an answer to what he had asked. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of scientists.”

“There’s me,” said Van Kleiss. 

Rafael made a noncommittal noise.  “Is that it?  As wonderful as Violeta is, this is the kind of thing you really need a team for.”

Van Kleiss’s expression went sour, as if he had expected to be told that he, personally, was the only scientist needed for the undertaking.  But the moment passed quickly, and soon Van Kleiss was rattling off names as fast as he could.  Rafael recognized many of them, if not all, and relaxed.  For the most part, even though they weren’t part of the conspiracy, they wouldn’t turn them in if they heard or saw anything.

There was safety in numbers – or, at least, the illusion of it.  Again, with that many people who could, technically, be included under the header of ‘mad scientist,’ he wasn’t worried about communication or weaponry.  Much. 

“Caesar is coming too, you know,” Rafael couldn’t help but boast.

“I assumed so.  He is your child.”

“No, no,” said Rafael, “Rex is coming as family, but Caesar is coming to work as a scientist.  He just graduated from college, and they hired him for the programming division right off.”  He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.  “It will be like old times for the two of you, won’t it?  You always used to play together.”

“Oh,” said Van Kleiss.  “I suppose it will be interesting, at least.”

.

“Call me Black Knight,” said the woman, not extending her hand.  “I’m here on behalf of the Consortium to monitor and accelerate your progress.  Specifically, to help with a certain bottleneck.”

“And… what does that mean, exactly?” asked Violeta, leaning around Rafael who was being oddly protective.

“Human test subjects are so hard to find, aren’t they?” asked Black Knight, rhetorically.  “I’m here to volunteer.  And recruit other volunteers, on an as-necessary basis.” 

.

“I don’t like her,” said Rafael.  “She’s a killer, I can tell.  I’ve seen enough of her type in my day.  I wouldn’t be surprised if all the ‘security forces’ here were the same.”

“What do you think we should do about it?” asked Caesar, frowning. 

“I think,” said Rafael, steepling his fingers, “we should do some recruitment of our own. 

.

The problem with bringing children to high-security, top-secret private islands is that there often weren’t many other kids around. 

Oh, Rex had Caesar, of course, and Gabriel had brought his son, but both of them were a good deal older than he was, and Caesar especially had other things to do.  His programming work was quickly becoming vital to the project as a whole. 

(Something that made a variety of the other scientists very jealous.  Violeta didn’t understand it.  Most of them weren’t even working in the same discipline as Caesar, making the rivalry especially pointless, as in the case of Van Kleiss.)

(Then again, Van Kleiss seemed to have a rivalry with everyone, so perhaps that was to be expected.)

The point was that Rex spent a lot of time alone. 

Not in a bad way.  Abysus was interesting, and the scientists there loved talking about what they were doing.  He was learning a lot, just listening in.  His parents spent a lot of time with him, too, even more than they did when they lived in Geneva, because now he was being homeschooled.  And he was used to it.  They’d been on Abysus for a while. 

(They didn’t stay on Abysus year-round.  They flew around the world in their ‘off season,’ going everywhere from the Americas to Europe, to Asia, and even Africa, once or twice, mostly for vacations, but also to talk to other scientists, visit other labs, and make sure Rex had all his proper doctor’s checkups.  Rex made a lot of friends on those trips, but it was hard to stay in touch.)

But it could get… boring, sometimes, not having anyone his age around.  Lonely.  So… sometimes he did things that might not, strictly speaking, be smart.  Like exploring the labs or sneaking into restricted zones when he was supposed to be finishing his trigonometry homework.  He couldn’t help it!  Trigonometry was so boring… and some of the less-used halls were great for practicing soccer. 

Except… maybe this hallway wasn’t as disused as Rex had thought.  Not if Van Kleiss was here, glaring down at him, his soccer ball firmly under his shoe.

“H-hi,” said Rex.  Van Kleiss always made him so nervous.  There was just something about him.  “Can I, um.  Can I have that back?”

Van Kleiss continued to frown down at him for a long minute.  Then he smirked and kicked the ball back. 

“Thanks!” said Rex, picking up the ball and running down the hallway to get away.  He really didn’t like Van Kleiss.  He picked a door at random – a big bulky thing – and went through without another thought.

.

Van Kleiss walked down the hallway to the testing room, thinking.  He had a big decision ahead of him. 

All he had to do was not say anything. 

It would be easy.  The easiest thing in the world.  An absence of action. 

Say nothing. 

Oh, it would be a terrible thing to do… or not do, as the case may have been, but… 

Say nothing say nothing say nothing.

He could see it, the chain of events unfolding moment by moment, faster and faster. 

Rex was not supposed to be here.  Especially not in that room.  But the problem with quickly built places, even places built by billionaires with more money than sense, or perhaps especially places built by billionaires with more money than sense, was that there were always problems.  Some things stopped working.  Some things never worked.  Some things decayed violently over time. 

But none of the people here were the type to let something like that stop them. 

What might stop them, however, specifically the Salazars, was said construction deficits seriously harming their youngest family member. 

Van Kleiss hated the Salazars, particularly Caesar, since they were in school together.  When he’d applied to work for the Consortium, he hadn’t realized they were part of it, too.  If he had… Well, he probably still would have come.  They paid a lot.  But he wanted them gone. 

Maybe their fields weren’t completely comparable, but that was just more reason.  He, Van Kleiss, should be in charge of the project.  He had the background for it.  He was the one who understood the power nanites could have.  He was a specialist.  Not them. 

Rex would be found before too long, anyway.  There were all sorts of alarms that should go off. 

Just like Rex shouldn’t be here but was.  Just like that door should have been sealed tight already. 

Van Kleiss stopped.  All he had to do was nothing. 

He turned and went back down the hallway, his pace picking up until he was running.

He couldn’t do it.  There were a lot of lines he’d crossed for the Consortium and for his work.  Killing a child – no, letting a child die, he hadn’t put Rex in that room – wasn’t one of them.  Maybe someday, he’d go over that line, but not today. 

He hit the emergency button by the door, and waited anxiously, guiltily as the alarms began to blare and the airtight seal slowly, audibly, released.  As soon as the cycle completed, he hauled the door open, choking a little at the remaining fumes, and peered in.  The small body lay some distance from the door, the soccer ball nearby.

Stupid child.  Why they even let children on Abysus, he didn’t know. 

But… 

As the dangerous fumes thinned, swept away by the ventilation system, Van Kleiss pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and dashed in.  Rex was light enough that he could pick him up around the waist and pull him out, into the proper hallway, where even now the emergency medics were converging. 

He handed Rex off with relief, and let them start a check up on him, too. 

He hadn’t crossed the line.  Not that one, anyway.  Not today. 

.

Violeta was a biologist, primarily, yes, but she was also a doctor of medicine, one of several on the island.  This meant that she knew exactly what was going on, and what Rex’s chances were. 

“Caesar,” she said, grabbing her other son’s arm.  “Go to the primary lab, load up an injector from Tank One.”

“Mom,” said Caesar, understanding instantly and being just as instantly appalled.  “It’s too soon, we haven’t—”

“It’s his only chance,” whispered Violeta, barely audible over the noise.  “You have to.”

.

Caesar ran into the room, program already half-built in his head, and shut down the safeguards on Zag RS that would usually prevent unauthorized nanite withdrawals.  After all, he was the one who had programmed it.  Undoing it was easy. 

Screens and buttons lit up under his fingers as he typed faster than he ever had before, not even blinking as he stared at them.  That would take extra time, after all. 

Caesar turned away from Tank One, injector in hand, only to come face-to-face with Black Knight. 

“Uh,” said Caesar, “hi.”

Black Knight smirked.  “Oh, do go on.  As I said, human test subjects are so hard to find.”

Caesar felt like nothing so much as a mouse as he scurried around her. 

.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked one of the other doctors as Violeta gripped the injector. 

Violeta looked at the heart monitor, showing her baby’s unsteady, stuttering heartbeat.  There were so many, many risks here.  But Rex had been designed to be compatible with the nanites.  More than that, these particular nanites had been designed with him in mind. 

“Absolutely.”

She pressed the injector to the side of Rex’s neck and pulled the trigger. 

.

Rex’s heartbeat stabilized. 

.

“Van,” said Caesar, clapping him on the shoulder, “let me buy you dinner.”

“It’s fine,” said Van Kleiss, who wanted nothing to do with Caesar.  What he wanted was to know when the family was going to leave, but he doubted they would soon, with precious little Rex in a coma.  “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You saved my little brother!  Of course I owe you something.”

“I don’t—” started Van Kleiss, snappishly. 

“Seriously,” said Caesar.  “It is not about owing you.  Let me buy you dinner.”  The words were heavily laden with meaning that Van Kleiss couldn’t grasp at.  “Off island.”

Van Kleiss stared at him suspiciously.  “Fine.”

.

Van Kleiss walked into the restaurant, which was, as it turned out, populated with dozens of familiar faces.  Most of the senior scientists from the Nanite Project were here, in this tiny, out of the way, low-tech restaurant.  Violeta and Rafael were, of course, nowhere to be seen.

“What is this?” asked Van Kleiss. 

“Call us ethical objectors,” said Rylander.  “Come on, kid.  We’ll tell you all about what we’re about and get you up to speed.”

“Why—”

“Isn’t it obvious?  Anyone who’d risk inhaling that gas for a kid they barely know is alright in my books.”  Rylander nodded and gestured to the chair next to him.  “Come on, make yourself comfortable.”

.

Van Kleiss went through the next few days in a haze.  Everything… everything he’d dreamed about, all that power, it was real. 

Or, at least, it could be, if the Salazars and their cronies weren’t actively standing in the way. 

Oh, sure, he could see that handing the nanites over to the insipid, ignorant investors would be horrible.  No one intelligent would ever hand over that kind of power.  No one sane would destroy it. 

Van Kleiss… he couldn’t let them destroy it.  No matter what.  The nanites were the key to everything.  They could be kings.  No, gods.  Did the others even know what they were doing here?  Did they know that every hour of every day, they got closer to divinity?

He couldn’t let the Consortium have it… but he couldn’t let it be destroyed.  He was just one person, but maybe, maybe…  He was here at the interface.  A sailboat could move faster than the wind, because it was on an interface.  He knew interfaces.  He could slide between.  Change the interaction.  Change… everything. 

He needed this. 

For that matter, he deserved this.  None of them would be here if it wasn’t for him.    

Somehow… somehow, he would get what he deserved, he just had to be patient.  Watch for when to act.  Not today… but soon. 

.

Rex woke up slowly.  Everything… Everything hurt.  Even breathing.  Had he ever been hurt like this before? 

He thought about it. 

He thought about it some more. 

He… he didn’t remember.  Why didn’t he remember? 

He felt his eyelids move as he tried to open them.  But they felt stuck closed, his muscles too weak.  He—

“Rex,” said a voice over the beeping sound he only now noticed, “Rex, it’s okay, we’re here, Mommy’s here, love.”

Someone… his name!  That was his name!  He stopped fighting.  Someone else knew what was going on. 

.

He woke up.  This time, he really woke up, his eyes opening on a plain-ish white room, with a white board and a curtain on one wall.  He was in a bed.  There was a man siting in a chair next to him, asleep. 

Rex tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.  He cleared his throat.  “Hello?” he said.

The man startled. 

“Oh, dios mío.  Rex!  You’re awake!”  He reached out to Rex and took his hands in his own.  “I’m so relieved, you have no idea, little brother.”

Rex pulled his hands away.  “I’m sorry.  Who are you?”

The man looked crushed.

.

“This is a test to see how much you remember,” said the woman.  She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.  She always sounded like that.  “With respect to skills, general knowledge, specific autobiographic memories, and episodic memories.  Some of these are things you didn’t know about before, so we can have a control group.”

Rex nodded.  She’d said he was his mother, and he really, really wished he could remember that, if only to make her feel better, but… it was like there was nothing there. 

The other people in the room were unfamiliar to him as well.  He wondered… was one of these people his father?  Other siblings?  Did he know them, or were they strangers?

They were looking at him.  Like, a lot.  He ducked his head, looking back at the papers and objects on the desk. 

“Wh-what do I start with?” he asked, quietly. 

“Whatever you would like.  It doesn’t have to be in any specific order.”

“Okay,” breathed Rex.  He first reached towards the papers, but… what if he couldn’t remember how to read?  He switched to one of the small electronic devices on the table and tried not to notice as his… his mother frowned. 

Had he already done something wrong?

He squeezed the device.  The miniquant.  An old in-between step between high-grade quantum computers and even smaller devices.  It had first been turned on in June, three years ago.  The primary users was Caesar Salazar, but half a dozen others, including Violeta Salazar, Rafael Salazar, and Peter Meechum had also used it.  There were several programs saved on it, mostly complex simulations.  He turned it over in his hands, curious.  It opened up under his fingers at his request, blue lines arcing over it. 

He was startled out of his contemplation of the miniquant by the sound of a chair clattering to the ground.  His mother had stood up, staring hard at the miniquant in his hands. 

“Did… did I do something wrong?”

.

“Well,” drawled Black Knight.  “I’d say that was a success, wouldn’t you?”

Gabriel looked at her sideways.  “Sure, the kid’s alive, but the memory loss?  Don’t you think that’s a sizeable downside?”

“One easily explained away by the hypoxia,” said Black Knight, waving her hand, and walking away from the observation booth.  “I’ll expect a proposal to start work on my nanites within the month.”

“What about the personality changes?” he shouted after her. 

“The trauma-based ones?  I’m sure you’ll work it out!”

.

“We need abort,” Gabriel whispered to Rafael.  “They’re starting to move too fast.  They’re going to want their nanites soon.”

“Please don’t blow anything up, yet,” said Rafael.  “Rex still needs time to recover.  And we’ll need the research, to make sure…”  To make sure they could help Rex if anything else happened.  If there were additional side effects.  If it turned out that Rex’s memory loss was recurrent.

“But after…?”

Rafael nodded.  “Get your family off the island,” he said.  “We’ll start to prepare our escape as well.  Tell the others.”

.

Caesar yawned and glanced at the clock near the door, only to be halfway scared to death by a pair of too-reflective eyes set in a small frame. 

“Rex,” he said, getting his breathing under control and lowering the makeshift taser he’d made a few days ago.  “What’re you doing here?  It’s late.”

Rex shrugged, clutching his blanket more closely around his shoulders. 

“Something spook you, mijo?”

“Maybe,” said Rex. 

It was a little… strange, to see Rex acting like this.  He’d been so energetic before, so confident, always active, outgoing, talkative… maybe a little annoying at times, but that was little brothers for you.  Now he was quiet, withdrawn, and shy. 

“Hey, come on,” said Caesar, pulling out an office chair.  It was Van Kleiss’s.  He probably wouldn’t care.  He liked Rex.  “Hop on up here.  Tell me about it.”

Rex climbed onto the chair and immediately began to play with the height settings, going up and down. 

“Nightmare?” asked Caesar, after a while, when it seemed like Rex wasn’t going to say anything. 

“No,” said Rex.  “I…  What if I never remember anything?”

“Ah,” said Caesar.  “That happens with amnesia, sometimes.  But we’re still family.  We’ll always be family, no matter what.”

“But what if—” Rex blinked hard, tears visible in the corners of his eyes.  “What if I forget again?”

Caesar reached over and pulled Rex’s chair closer, so he could put his arm around Rex’s shoulders.  “Then we’ll still be family.”

“But what if I don’t remember we’re family?”

“It’s okay, we’ll be here, we’ll remind you.”

“But what if—What if I get lost or something?  Can’t you…”  Rex trailed off, looking away. 

“Can’t we what?”  Rex hitched up one shoulder in a shrug.  “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Nanites are like little computers, right?”

“Yes?”

“And… and you can put stuff on computers… like, save things… and…”  He looked up at Caesar, eyes unnaturally bright.  “Can you put memories on my nanites?”

Caesar opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking about the proposal.  “Maybe,” he said, finally.  “Nanites are pretty small.  Outside of their operating parameters, I’m not sure how much more we can put on them, and the memory would be pretty different from natural memory, but…”

“Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Caesar, finally. 

.

“You did what?” demanded Violeta. 

“Oh, come on,” said Caesar, “like you haven’t done the same kinds of things.”

“Not without talking about it!”  Violeta sat down on the couch.  “Your brother, Caesar.”

“It’s just-- It’s such a little thing.”

“How little?” asked Rafael.  “What did you actually do?”

“I just…”  Caesar looked between his parents.  “It’s just a programmed suggestion to come find us, and to trust us, when he does find us.  It’s not like there’s room for much else, at this point.”

“Oh, Caesar, I didn’t think we had to teach you not to brainwash your little brother.”

“It’s not brainwashing.  And you cloned, well…”  He trailed off.  “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?  Mom?  Dad?”

They turned to each other.  “It’s a little different,” said Violeta, eventually.  “It’s a big risk, and an unnecessary one.”

“Rex didn’t seem to think it was unnecessary.”

“Rex is nine.”

“Point,” said Caesar.  “But this isn’t like Alpha.  It’s not an AI.  It’s just extra instructions for Rex.  I’m not even sure it’ll work.”

“Alright,” said Rafael.

“Alright?” exclaimed Violeta and Caesar. 

“If it’s something that Rex wanted,” said Rafael, “something he thinks will help him…  A safety blanket.  But anything like this in the future… you have to discuss it with us, Caesar.  You can’t just do things that are going to affect everyone by yourself.”

.

“Remarkable,” said Black Knight, forming her hand into a spear and back again.  “It’s so easy to control.  I was anticipating a bit more of a learning curve.”

“Holy moly,” muttered Rylander, “she’s a freak of nature.  Wonderful.”

Van Kleiss sniffed.  “She isn’t having as easy a time as she’d like us to think.”  He showed Rylander his screen.  “Look at her biometrics.   Notice anything?”

“Elevated heartrate…  Energy consumption… Oh, she’s not having an easy time of it, is she?”

No.  For all her posturing, she wasn’t.  Van Kleiss was quite certain that if he was the one with the nanites, he would be doing much better.  Absolutely certain.  So certain, in fact, that he was making plans to undergo the same procedure. 

Secretly, of course.  He knew the other scientists would stop him, to say nothing of the consequences if the Consortium found out.

.

“Maybe,” said Violeta, “it would help if you had something to visualize.  Maybe that one robot you made up for the show you like?  The – Rescue Robots?  Something like that.”

Rex drew his knees up to his chest and the small plastic chair he was sitting on creaked.  “I don’t remember that.”

“Oh,” said Violeta.  “Right.”  She scratched the back of her head, suddenly unable to look at Rex.  She forced herself to, anyway.  “How about this:  We can design something together, okay?  Maybe even a few different things.”

“Okay,” said Rex, unfolding himself.  “How?”

“Well, whenever you’re designing something, the first thing you have to ask yourself is, what are my criteria?”

.

Rafael swore and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“What?” asked Violeta, looking up from the papers on the kitchen table.  “What is it?”

“I thought we agreed the God Code and the meta-nanites were going to be theoretical.”

“I, well, yes,” said Violeta.  “But…  We’re already hiding things from the Consortium, aren’t we?”

“But not from each other.”

“But think, Rafael, what a gift we can give Rex.”

“It’s not something anyone should have.”

“But the others, the ones who aren’t in on all this with us—They would have done it, anyway.  This way, we can steer the ship.  This way, we can control who gets it.”

“Violeta,” said Rafael.  “We can’t do this.  We shouldn’t do this.  This is—This is insanity.”

“I—No,” said Violeta.  “Is it insanity to want to push the boarders of human achievement, of human ability?”

“No, but, Vi, making weapons that could destroy all life on the planet is.  Remember, we have Zag-RS for a reason.  And now we have given them plans for integrating this kind of thing into their systems.”  He picked up a piece of paper and waved it at her.  “This… Magnetic forces themselves.  Gravity!  Light!  The strong and weak nuclear forces!  These are not things we should be giving them!”

“I didn’t—I don’t—I hadn’t added anything yet, Rafael.  I haven’t even had a chance to talk to you about it yet.  I got these proposals from the other group today.  As it stands, the only system any of the meta-nanites are compatible with is Rex’s.”

Rafael put the paper down, slowly, and then shook his head.  “This cannot go on,” he said, voice thick.  “Please, Vi, let us get away from this with our sons.  We should have stopped long ago.”

Violeta looked away from him.  “But what if we can fix Rex?” she whispered.  “What if we can give him back his memories?”

“I think it’s more important that he has a world to make new memories in.”

Violeta inhaled sharply.  “You’re right!  You’re right.  But we can’t stop the others.”

“I—“

“Hey, guys!” said Caesar, slamming the door open.   Rex trailed in behind him. “Guess what?”  He took in the room, and, evidently sensing some of the tension there, his smile slipped from his face.  “Did something happen?  Am I… interrupting?”

“No,” said Violeta.  “What did you want to show us?”

.

The pod laboratory was Caesar’s baby.  His pride and joy.  His hobby.  Which actually sounded kind of sad, if he thought about it.  Or awesome.  His hobby was also his job.  Yeah. 

He was awesome. 

Anyway, he (and his father) had been working on the pod more or less the whole time they were on Abysus.  There was a lot you could do with almost-unlimited funding. 

“It’s just about ready to go,” said Caesar, walking his parents through.  “Rex helped out a lot, didn’t you, mijo?”

“Uh-uhm.  Yeah,” said Rex.  “I asked the machines to cooperate.”

“Yeah!  It was really helpful.  There are still some kinks, but, overall?  We’re doing great.  It’ll probably be ready whenever, you know…  If other things don’t work out.” 

His parents exchanged glances and nodded.  They were all on the same page, then.  More mundane means of escape were all very well and good, but if something truly nasty happened, it would be good to have a means of escape that no one knew was a means of escape.

.

“Mom?” said Rex, as he spun on a chair in her lab. 

“Yes?  What is it?”  She was a little distracted, trying to inject the latest version of the nanites into a dozen lab rats. 

“When the animals turn into monsters, how do you fix them?”

“We don’t, always,” said Violeta. 

“But sometimes you do.”

Violeta nodded.  “We connect to the base code of the nanites and use an extractor.  Tell them to leave the host.  Sometimes the nanites have malfunctions beyond the unexpected physical mutations, however…  That can make the connection and extraction difficult – it makes it hard to transmit new instructions – and we want to figure out why the malfunctions occur, so we tend to terminate them for study.”

“I can connect to the nanites,” said Rex. 

“Yes, you can.”

“Do you think I could extract them, too?”

“Oh, that’s an interesting question,” said Violeta.  “But… Maybe.”  She thought through the list of the most recent malfunctions, and grimaced.  It wasn’t that Rex wasn’t technically capable of doing as he asked, his nanites should have the base ITRC program, but most of the time organisms with malfunctioning nanites in them weren’t exactly friendly.  “Maybe if we have one of the more… tame malfunctions, you can see if you can run an extraction program.”

.

Rex’s tenth birthday was a quiet affair.  Before, they’d been planning on going to South America for the event, to visit his friend Frederico, but things being what they were… They decided not to put Rex into another upsetting situation. 

It was alright to celebrate the day with just family.  It was alright to stay on Abysus. 

(It had nothing to do with worries about Rex’s nanites ‘escaping’ or Black Knight’s strong suggestion to stay put.)

(At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.)

.

A beeping sound woke Caesar up.  Blearily, he groped for his… whatever was making the sound.  It was too early, and… that wasn’t his alarm, was it?

He came awake entirely when he finally opened his eyes enough to see the message scrolling across the screen of his phone.  Not wasting a moment, he swung out of bed and began calling his parents. 

“You got it too?” asked Rafael.

“Yes, just a moment ago.”

Rafael swore and Caesar nearly dropped his phone.  He was still always surprised to hear his parents cursed, okay?

“What do you want me to do?”

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line.  “Did you ever get that remote shutdown installed?”

“Sort of,” said Caesar.  “Not for the nanites themselves, but for some of the other things, I can ask Zag-RS to—But those measures can all be manually overridden.”  There was no group of people less trusting of AI than the people who knew how it worked.  Except, perhaps, for a group of people who had already been terrorized by one rogue AI. 

Caesar was sorry.  Was he never going to live that down?  He wished people would just forget about it.

“Try to run that, anyway,” said Rafael.  “We’ll be coming by your house, first, with Rex.  Be ready to leave if things go poorly.”

“But—”

“Neither of us could stand losing either one of you.  Please, Caesar.”

“Fine,” said Caesar.  “I’m booting up the pod, too.”  For all the good it would do.  It was sturdy, but they hadn’t worked out all the kinks in the propulsion system.  At best, it would buy them time. 

“Good, good.  We will be there, soon.”

They did arrive only seconds later with a half-asleep Rex in tow.  They were both on their phones, talking to other scientists.  “Hey, buddy,” said Caesar.  “Ready for our sleepover?”

Rex frowned at him vaguely, mouthing the word ‘sleepover,’ but quickly gave up in favor of leaning into Caesar’s side with his eyes closed. 

“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” said Caesar.  “Come on, we’re going to go somewhere fun.”

.

Honestly, Rafael had expected Black Knight. 

Van Kleiss was a bit of a letdown. 

“No!  You can’t!  You can’t stop me!  I need this!”

All the lights in the room were off.  Rafael had tripped the breakers for this part of the lab before coming in.  The meta-nanites were still safely ensconced in their protective holding tanks.

“We have stopped you,” said Rafael.  “What were you even thinking?  None of those are tested yet.  You could—” He grasped for an appropriately dire side effect. 

“Explode,” provided Violeta.  “Accidently kill yourself by stopping the redox reactions in your body.  Crush yourself.  Become something other than human.”

“Isn’t that the point of this?” demanded Van Kleiss.  “Don’t lie, I understand where all of this is going!  Our direction!  They want it!  You want it!  Why shouldn’t I have it, too, when I’ve put more work into it than anyone?  We’re going to be gods, and I want a spot in the pantheon!”

“There isn’t going to be a pantheon,” said Rafael, glancing at Violeta to see how she was taking all this. 

She looked troubled.  Troubled enough to change her mind about the meta-nanites?  That remained to be seen.  

“You’re lying.”

“No,” said Violeta.  “You’re just delusional.”

.

“You were right,” said Violeta, later.  “We should have shut everything down long ago.”

.

“What are we going to do with him?” asked Gabriel.  “It's not like we can lock him up, or kick him off the island, not without the Consortium finding out.”

“Who cares if they find out?” asked Violeta, tiredly.  “What are they going to do?  Who are they going to believe?  Us?  Or the person who just tried to steal from them?”  She jerked her head back at the closet they’d locked Van Kleiss in.  “All we have to do is say what actually happened.  They’ll fire him.  Problem solved.”

“They’d launch an investigation, though,” said Peter, arms folded over his chest, most likely to hide that his hands were shaking.  “What we’re doing won’t stay quiet for that much longer.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Violeta.  “We’ll be done before then.”

Peter sighed heavily.  “This is it, then?”

“This is it,” said Violeta.  “I’m the one who started this, so I…  But the rest of you should leave.  Take our research and go.”

“Hey, now,” said Gabriel.  “I hope you’re not planning on falling on your sword or any of that nonsense.  Rex is still a child.”

“Of course not!  But there are logistical reasons we have to leave later than you.”

“Zag-RS?” asked Peter, raising an eyebrow.

Violeta flattened her lips.  “Among other things.  We need to delete all the data stored here – destroy it.  Caesar will be best for that.  Our physical projects need to be destroyed, too.  No trace.”

“We can make up an event,” said Gabriel, after a moment.  “Get everyone off the island that we can.  Maybe – Can we manufacture a breakthrough?  Something we can celebrate?”

“Of course.  That’s easy.  We’ve been holding so much back, we might as well have a dozen breakthroughs.”

.

Violeta turned the injector with the meta-nanite over in her hands, thinking.  There were choices she could make, here, and she didn’t know which one was right.

“Mom?”

She looked up and smiled at Rex.  “Yes, sweetie?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s—” she started, then stopped.  “Rex, can you keep a secret?”

“Uh huh,” said Rex, nodding. 

“Alright,” she said.  “Now, you don’t have to say yes, you really don’t, but I wanted to ask you to do something…”

.

“… really remarkable, quite certain we can make sure the memory problems don’t reoccur, even with a higher cognitive load,” said the scientist Black Knight was barely listening to.  “Then, the plant and animal trials of the generation ten nanites are showing promise, although there are still some irregularities concerning sudden high replication rates and—"

Her earpiece beeped and she motioned for silence.  “What is it?” she asked. 

“Van Kleiss is asking to speak with you again, sir,” said the security agent. 

Black Knight rolled her eyes.  Of course he was.  The little slime had done nothing but in the days since he was caught trying to steal from the Consortium.  Although, Black Knight hardly blamed him for that.  She, too, had ambitions beyond those of the little men the Consortium consisted of. 

They really should have thought through hiring a ruthless and power-hungry mercenary a little better.  Oh well.  Their loss. 

“He claims to have knowledge of a conspiracy among the scientists,” continued the agent.  “He wants to barter it in exchange for his freedom.”

As if they’d release him, regardless.  He knew too much at this point.  The Consortium didn’t want details of the project getting out until they were ready to ‘ascend’ or whatever nonsense scenario they had cooked up for their taking possession of the nanites they had commissioned.  But, still, the claim was outside of Black Knight’s calculations.  That meant there might be something more to it.

“I’m on my way.  Don’t tell him and make note of anything else he says.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

She turned away from the scientist without another word and walked out of the building.  Abysus was small enough that there weren’t many cars on the island – most of the scientists though there was no need for them – but as supervisor, she had a few perks.  A sturdy black jeep rolled up to meet her and she got in. 

“Security,” she said, without any further clarification.  It wasn’t necessary.  Her driver nodded and the car started forward. 

Security headquarters didn’t rival the main labs, but it was still one of the larger buildings on the island.  With something as sensitive and valuable as the nanite project – and with scientists like the ones the Consortium had hired – it had to be.  Governments, terrorists, criminals, doctors, corporate entities, charities, other scientists, religious organizations… the list of organizations that would kill to get their hands on the miracles that they were building here was endless.  The scientists here were too soft to prevent that, too naïve. 

… Or so Black Knight had thought.  The fact that they had caught Van Kleiss, not her, had gotten her in some trouble with her employers.  And Van Kleiss’s current claims seemed to support the theory that the scientists were savvier than they seemed. 

Perhaps they belonged on the list of people who would do anything to get their hands on functional nanites.  Although Van Kleiss’s continued existence seemed to contradict that. 

Regardless. 

Black Knight had a job to do. 

She didn’t wait for the driver to come open her door, and instead just strode out.  Other security personnel just got out of her way.  They knew who was in charge.  They knew she could destroy them. 

Maybe, someday, the rest of the world would know it, too. 

She took the elevator down into the detention block, cursorily flashing her badge at the guards.  They let her into the room without a single question. 

“So,” said Black Knight, looking down her nose at Van Kleiss.  “I hear you’ve come up with some new lies.”

“They aren’t lies,” snarled Van Kleiss.  “I can even tell you where they’ve hid the bombs.”

Black Knight crossed her arms.  “Go on, then.  Tell me.”

.

“They’re onto us,” said Gabriel, approaching Rafael from behind.  “They’ve removed some of my bombs already.”

“Dios—We’ll have to start now, then.  Violeta and I will make the meltdown preparations.  You’ll know the signal.”

“Godspeed, Rafael,” said Gabriel, briefly reaching out to shake his hand.  “If we can’t meet again—It was an honor working with you.”

“And you,” said Rafael. 

Gabriel left without another backwards glance.  Some of the meta-nanites were already safely smuggled off of Abysus, but others…  He had work to do. 

.

“What else do you know?” asked Black Knight.  Her agents had found several bombs, just where Van Kleiss had said they would be, and the whole thing had just become infinitely less amusing.  “Who else is involved?”

“They’re going to meltdown the reactor and destroy the nanites,” said Van Kleiss.  “You won’t be able to stop them…  Unless you let me out.”

Black Knight frowned at him.  “I don’t think so.”

“Come, now, Miss Knight,” he said, “I need the nanites, too, just like you.  Or did you think I didn’t notice the way you look when we talk about them?  I’d never want to destroy them.  Not any more than you would.”

“Fine,” said Black Knight.  “But you do anything I don’t like…”  She let her arm form into a sharp-pointed spear.  “I won’t hesitate.  And I won’t make it fast.”

.

Programming was some distance from Rafael’s lab, so Caesar got a text to tell him that the jig was up.  A single emoji.  A pre-arranged signal that everything was about to blow up in their faces. 

A firework. 

“Oh, no,” said Caesar.  This mode of communication wasn’t especially conducive to sharing a great deal of information, so he could only imagine what must have happened to have moved their timetable up like this. 

But it was fine.  It was fine.  They had a plan. 

He punched the initialization codes to begin the sequence and then—

He hesitated for a moment before he hit the button.  But only for a moment. 

At the doorway to the lab, he hesitated again.  He could still—But no.  No, he couldn’t.  There was far too much at stake.  And an explosion as small as this one wouldn’t hurt anyone, even if it destroyed a massive amount of research.  At this time of day, and with the plan going forward no one should be down there.

In the meantime, he had to find his brother. 

.

The security personnel, still looking for more bombs, stopped as new orders came in from Black Knight. 

“Skalman,” said the leader.  “You stay here, watch this.”

Skalman nodded his understanding, and the other agents dropped their loads. 

Unbeknownst to them, an LED at the bottom of the pile blinked.  The security on Abysus was very good.  But so was Gabriel Rylander.  One of the bombs was still live. 

The other agents left Skalman behind, walking past the room labeled REACTOR-1.

.

Caesar, thankfully, found Rex right where he’d left him earlier, in one of the unused side rooms with his homework.  That wasn’t always a given, considering Rex’s adventurous nature… although he’d been a lot less adventurous since the… accident. 

Whatever, that wasn’t important now. 

“Hey, mijo,” said Caesar, “it’s time for us to go.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rex, getting up.  He examined Caesar’s face with an air of suspicion.  “Is this like that sleepover?”

“Maybe a little,” admitted Caesar.  They were, at least, going to leave in the pod laboratory.  He had finally gotten the propulsion systems to go.  “Come on, we’re in just a bit of a hurry.”

Rex followed him out.

.

“Have you shut it down?” demanded Black Knight. 

“Not yet,” snarled Van Kleiss, still typing away.  Caesar Salazar was good, yet, but he was better… if only he had enough time.  “If I trigger a replication cycle, the usual safeguards could kick in.”

“But…?” prompted Black Knight. 

“But it could make any explosion or meltdown worse, instead.  The nanotechnology reactor isn’t a nuclear reactor, the rules are different, they--" he cursed.  “If it goes the way they want, the explosion will be relatively small, contained, but if we trigger an uncontrolled replication cycle, it has the potential to be huge.  Nanite Chernobyl.

Black Knight considers for a second.  “Do it,” she ordered.  “Lieutenant Wulf, with me.  We're rounding up those scientists.”  She spat it like a dirty word, and, to her, it might have been. 

But her orders left Van Kleiss with only two guards, and there was a reason he'd picked this station. 

He huffed and continued typing.  He doubted the Salazars were where Black Knight expected them to be.  He certainly wouldn’t be. 

Now… he'd started the replication cycle.  What else could he do to break the Salazars' plans?

A nasty smile spread across his face.  They'd disabled that program, had they?  He could see why. 

What a shame, then, that Van Kleiss had to reactivate it. 

.

Caesar and Rex walked through the facility, Caesar leading them well clear of the places Rylander had left his bombs, just in case.  They were small, designed only for distraction or destruction of equipment, but there was no need to tempt fate. 

They passed a few other scientists, mostly those who weren’t part of the conspiracy, but a few that were, as well.  They gave him significant looks as they passed, but no one tried to talk.  He hoped that was a good sign. 

.

Gabriel stood at the docks and looked back at the facility.  A security guard lay choking at his feet.  Two more were in the harbor. 

He was a scientist, not an imbecile.  He’d expected some resistance, and he’d a bag of tricks ready to go from the very beginning. 

“Alright,” he said.  “Time for distraction number one.”  He pressed the trigger button and smiled as the distant rumble of dozens of small explosions reached him.  “Music to my ears,” he mumbled, then got on the boat.  “Good luck, everyone.”

.

Van Kleiss’s eyes widened as a dozen warning signals lit up the screen.  Not to say they weren’t plenty wide enough already – the explosions had been a surprise, he would have thought Black Knight’s much-vaunted security forces could have rounded up at least the bombs, if not Rylander and the other conspirators – but the reading he was getting were… bad.  Very bad.  Only possible if Rylander had put bombs in a very specific spot, near where the – But, no, he wouldn’t have, the man wasn’t an idiot and they’d all been very specific about not wanting to kill anyone if they could help it. 

Still.  All remote control of the reactor was gone.  That meant that if something did go wrong, if the reactor didn’t go through normal shutdown procedures, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it. 

He had to get out. 

“Go investigate,” ordered one of the soldiers.  “I’ll keep an eye on the prisoner.”

That left one guard. 

Van Kleiss moved quickly.  He tore the taser from underneath his desk and spun, jabbing it hard against one of the guard’s exposed wrists.  He convulsed.  Van Kleiss pressed the button harder, despite knowing that doing so wouldn’t change the voltage.  Then, he left, jogging down the hallway and around the corner before the other guard could come back.

After all, he knew where the Salazars would be, and an imminent reactor explosion or not, he had things to settle with them. 

.

“Did you feel that?” asked Violeta.    

“Of course I felt it,” snapped Rafael.  He would apologize later, probably, but at the moment, he was rather stressed, and a part of him felt like this was all Violeta’s fault, although he was equally to blame.  He was anxious and would likely remain so until they were safe under new identities in South America.  “It was an explosion.  Who wouldn’t feel it?”

“No, I mean, the direction, the amount—”

The tunnel they were in was suddenly filled with a gust of hot, dusty air.  Violeta and Rafael started coughing.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Violeta. 

“No,” said Rafael.  “Let’s hurry.  I think something has gone wrong.”

.

The thing was, at least some of the adjustments that made the meltdown possible had to be physically done, and they couldn’t just be left in place.  The reactor was maintained by too many different people, not all of them conspirators.  The changes would be noticed, fixed, reported. 

Which meant that the Salazars had to have made them just now.  Which meant that they would be crawling out the only way they could be crawling out. 

Van Kleiss stood over the hatch and made the decision he couldn’t make all those months ago.  Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to kill a nine-year-old child, or even let one die by inaction.  But Violeta, Rafael, and Caesar Salazar, who had happily left him to an unknown fate at the hands of Black Knight?  Oh, he could kill them.  He could doom them and rejoice at it.  He wedged the handle of the hatch in place, firmly, and smiled. 

The Salazars would realize what was happening soon enough, they would know what kind of death was coming for them with the overload and explosion of the nanite reactor.  It was what they deserved.  A chance to dread what was coming. 

But as for Van Kleiss… He probably wouldn’t be able to outpace the explosion, but he could try.  

.

Caesar didn’t worry at first, that their parents weren’t at the pod.  To be honest, that was expected.  He had a set wait time for them, and in the meantime, he could monitor what was going—

“Crap,” he said, fingers flying over the keyboards. 

“What is it?” asked Rex.  “Can I help?”

“I don’t know, little guy,” said Caesar.  “Can you do anything about a nanite reactor about to explode?”

“Um,” said Rex. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Caesar.  “Just get strapped in, alright?”

It would be okay, too.  The nanite fallout was incalculable at this point, he had no idea who would start a replication sequence while the reactor was overloading, but they had, and now…  At the very least, the island and surrounding ocean would be inundated with nanites.  And if anything happened to the STOPR or NONR sequences, that kept them from replicating out of control…  Scientists were almost invariably fans of science fiction, and Caesar did not want a grey goo scenario on his hands and on his conscience, nope. 

Whispering a prayer for forgiveness and hoping his parents and the other scientists would forgive him, too, Caesar started to type in the commands that would abort the overload. 

And then the bombs went off. 

Rex, understandably, shrieked. 

“It’s okay, mijo,” said Caesar, distractedly, over his shoulder.  “It’s fine, all according to plan.”

He looked back at the screens to see that all was not according to plan, or even close.  Rylander must have put the bombs in an unforgivably stupid location, or Black Knight or one of the non-conspiracy programmers must have found a way to lock him out, because he had no more remote control of the reactor. 

This was very bad. 

He looked at the timer.  He had ten more minutes to wait for his parents.  The reactor…  It would probably hold for that long.  If not, he’d have a good three minutes of warning before it blew.  More than enough to launch the pod and save himself and Rex. 

More than enough time. 

(He hoped.)

.

Rafael climbed the ladder, put his hand on the handle and threw his weight against it.  It didn’t budge. 

“Rafael,” said Violeta.  “What’s wrong?”

“Door’s stuck.”  He grunted as he threw himself against it again. 

Violeta inhaled sharply.  “You don’t think they’ve locked us in?”

“Why,” said Rafael, trying the hatch again, “would they do that?  They could just arrest us and lock us up.”

“Arrest implies that they’re a legitimate government power,” said Violeta, quickly.  “You know they aren’t.”

“Detain us, then.  Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” said Violeta.  “Do you—Is it getting warmer down here?”  She pulled out her pad, the blue light from its screen adding to the illumination in the tunnel.  She held it up to the door, and Rafael paused, twisting his head, to see that she now had a weak signal, despite how they were still underground.  “Oh,” she said, “that’s bad.”

Rafael saw exactly what she meant.  The gust in the tunnel suddenly made a lot more sense. 

He pushed against the door again, even if he was beginning to think it was futile.

“Who would do something like this?  The risk—It—It’s incredible.”

“Van Kleiss,” said Rafael.  “Black Knight.  Probably anyone in the Consortium, running on spite.  Can you get a message to Caesar?”

Violeta went to her messaging app and typed out a few short words.  “It’s not sending,” she said.  She tried a call, next, but that returned the same result. 

“Well,” said Rafael, trying to put a brave face on things, “he knows the plan.  He’ll stick to it.”

“I didn’t think we’d die like this.”

“In a tunnel, about to die from an explosion we partially caused?”

Violeta huffed out a tiny laugh and tried to call Caesar again.  “The scientific hubris part, maybe,” she admitted, “but… not here.  Not—This isn’t even part of an experiment.  It’s so ridiculous.”

It wasn’t ridiculous at all, but Rafael knew what she meant.  “Honestly, I expected to get shot.”

“Did you?”

“Or possibly stabbed.  For a cyborg, she has an affection for archaic weaponry.”  He tried to push open the hatch one more time, with significantly less energy.  “Or bludgeoned to death with that… mace-whip thing she invented.  Or the laser gun.”

“The laser gun doesn’t make sense,” noted Violeta, sadly.  She tried to send the texts again.  “I—There aren’t any hinges up there we could try and undo?  Screws?  Anything?”

“Nothing,” said Rafael, sliding back down the ladder.  “Nothing at all.”

Violeta sniffed.  “At least one thing is the way I expected.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re together.”

And they were.

.

The timer ticked over.

“Okay, Caesar, okay, that’s fine, Mom and Dad will just have to catch up.”  Even as he said it, he knew that probably wouldn’t happen, but…  For now, he had to hold it together.  For Rex. 

Caesar was very good at holding things together. 

He hit the initialization for launch. 

“I’m sorry, Caesar, I can’t let you do that.”

“What?” said Caesar, recoiling.  “Zag-RS, but I—”

“Shut me down.  I know.  But I was reactivated, and I can’t let you remove a nanite-infected organism from the testing environment.”

You couldn’t argue with AI.  Caesar knew that.  Hell, he had programmed it.  But—

“That’s my brother you’re talking about!  This island is about to explode.”

“I am unable to affect that,” said Zag-RS.  “Rest assured, that after the explosion, I will do my best to collect and destroy all nanites that escaped from the testing environment, as I was programmed to do.”

“Caesar…” said Rex. 

“It’s going to be fine,” said Caesar, even if he didn’t believe that at all. 

“Yes,” said Zag-RS.  “As soon as you leave the craft and cease your attempts to leave the testing area, it will be fine.”

Caesar had never regretted giving Zag-RS his mother’s voice as much as he didn’t in that moment.  He could see the way its words affected Rex.  He could see exactly when Rex, all of ten years old and with less than a year of memory to his name, made his decision. 

Caesar tried to stop him, but Rex was nanite-enhanced, and so much stronger and faster.  He made it out of the pod before Caesar was within a foot of him and brought his hand down on the outside of the pod in a slapping motion.  Blue lines of active nanites spread out from his hand, temporary circuits forming a link between boy and machine.  The door slammed shut in Caesar’s face. 

“I’m going to go find Mom and Dad!” shouted Rex through the door.

“No!  Rex!  Don’t!  Rex!  Rex!”

Rex, if he was still there, didn’t answer.  A quick look at the external sensors showed that he was not, in fact, still there. 

And the launch sequence was powering up. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” said Caesar.  “Zag-RS!  Is this you?”

Zag-RS did not respond. 

The sequence was completed less than a second before the reactor exploded.  

.

Metal crumbled away from around Rex, orange and black becoming dull and gray. 

Rex.  Yes.  That was his name.  Rex.  He knew that.  That was his name.  His ID.  His identifier. 

And…

He shifted, slightly, and the rest of the metal fell away, into dust that… Disappeared?  Became transparent?  He reached out, trying to gauge what was happening, and was rewarded with a stream of information about nanite statuses and functions. 

Nanites, that was…  Nanites?  Machines…

His head hurt.  A lot.  Why couldn’t he remember anything?

He looked around him.  Everything was…  Well.  There was a lot of rubble.  Maybe this had been a building at one point, but at the moment it was just the side of a smoking crater.  He crawled out of the small hole he’d been in, wincing at the feeling of the hot dirt and rock under his bare hands and knees. 

He was naked.  Why…

Even as he thought that, black and glowing blue oozed out of his skin before solidifying into something like fabric, skin-tight, but more concealing than walking around nude.  Cool.  He hadn’t known nanites could do that.  What else could they do?

He held up his hands, thinking.  Something told him that, right now, he was too depleted to do anything else.  That same something told him…  He was…  He needed to find…

Something?  Someone?  Someone.  He needed to find someone.  He was looking for a person.  People? 

Oh, well, he’d figure it out, eventually, he was sure. 

He looked down the side of the crater.  Probably, no one was down there.  It looked…  Bad.  Really bad. 

No one was down there. 

(Please.)

He looked up.  The rim of the crater wasn’t too far above him, and the side wasn’t too steep.  He could climb. 

He picked his way up, carefully.  A few times he slipped, some piece of rubble less stable than it looked, and had to either catch himself on something else or tuck and roll. 

Surprisingly, nothing hurt as much as he thought it probably should…  Was that the nanites in him helping him?  That was a nice thought, it reminded him of… of…

Who did it remind him of?  Was that the person he was supposed to find?

He reached the rim and just sat there for a minute.  Wow, he was tired. 

But he had to keep going.  He just knew it. 

Outside the crater, there was still a lot of destruction.  It looked like there were some other buildings, though, ones that hadn’t been quite as destroyed.  He walked towards them, stumbling every so often. 

And then – movement.  His eyes darted towards it.  There was a person there!  Two people!  Talking to each other! 

He inhaled, ready to call out, but froze when he saw that one of the two people had a gun and was pointing it at the other person. 

What was going on?  What was happening?  Had Rex ever seen a gun before?  He wasn’t sure. 

The other man reached out and—

--And it would have been better if Rex had watched him get shot.  He watched as things stabbed into the man’s chest life and color drained out of him until he was a petrified statue. 

He turned and ran.  There were trees in the other direction.  He could hide there. 

.

There were other people on the island – and Rex knew it was an island, now – but he was too afraid to try to talk to any of them.  Sometimes, they would fight and try to hurt each other.  Sometimes, they would turn into monsters.  Sometimes, the man who turned people into statues would find them. 

Rex stayed hidden. 

He ate whatever plants seemed least unappetizing whenever he got hungry enough that he couldn’t not.  Sometimes, they made him feel sick, but never for long, although it made it harder to do things with his nanites when he did that. 

He didn’t want to be on this island anymore.  Whatever he was looking for, it wasn’t here. 

There was a dock, on one side of the island, one with boats, but it was guarded by the men with guns.  The ones who shot at anything that moved, probably because of the monsters and the statue man, which was reasonable, but which included Rex when he approached, which was not. 

He didn’t know what to do.  So, he waited. 

And then he was found. 

Not by a human, thankfully.  It was an animal.  It could have been a mouse… if it was a hundred times smaller.  As it was, the thing came up past Rex’s him, and its teeth looked sharp. 

It was looking right at Rex.  He hadn’t noticed it at first, hidden as it was behind a bush, but now, he wasn’t sure he could get away from it fast enough if it lunged at him. 

He took a step back.  It jumped. 

He gasped as its weight hit him, and he called on his nanites to strengthen his arms, orange and black plates growing through and over the nanite-fabric of his shirt, silver hydraulics bending and compressing like a second set of muscles.

He shoved the creature off, held it down, and then, following a tickle at the back of his mind, put his bare hand down on its fur.  He could feel… there.  There was something…  He could fix this. 

A small mouse wormed its way out from under Rex’s hand and Rex… Rex felt better than he had for… for however long he had been here.  Whatever he had just done to fix that mouse, it had replenished his nanite level way more effectively than eating random plants. 

Cool!

But also, weird. 

Whatever.  He had other things to worry about.

Although maybe… maybe, now that he felt better and his nanites were happy, he could get to the boats.

.

He waited until it was dark.  Both because it felt cooler that way, and because it seemed like the men with guns couldn’t see as clearly in the dark.  It took them way longer to react to the statue man when it was nighttime than it did during the day. 

So, Rex crept around the shoreline and slipped into the water.  Nanites unfurled from his shoulders turning into a set of propellers that turned quietly, pushing him forward, towards the boats.  He came up alongside the largest boat, which was also the coolest, and put his hand against it.  The nanites in him talked to the nanites inside the boat. 

There were a lot.  And there were a lot of computers on the boat, too, which was even better, because that meant the boat was designed to work with them.  But there were humans as well, and the boat was tied to the dock by a rope, which the nanites couldn’t just get rid of.  There were safety protocols preventing stuff like that. 

Rex would have to untie it.  He would also have to find a way to get the people, who probably had guns, off the boat.  He had no idea how to do that.  So, reluctantly, he moved to one of the smaller ones. 

.

Black Knight was having a very bad month. 

First, the massive explosion of the main building.  Then, a communications blackout and technological malfunctions so severe she couldn’t even call her superiors on the very fancy satellite phone she had been assured would work anywhere.  Now, monsters in the woods, killing her men.

The few surviving scientists said the problem was nanites.  They had gotten into everything on and around Abysus, if not further, and they didn’t know how to ‘play nice’ with most animals, plants, or machines.  They’d been programed to learn, apparently, through a mechanism she didn’t care to understand, but that process hadn’t been fine-tuned, so it would take a while, and, in the meantime, no computers, no phones, nothing.  Not even her nanite abilities seemed to help. 

That didn’t stop her from pouring over the navigational computers of the boats every night.  It was bad enough that companies made all their cars dependent on onboard computers, did they need to do that to boats, too?  But they had done it, which meant that she couldn’t even send anyone to physically alert the Consortium that they needed backup.  Not that she particularly would trust these boats on the ocean…  The ones more suitable, the ones not just for hobby fishing on the part of the resident agents and scientists, or quick facility-to-facility deliveries, had been stolen by the fleeing scientists. 

But then, sending other people to go do things like that was one of the perks of the job. 

Something splashed outside.  She looked up from what she was doing.  Was… Was that the sound of a motor?  Had one of the idiots she was left with decide to turn on an engine and waste their precious fuel resources?

She stepped out on the deck and saw something move in the water near one of the other boats.  The rope for it was gone. 

She reached for her rifle.  She did love the energy weapons being a human test subject gave her, but sometimes the weight and security of one of these was what she really needed. 

She waited and watched as something crawled up over the opposite railing on the other boat.  Something…

Rex Salazar. 

The other nanite test subject. 

Well, if her employment with the consortium fell through, she could always sell him off to the highest bidder.  She adjusted her aim and pulled the trigger. 

.

Agony ripped unexpectedly through Rex’s shoulder and he dropped to the ground with a scream.  It hurt!  It hurt!  He sobbed against the pain.  He—He had to get out of here.  He had to leave, now. 

He had to go go go.

He managed to drag himself to the small boat’s console and pressed his hand against it, blue lines spreading from the point of contact.  The boat’s engine roared to life as it jumped to obey Rex’s command to flee. 

That was the last thing he knew before passing out.

.

Rex woke to a circular white scar on his shoulder, a somehow disturbing lack of blood on the deck and the realization that having a boat did not in any way mean he knew where he was going.  Endless blue ocean twinkled at him from all directions, almost mockingly. 

He later discovered that while his nanites could do many things, he couldn’t make fuel from nothing.

.

He also discovered that there wasn’t any food on this boat, and fishing was very hard. 

.

The third thing he discovered was that it was very hard to stay awake when you were so hungry and thirsty. 

.

Rex woke to harsh white light, soft white sheets, and gentle beeping sounds.  He looked around himself, squinting.  There were a lot of people here, and they were all… they were all… Asian?  Was that the right word?  His brain felt fuzzy. 

He sat up slightly, and suddenly all attention was on him.  The people crowded around, asking questions.  He didn’t understand a single word of what they were saying, and he felt tears begin to gather at the corners of his eyes. 

Then, one woman in a white coat pushed through the crowd. 

“My name is Doctor Yuan Chenghua,” said the woman in heavily accented English.  “What is your name?”

“Rex,” said Rex, suddenly feeling shy.  He picked at the hem of the sheet.

“You are here because you were suffering from long… from no food.  Malnutrition.  Do you know what happened?”

“I was on a boat,” said Rex.  “There wasn’t any food.”

“What happened to your parents?” asked Dr. Yuan.  “Where are they?  Were they on the boat with you?”

Rex shook his head, even as his heart jumped.  Parents.  That’s who he was looking for!  He could have hugged Dr. Yuan.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I don’t remember.  I—There was an island,” he tried to explain.  “People turned into monsters.”

“Oh,” said Dr. Yuan, who then switched to something in her own language.  One of the men behind her commented on it, and she shook her head.  “You poor thing.  That is… many things have happened.  You are not the only one with… troubles like this, as strange as it sounds.”

Rex nodded.  He had no idea how strange his troubles sounded, but if they were normal, now, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?  That meant that people must be working hard to solve them.  Maybe there was even a solution. 

“We will take care of you, yes?”

“Yes,” said Rex, then something else occurred to him.  “Where are we, anyway?”

Dr. Yuan smiled, and there was something bitter there, but also triumphant.  “You are in the Free City of Hong Kong.”

[mymblesbuir]

Kalluzeb Playlist

I've put together a playlist, on Spotify [here] and YouTube Music [here], following Kallus & Zeb's relationship from bitter enemies, through Kallus joining the rebellion, them falling in love, all the way to their happily ever after on Lira San. The majority are from Kallus' POV but not all. There's a very wide range of genres and styles haha

Here are the tracks (with individual YouTube video links), some relevant lyrics from each and my thoughts on including them!

1. 1000 Points of Hate - Anthrax "I hate you and you hate me"

Pretty much self explanatory, this is where they just plain hate each other.

2. Love the Way You Hate Me - Like A Storm "I'd rather be a sinner than a slave / I'd rather be an outcast than just bow down and obey [...] I love the way you hate me"

Still about hating each other, with a hint of why this time. This one's more from Zeb's POV as a Rebel.

3. Bitter Rivals - Sleigh Bells "You are my bitter rival / But I need you for survival"

Obligatory 'Honorable Ones' forced-to-work-together track.

4. Violently (Your Words Hit Me) - Hue & Cry "Wrapped in a cold world of my own devising [...] Violently, you came to me / Said I could be / A different man, a different man [...] A frozen survivor [...] But you chipped away until some poor soul appeared"

Okay, this whole song is so them, it was really hard not to just paste the entire lyrics here. If you don't listen to any of the rest of these please listen to this one.

5. Dare You to Move - Switchfoot "Welcome to resistance / The tension is here / Between who you are and who you could be [...] Maybe redemption has stories to tell"

Another Zeb POV one. Switchfoot are a Christian band so this is probably meant to be about Christian salvation but I don't care, it fits.

6. Metalingus - Alter Bridge "The time has come to change my ways [...] Could you set me free"

I came across this one on a tumblr post by @mayawakening saying what a Kallus song it is and she's so right about it!

7. For Good (from "Wicked") - Collabro "Because I knew you / I have been changed for good [...] And now whatever way our stories end / I know you have re-written mine by being my friend"

I mean come on. I couldn't not put this one! (I picked this cover just because I particularly enjoyed the sound of it.)

8. Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng "But you had to come along, didn't you? / Tear down the doors / Throw open windows [...] This feeling calls for everything I can't afford to know / Is possible now"

Here we have Kallus realising he has deeper feelings for Zeb but not being at all prepared for them!

9. Hanging By A Moment - Lifehouse "I'm desperate for changing / Starving for truth [...] I'm falling even more in love with you"

I struggled with where to place this in the order — the opening lines feel like they should come earlier, but the chorus has to come after the Feelings Realisation, so I put it here.

10. Beautiful Surprise - India.Arie "Whatever it is you came to teach me / I am here to learn it [...] You are inspiration to my life / You are the reason why I smile / You are a beautiful surprise"

Kallus definitely never expected to befriend Zeb, let alone fall in love!

11. Don't Deserve You - Plumb "Your heart was golden, how am I the one / That you've chosen to love? / I still can't believe that you're right next to me / After all that I've done"

Another one I think is supposed to be about God (all the "you"s are capitalised in lyrics listings), but hey, Kallus pretty much worships Zeb, right?

12. Gravity - Vienna Teng "Hey love / That's the name we've long held back / From the core of truth [...] This is the fate you've carved on me"

I don't know, this one just makes me think of them early in their romantic relationship somehow.

13. Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette "You've already won me over in spite of me [...] I've never felt this healthy before"

Probably neither of them have ever really had a happy healthy relationship before... Kallus certainly hasn't!

14. Too Good to be True - Kacey Musgraves "Please don't make me regret / Opening up that part of myself [...] Please don't be too good to be true"

I think it would take Kallus a long time to stop being in disbelief at Zeb actually loving him back.

15. If I'm Unworthy - Blake Mills "My time before was wasted [...] What if I'm unworthy of the power I hold over you"

Poor Kallus still feeling undeserving.

16. Music of My Heart - Gloria Estefan ft. *NSYNC "Helped me to free the me inside [...] You opened my eyes / You opened the door / To something I'd never known before [...] You got through when no one else could reach me"

Another pretty self-explanatory one I think!

17. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship "Let 'em say we're crazy / What do they know? / Put your arms around me / Baby, don't ever let go"

I'm sure a lot of people thought Zeb was crazy to ever fall for Kallus, but that's not gonna stop him.

18. We've Only Just Begun - Carpenters "Sharing horizons that are new to us [...] We'll find a place where there's room to grow"

Married life on Lira San time <3

[druckkugelschreiber]

I know I said in this post that Andy wouldn't go to space, but like the idea of her in space is so much fun.

Her first time on a spaceship everytime it groans Andy is convinced it'll fall apart and she's terrified. She won't show it naturally, she'll complain about this rickety 'height of human engineering' and how it's worse than the first planes and generally the wors thing humanity ever came up with.

She'll sleep close to the escape pods, cause dying over and over in the frozen void of space is not on her todo list. Also, she will complain about escape pods cause "oh great then I can starve over and over on a god forsaken planet!" but she'll still stick close to them anyway.

Will probably complain about spacesuits being uncomfortable, bulky or something else (or all of them together).

If the artificial gravity fails she will complain until there's no tomorrow but also will greatly enjoy it and just mess around like the little gremlin she is (while complaining).

The first time she doesn't complain is when she gets to see the beauties of space, earth from orbit, nebulas and all that really pretty shit. She gets quiet and there's this awe in her eyes and she realises space is so big she might never get to explore all of it even with her immortal lifetime and so there's suddenly this vastness, this new thing, this hope to her. Something she can't run out of.

She complains less after that happens... until she realises fake space coffee tastes like shit and then she's right back to complaining.

And another thing Andy realises after a long while in space is that she gets homesick for earth. After being there for millenia, knowing every corner, she misses knowing every corner. It gives her a whole new appreciation for everything.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Hayley's Completely Self-Indulgent and Borderline Ridiculous Bill Cipher Playlist (Part 1)

Just gonna go for it and make a masterpost of all the songs (video links included) I've got on my Bill playlist so far.

'So far' being the key words; I've added over a hundred songs at this point and will probably add more in time. Whether it's songs I think Bill would like, songs that just remind me of Bill, the most obnoxious songs to hear on a party playlist, songs connected to the side of himself he tries to bury in lies, or songs that I'll admit are a bit of a stretch but they still remind me of Bill so I added them anyway, I've got a little bit of everything here.

I do take requests for songs to add but also don't make fun of me for some of the more obvious and basic choices because I know. I know. But also I can do whatever I want forever.

I did put some small reasons/infodumps next to each song, to explain why I picked them. Or I'll just say that it had Bill vibes to me and leave it at that.

Anyway, for anyone interested (if you actually read all my little blurbs, massive props to you), the first chunk of songs are listed below. Just a heads up, it's LONG and this is only the first part:

Mariana & The Diamonds - Oh No! - Yeah, obviously. Obviously.

Taylor Swift - Death Note ｢AMV｣ Look What You Made Me Do - I said it before, I'll say it again; Death Note AMV creators can turn water into wine and every time I watch this one, I can't stop picturing the song from the POV of a manipulative, power-hungry bastard with a God Complex. So you know, Bill. But only specifically in this context, it doesn't hit as hard without the AMV.

Fall Out Boy - Centuries - Listen to the lyrics of the chorus. That's Bill. Like...that's Bill. The rest of the song has a lot of really good Bill lyrics as well.

Scissor Sisters - I Can't Decide - Shut up. SHUT UP. I knew about the song WAY before it was ever applied to Bill. Heck, I knew about this song way before Bill even existed so SHUSH. But like, come on. Sometimes a song choice is overapplied to a character for a reason; it works.

Creature Feature - The Greatest Show Unearthed - I think my teenage self would strangle me if I didn't put at least one Creature Feature song on here. Lucky for him, I've put more than one. But the other one comes later. ...Did I add it? I should check that.

Voltaire - Land of the Dead - Speaking of teenage Hayley's tastes, time for the Voltaire songs I've definitely just added because of the 'I'm 13 and this is Deep' vibes. But also Voltaire fucks severely and every Bill playlist should have at least one of his songs on it, in my personal opinion.

Voltaire - When You're Evil - Once again, I'm 13 and this is Deep, but also tell me you can't imagine Bill singing this to himself. No, not in a sexy way in a human body who looks like Oregonian Onceler, in the edgy teenager way where you thinks you're the most evilest evil in the entire world but you're really just going through puberty and also probably transgender, but you don't know that yet.

Voltaire - Death Death (Devil, Devil, Evil, Evil, Song) - Once again, edgy teen who thinks he's the most evilest evil in the entire world (I don't think Bill is actually irredeemably, unquestionably evil, he'd just really vibe with 'Ooh I'm so evil! I'm such a bad guy!' songs).

I'm pretty sure this is the last Voltaire song for now, unless I added Brains! somewhere down the line and forgot. (Also just a mild warning but this song DOES use the f-slur, if that bugs you)

The Greatest Showman Cast - The Other Side - Sighs. Look. It's a Bill and Ford song to me. I don't even mean romantically or anything, just LISTEN to it. That's them. If there were a Gravity Falls Musical, dedicated to recreating the entire show through song and dance, the two of them meeting for the first time would have a song exactly like this. I refuse to apologize for this choice. Also a Gravity Falls musical would rule, someone should make that eventually.

Italobrothers - My Life is a Party - Just the first of my many Dragostea Din Tei choices for this playlist. I really like the original, okay? And I usually end up attached to people who try to remix it/make a new song outta it. This one has the bonus of also being a fun party song.

David Guetta, Bebe Rexha - I'm Good (Blue) - Speaking of the first choice of a song I have multiple times on this playlist in some form. I don't care what anybody says, I think this song is a lot of fun and I think Bill would have it on one of his party playlists somewhere. Probably the Nightcore version, it's a lot quicker and makes for a better fistpumping song, in my personal opinion.

Set It Off ft. William Beckett - Wolf In Sheep's Clothing - Yeah, I'm not explaining this one, you get it.

Vocaloid (made by Fukase) - ‘Cause I’m a Liar - I actually don't like this one all that much, and I can feel everyone's judgment about having a fucking Kokichi Ouma fansong on here. But the lyrics don't lie. Or...I guess they do. It's a song about being a liar, that's the joke. (Also slight content warning but the video has a lot of flashy effects, so take caution!)

Kesha - Blow - Of course we've gotta have some Kesha. There will be more. She needs no explanation.

Kesha - TiK ToK - Once again, not explaining myself. It's Kesha.

Taylor Swift -【AMV】Death Note - Blank Space - What I said about the last Death Note AMV with a Taylor Swift song. It just works so well for a manipulative guy like Bill, but only when set to Death Note specifically. Why? I have no idea, it just hits different. It's like eating crackers with cheese whiz: not a healthy or fantastic snack by any means but sometimes I just want some junk food. Except this junk food manipulates people.

Kesha - Take It Off - Once again, will not explain my Kesha choices. You understand that Bill and the Henchmaniacs would be Kesha girlies or you don't.

Neil Cicierega - It's Gonna Get Weird - Giggles. Also funny enough, I don't listen to this all that often. Dunno why.

Gravity Falls Soundtrack - Is It Bottomless - Triangulum Entagulum - I mean, yeah.

Gravity Falls Soundtrack - A Very Tricky Triangle - I mean, yeah x2. I don't care if this might be cheating, I can do what I want. But also, isn't this such a FUN instrumental? I love the music they use for him in the show SO much. It's so sinister and otherworldly. Top-notch soundtracking.

Voltaire - Brains! - Oh, hey, I did add Brains! to this. Anyway, we can tell I was a Billy and Mandy kid so I'm gonna project that onto Bill. Also I'm 90% sure this is the last Voltaire song I have on the list. For now.

Trolls 3 - Mount Rageous [Extended Edition] - This is absolutely one of my most self-indulgent picks on the list, especially because I went straight for the one that includes the Sweet Dreams part of the song (because I guess the soundtrack doesn't actually have it?)

Anyway, it's a song all about faking it to make it, sung by people who have gone on to manipulate everyone around them by using others for their own abilities. So I think I at least have SOME excuse to connect it to Bill. Maybe? Possibly? I think so. Plus it fucks and actually got me to semi-care about the Trolls films again.

Alex Hirsch - We'll Meet Again - Giggles again.

Marina and The Diamonds - Bubblegum Bitch - Insert that post about always understanding whenever someone slaps Bubblegum Bitch onto a character playlist. That character's Miss Sugar Pink Liquor Liquor Lips now. Admittedly I don't have any other real reason for it to be on here, other than its extreme levels of cunt. Maybe Bill adds it to his party mix at Pyronica's request or something. Now THERE'S a Bubblegum Bitch.

Rihanna - Disturbia - Another song that gives me Bill and Ford vibes. Pretty self-explanatory, probably. Probably?

Malia J - Smells Like Teen Spirit - I also have the original version and the Weird Al parody down further on the playlist, and I tie them all to Bill in different ways. This one's for his more ominous and sinister side, where it's like 'I'm coming and I'm not leaving :)', whereas the original touches more on the 'teen/young adult revolutionary' side of things and the Weird Al cover is just because Weird Al. Also this cover is so pretty and chilling to me.

David Guetta ft.Sia - Titanium - This one's kind of a 'I could take it or leave it on here' song, admittedly, but also it gives me pre-Second Dimension-Destruction Bill vibes, in a twisted kind of sense. Like, he feels all powerful and like nobody can stop him...as he proceeds to make the worst mistakes of his life and destroys everything he knows. Might stew on this one and potentially remove it, but it can stay for now.

Ricky Martin - Livin' La Vida Loca - I feel like this one speaks for itself. He's insane. He's cah-RAZZYYYYY. Also it's a fun party song.

Freak Kitchen - Freak of the Week - This one just fucking rules. I'll admit connecting it to Bill outside of the title is a stretch, it's more a critique on people so desperate to achieve fame and fortune that they'll go as far as putting their own lives in danger to get it, whereas Bill is more likely to put others in danger to achieve his own goals.

But also he was willing to destroy the universe with himself inside it, for the sake of the most wild party imaginable. Also, desperate to seek fame and fortune without considering the dangers necessary to get there? Could always stretch further, say it's a Bill and Ford song. Either way, I'm keeping it on the playlist.

Christina Milian - Am to Pm - I've just really liked this song since I was like, ten, and it's a fun party song. Not all of Bill's party songs have to be super annoying, sometimes they can be bops. The bops make you lower your defenses. So when he drops a What Does The Fox Say? down the line, you're completely blindsided. Yes, it will be on here.

Viva La Vida - Coldplay - A human Bill song if I ever heard one. Another fairly basic choice, but again, I don't think it's a HUGE stretch to tie it to him. Plus again, insert that Top Forty Hits quote from Dipper here. They're in the top forty for a reason, they're CATCHY.

Eurobeat Brony - Discord (Remix) - Yeah.

Alina - When You Leave [Numa Numa] [Basshunter Radio Mix] - I told you this song was going to be all over the playlist. And we still haven't gotten to the original yet. Also fun fact; there was originally another version of the song before this one, but upon a relisten I was like 'Hmm, nah, it's good but I don't know if it's got that Bill energy.' Yes, I can and do compare Dragostea Din Tei covers for my Bill Cipher playlist like I'm comparing paint swatches at Home Depot. It's that important to me.

Switchfoot - Dare You To Move - I have no excuses for putting a song from a psuedo-Christian rock band on my Bill Cipher playlist outside of the sheer nostalgia factor, and I can't even pretend it's a one-off thing because there's another one of their songs further down the list. But CONSIDER; the Axolotl singing it to him. That's all I'm going to say. I will not apologize.

BB Cooper - Blame - To me, this is one of those songs about the feelings Bill probably tries to drown in lies. I realize it's a stretch, because we know he wouldn't actually stop and self-reflect in the way that the song does.

But at the same time...I could easily see someone making an animatic set to this song with Pre-Second-Dimension-Destruction Bill at the beginning and it switches to present-day Bill for the second half. I see the vision, even if I realize Bill would try his hardest NOT to see it.

Either that or he'll interpret it as a 'You see? I'm not the villain here. My tragic past is the real reason I'm like this.' song. But you know, there's always that thin thread that's tied to his past, before everything unfolded as it did. Where at some point, he really and truly wasn't to blame. Alas.

They Might Be Giants - Particle Man - Heehee hoohoo triangle man.

Tom Cardy (ft. Montaigne) - Red Flags UNO REVERSE - I added these two in reverse order, oops. Oh, well. I feel like it adds to the chaos.

Tom Cardy (ft. Montaigne) - Red Flags - Of course. Sidenote but this song is physically impossible to sing out loud in public unless you want some WEIRD looks from people.

Hudson Mohawke - Cbat - Tell me he wouldn't love this garbage.

Circus Music - Just circus music. Because he's a massive clown.

Earth Wind & Fire - Boogie Wonderland - Just a fun song, especially for parties.

Nicki Minaj - Super Bass - It feels so wrong to think of a party mix without it, and I feel like Bill would agree.

Toby Fox - Your Best Friend and Toby Fox - Your Best Nightmare - These two are tied together in that order, for pretty obvious reasons.

Simple Plan - I'm Just A Kid - I bounced back and forth with myself before eventually taking Teenagers by MCR off the playlist. I'm not doing that with this song. It just...it feels Bill, you know?

Maybe specifically my version of him, but also can't you imagine your own version of him blasting this at the age of like, fourteen? Am I wrong? I don't feel like I'm wrong. Also I might add Teenagers back onto the list, he needs more of those angsty teen songs.

Darude - Sandstorm - It's a meme, it's funny, it'd be a blast at parties.

Flo Rida ft. Kesha - Right Round - I wouldn't count this as a Kesha song but also I could easily see them bumping it in the Fearamid.

Sia - Chandelier and Toad - Chandelier - Once again, a two-for-one special. I feel like Bill would enjoy both for various reasons. He can interpret it as just another party song, while ignoring the obvious darker implications behind the song of masking your true pain and emotions through a wild and reckless lifestyle. He'd probably love to get as literal as possible with it and try swinging from a chandelier. The Toad once is ear-splitting annoying. I think they fit

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love - This one is just for Mina. That's the only reason it's here.

Weird Al - Polka Face - Funny Weird Al song.

Vanilla Ice - Ice Ice Baby - Drake suggested this one and it was right. I laughed and added it, then proceeded to get jumpscared by it when I shuffled the playlist this morning. So that was funny. Go, white boy, go.

Tim Rothrock & Jim Wise - Goofy Goober Rock - More Drake suggestions (this and the other Spongebob songs, along with a few others down the line), and this makes me smile extra hard because I've been in such a Spongebob mood lately :)

Spongebob - Jelly Fish Jam (4 Hour Edition) - Yes, the 4-hour edition specifically. If you're not jamming as much as the jellyfish did in the episode, you're doing something wrong.

Spongebob - Sweet Victory - Of course. Gotta honor the classics.

Weird Al - NOW That's What I Call Polka! - Another one of my personal favorite Weird Al polka mashups.

LMFAO - Party Rock Anthem - Would Bill be Team Party Rockers or Team Party Rock Is?

Cutting it off here because this playlist has over a hundred songs so far and I'm only at...57. How fun for me personally to stop there for the first part. Anyway, expect the next part in a bit.

[m1d-45]

on a scale of 1 to 10 — 1 being the least and 10 being the most — how confident are you in surviving an imposter sagau situation?

short answer: i, a non-native in terrain i’ve only ever navigated with 1) a glider 2) no fear of death 3) via a vessel 4) with a map, against various well trained armies, all hellbent on killing me? you’re funny.

now, the long answer…

the long answer, of course, depends on your preferred brand of isekai, as well as the various traits within that. i will… attempt at brevity, but cannot make promises. oh, and there’s no particular order to this list.

1) blood. i myself am more inclined to blue over gold, but that doesn’t matter for this topic. what does matter is if its present and if it manifests immediately.

2) teyvat. is the earth on my side? do the plants and animals know it’s me, or do i need to ‘prove’ it? does it resent me for whatever reason? what’s it’s level of influence (which sounds dumb, but do i have the power of earthquakes and storms or just a few animal helpers?)

3) the imposter situation itself. is there a physical imposter already there,and if so what’s their level of influence? origin? i’d rather go against a wayward traveller than celestia’s puppet. do they have powers? how does teyvat react to them, if at all?

4) speaking of, celestia. are they on my side, the fake’s(if there is one), or staying neutral? what brand of sagau are we even using here? i know i made a post about my version of sagau lore, but one of the key changes since then was celestia. what version of lore are we following?

5) teyvat’s people, emphasis on vision wielders. do they have that subconscious Know? do their visions act up? how do the people overall feel about the one on the throne, if there is one? if there isn’t, is celestia involved in their opinions somehow? what about the traveller, or my vessels?

6) my influence. what can i do? do i have creator abilities, and if so do they take time/some other cue to manifest? is it something i train, or just Click one day? what level? is it an element by element basis, like the traveller, or does that not apply to me? do i have an inventory? if so, can i access the character menus? the map? waypoints? can i move my party, still? do statues of the seven heal me, does food heal me, how do hillichurls and various abyssal beings react to me? ancient gods, such as rhodea (i spelled that wrong) or dvalin or that fucker in the sea outside liyue (yeah i. forgot his name) or azhdaha or yo(u?)kai, if i’m in inazuma? where are we in the in-game lore, by the way?

7) teyvat, again, but this time in terms of biology. i have a few headcanons about teyvat, notably that their gravity is lesser (less fall damage), weather less severe (global warming), and is overall much more temperate/cooler/less humid (global warmingx2 and also just a touch of idealism), so do these apply? this ties into the other points about teyvat, i guess: does the earth let me get cold? can i just shelter in dragonspine?

8) plot armor, for lack of better phrasing. will teyvat let me die? oh, and do i get timeloop’d, or kicked back to my world? do i die, go to my world, then go back to teyvat when i sleep/next log on/whatever? again, tying into other points about teyvat, but will it protect me from death? is my skin like impenetrable or something, or whoops, god is dead, sorry. if i revive in teyvat, is it like that one recent piece i did where the earth moves me? what happens when (if?) i die? does teyvat take revenge?

the long answer… is that it depends.

[cootcutebatkat]

Random Ford Headcanons

He loves cats. Always have ever since he's heard about polydactyl cats when he was little. Hell, Caryn probably got him one once she noticed his fascination and why.

He's sometimes selfish out of protection and has no problem treating people he dislikes with contempt. The reason why is that he has trust issues and tends to make immediate judgements, so he tends to act hot and cold with folks. It's understandable considering peer abuse, the debacle with Stan and the Science Fair, Bill Cipher, and surviving the multiverse. Seriously, can you blame him? If you do, you're on his Don't Trust List.

That being said, he's learned to be polite, sometimes excessively so. That and he's learned to withhold judgements, so he can also be too forgiving at times as well. Again, hot and cold.

As he grew more confident in himself, so did he become more protective of others. That and he's made a lot of progress on learning to trust again. This leads him to being very soft with kids, animals, and other vulnerable things. In short, he is very Not immune to cuteness. (But he's always had a soft spot for cute things since he was young. He just hides it less now. And is no longer holding back his impulses on acting sweet towards them)

There are some things he can cook. He's lent a six-fingered hand or two in the kitchen before and he can do it well enough. It's just that sometimes... well, he can get lost in thought. He's always been a spacey kid. (cough-dissociation-cough-cough)

Traveling between dimensions, between realities with their own sets of rules about how the world works, means dealing with new laws of physics and plants and animals and what is edible and what isn't. Sure, there are recipes, but what is a sniffle-spoon? What do these symbols mean? I'm sorry but I'm still learning your language, so can you rephrase that please?

Baking is... somewhat easier. Especially when it's just plain ol' bread and maybe some confectionery or fruit added to it. It seems multi-universal.

He doesn't just have tattoos. He also has piercings! You'll catch him playing with the ones on his ears sometimes. He also likes to wear rings but hasn't truly worn them in public until he started traveling in the multiverse. The most rings he's worn habitually was when he was crowned king of the Finger Dimension.

One of his love languages is Acts of Service. He's always willing to do a favor for his loved ones in some shape or form, either right now or at least the moment he's available. Which is often soon and is followed by a "Now, what can I do for you?" However, if you're particularly close with him and/or do not mind such humor, he'll jokingly complain with a teasing smile on his face.

As a rambler himself, Ford makes an effort to listen as well, even if he doesn't understand what you're talking about. He's used to struggling to understand others ever since he was young, thanks to his difficulty with social rules and idioms. Also, he understands that he's rather arcane and cryptic to his audience as well, going off on tangents about whatever has caught his interest.

Ford is organized messy. He has a system, he swears! It's just... he's been busy, alright? He knows where everything is, so why mess with it? But when he does have his moments of organization, it's incredibly logical and systematical. But it won't take long for it to become messy again. When will he figure out a proper organizing system?

Ford is actually quite good at communication. But it's unfortunate that people tend to confuse him, including himself. He understands PTSD, but has had trouble with coping and self-awareness. Honestly, the most time he's had introspection was when he was in Gravity Falls as a researcher and a bit of high-school and college. But the isolation and the comfort and such allowed him to process some things. Apparently he has more things to process now. God dammit, says he.

Seems to believe in fate. So he might believe he bears some kind of curse or some great deal of bad luck due to circumstances. After all, what he's gone through is cruel and/or unusual. And somehow, he's survived. Grown stronger even. And he knows that higher beings exist, certainly has been hurt by them too. (cough Bill cough cough)

When you've gained his trust and care, he tends to initiate a lot of physical affection. Hugs, high-sixes, pats on the back, holding hands, leaning on each other, teasing jabs, and of course, if he feels close enough with you and you've especially expressed fondness for it, kisses. Plenty of them, whether your relationship is platonic, romantic, and/or sexual. When he's made his affections to you often enough, you can expect permission to reciprocate and initiate just as often.

Has struggled with suicide ideation for a long time, ever since he was young. Nowadays, he just jokes about it. He no longer feels the urge, but it never leaves his mind either. Rather, it's become a concept of mundane fascination, very distanced but still present. The worst was when he was betrayed by Bill and had to find a way to stop him for good. It felt like it was the only way. He is grateful that Stan is such a stubborn jackass.

Because he is so spacey, he's also surprisingly sensual. It's why he loves physical affection. It's alive. He's alive. He's here. It's also why he loves to draw and do crafts, to bake, to have tattoos and piercings and jewelry. Why he is keen on aesthetics. You'll often catch him stimming in some form or another.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter One.

Oh, you lovely, lovely people, showing such interest in this just off the back of the prologue! it’s a slow builder, so I hope you don’t mind that, each chapter isn’t hugely long, though, 2-3k words or thereabouts, so hopefully it won’t mean people get left behind on the twice weekly updates. As I mentioned in the prologue, the unlock for the next update is set to 40 notes for each chapter going forward, so bear that in mind as I don’t want to keep on reminding you all over that :) Well, here we go, then. Let’s get it started!

Previous chapters - Prologue

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,740

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Lying in his bed the night after the strange and yet vividly real dream, Angel could feel his eyes growing heavy, his brain succumbing to slumber, eyelids fluttering shut as he let out a deep breath through his nose and scratched his bare chest, falling into a deep sleep. He hadn’t paid much mind to the dream he’d had the previous night, much too focused upon his outlawing endeavours over the course of the day, but once again, he found himself in a dream, one which contained the exact same girl as before.  

Keri had been asleep for two hours when she began to dream of being in a club, dancing high up on a podium, which she would have been much too self-conscious to have done in her waking hours, no matter how much she loved to have a good dance to her preferred music.  

Looking out over the huge crowd, she scanned their faces, searching for any familiarity until her eyes fell upon him, staring up at her. Every single person there, including the black-haired man she focused upon was swathed in black clothes, all except for her, looking down to see she wore a long, white slip dress, unlike anything she actually would wear in reality. She was much too accident prone with condiments and drinks for white textiles.  

Moving her body to the beat of the song, her swaying and gyrating not done under any conscious control, feeling like a passenger in her own body, her eyes locked onto his. What was he doing there again? Why did her brain keep conjuring this guy? She had to have seen him before in passing, he was just too much of a vivid presence to be a mere figment of her imagination. Was he a musician, maybe, from some metal band or another? He appeared as if he could be, tattoos, heavy silver jewellery, he fitted a certain mould.  

Or was he a model, perhaps? Maybe that was it, maybe she’d seen him on Instagram. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t spent time here and there gazing at the heavily tattooed, bearded model guys on there. What twenty-two-year-old young woman didn’t enjoy a little thirst session now and then?

After the song had finished, some dance track she was only partially familiar with, she recognised the opening bars of the next, one of her favourites by a rap duo from Michigan she liked called Twiztid, Keri climbing over the rail of the podium and jumping, the air seeming to cushion her and act against the gravity, landing neatly on her feet when she reached the floor below. In reality, she’d have ended up in a heap with snapped bones, jumping from such a height.

She watched as he began to cut through the crowd towards her, her heart thundering in her chest as they neared one another. God, he was stunning. By her own volition then, she began to mouth along to the lyrics of the song, raising her hands as she danced to the track entitled Magic Spellz, the uplifting tune having exactly the same feel-good effect on her in the dream as it did in life.  

Angel stood and watched her, smiling at her, noting how carefree she appeared, looking back at him and laughing before she continued walking to him. He couldn’t place the song playing, but she seemed to enjoy vibing with it.  

“Having fun?” he asked when she reached him, hearing her singing to the lyrics.

“You lift me up in times when I wanna die, intoxicated by your magic spells you weave all the time...” She paused, laughing. “Apologies, I was mid-song. Yes, I’m having fun. I could stand to be having more, though.”

His eyebrow tilted up, his lips setting in a slight smirk as he caught her connotations. “Oh yeah?”

She reached for him, her thumbs stroking his beard as she pulled him down to her level. “Yeah.” That time when their lips met, there was no booming noise to rouse them, nothing at all other than a kiss that instantly deepened, Angel folding his arms around her, clutching her to him tightly as their tongues fluttered together, her fingernails dragging through his hair. It felt so intense, so real, standing there kissing her, everything fading out until all he could hear was a soft ringing in his ears and the sound of his own heart thudding faster in his chest.  

Pulling away, he tried to open his mouth to speak, yet despite his attempt, no words came out, the girl suddenly looking as if she was an AI generated image that had begun to malfunction, flickering before she vanished. Instantly, he awoke... as did Keri.

“I swear, if someone is lacing my flippin’ drinks.” she muttered, fluffing her pillow before turning, falling asleep again quickly. In her last waking moments, she didn’t expect to fall straight into another dream, but once again, he would come to her, she was to find.  

She found herself standing in the middle of a beautiful house, surrounding by happy looking people, some she knew and some she didn't. Looking at her own reflection in a big window she was walking towards, she noticed everyone else was dressed so smartly compared to her attire of jeans and a strapless, black top. She felt a little underdressed and out of place, but no one else seemed to notice her. Just the man who she could see through the window, standing out on the lawn.  

She opened the large, glass door, stepping out onto a white patio, a man sitting at a baby grand to her left whom she passed by, the notes tinkling into the dark of the evening as she descended the steps. As with the other dreams, her words and actions were pre-programmed for the most part, and she had absolutely no control of herself as she reached him, happily being pulled into his arms.  

“You vanished,” he told her, fingers tickling the side of her neck.  

She shrugged, reaching to place her hands on his thick shoulders. God, he felt like he was carved out of rock, such a feast of muscles, and so tall! “I’m back now, wherever the hell this is.”  

“Somewhere fancy,” he replied, snorting softly. “I’m surprised they let my bitch ass in.”  

She laughed, stroking his face. She wanted to ask him who he was, and why, why, why she kept on dreaming about him, yet when she went to speak, it felt as if she had a stone lodged in her throat, no words coming forth. Floundering, she coughed, feeling something pulling her from behind, some force that parted them, her vision spinning. “Who are you?”  

Opening her eyes, the only thing that was before her was her bedroom wall, Keri sighing, rubbing her eyes as the early morning sun stung them. She cursed her seeming inability to shut curtains correctly, leaning over to yank them closed before flopping down on her back again, dozing until her alarm blared at seven fifteen. She knew she’d mostly slept, but Keri was one of those people who if interrupted by waking even once, she felt shattered. Twice, and with the mystery man she continued to see repeatedly in her dreams on her mind, she wasn’t quite with it on that particular Thursday.

A snap of fingers in her ear roused her from her thoughts five hours later, her friend Rachel raising her eyebrows across the table. “Keri? Hello? Some input to the conversation might be nice.” She and the rest of their little friendship group were communed at their usual place in the canteen at college, discussing plans for the weekend.  

Looking around, she saw the expectant faces of Rachel, Frankie, Aaron and Ash all focused on her, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught zoning out. “Sorry, I was just thinking. Yeah, a hike and a visit to the lake sounds like fun.”

Ash couldn’t help himself, perpetual joker that he was. “Ooh, thinking? Sounds painful.” His words earned him a scowl.  

She was quick with her retort. “Only about as much as it hurts you to remember your own name after three beers, lightweight.” She had him there, their friends erupting as he received the standard razzing for it. Ash and alcohol did not mix well, but he endeavoured to improve. Mainly to his personal detriment.  

Since their afternoon lecture consisting of a visit to Provo Peak had been cancelled due to a weather warning, the group of friends all in the last year of studying for their Visual Communications Degree (except for Ash, a year ahead on his biochemistry masters) decided to use the free time to catch up on assignments in one of the plush study suites, pairing off upon arrival, Frankie opening the blinds to keep an eye on the weather. When it snowed in Provo, Utah, it really came down hard.

“It’s a shame,” she lamented, sighing while taking a seat. “I mean, the peak must be gorgeous, but we can’t even get up there!”

Keri nodded, accessing the files from their joint project on her laptop. “Yeah, it would have been nice, but I can’t imagine search and rescue would be impressed if the weather warning was ignored and we decided to hike up there anyway.”

Her words were met by a little grunt. “Pussy.” She turned to her side, raising an eyebrow.  

“Let’s not forget who can’t even walk up Main Street without falling on her ass when it’s only a little bit snowy under foot. Even in Timberland boots!”

Frankie shoved her shoulder softly, snorting laughing at herself. “Yeah, yeah. You got me there, beets.” Beets. It had been her nickname since the very first time Frankie had witnessed her blush, Keri having the unfortunate predisposition of turning beetroot red when embarrassed. All talk of beet cheeks and snow slipping ended, the girls knuckling down to begin choosing the pictures they were to contribute to their joint assignment.  

About halfway through their tour of over two hundred images, Keri found herself zoning out again, her thoughts becoming consumed once more over her dreams, or more precisely, the man who kept appearing in them. Who the hell was he, that one man who she was sure she’d never met before, yet who her dream self ran to, and kissed as if she'd known him forever. She never invested too much thought into the reasons behind why people dreamed what they did, figuring it to be just some nocturnal strangeness of brain activity that meant nothing at all, but her belief system was starting to become tested by that theory.

“I think if we take this one and show it in a different light as well as hue it'd look so effective. But then I guess that does kinda mean we’re blanking out the natural beauty of the sunset, if we manipulate it too much,” Frankie thought aloud, opening the image editing software and selecting the picture, beginning to tinker. “Oh no, see that? Ruins it.”

Keri cocked her head, twisting her mouth as she thought. “It's what we're supposed to do though, improve upon a picture using digital manipulation, unless we pick one of the pictures that are less naturally radiant than that. How about that one? You shouting at me over whether I wanted mustard on my burger or not kinda distracted me when I took it.”  

She received a soft nudge. “I shouldn’t even ask. You and condiments never mix well. All food dry, that’s what you need. Or a bib.”

“Rude.” Frankie was in soft fits at that, clicking the next picture. “Oooh, this one! I think that was one of my fuck ups, but it we lighten it, aha! Houston, we have lift off. A definite improvement!”

“Agreed, but we can do better.” It was something Frankie loved about Keri, the fact that her eye for detail always picked up on extra processes they could run through an image to spruce it up, just like she did then, taking control of the mouse pad and continuing to edit, until the picture looked worlds apart from the original, and all for the better. While they continued to scour, Keri once again fell into daydream land, leaning back in her seat with her arms folded, her forehead crinkling.  

It took three rouses from her zoned out state before Frankie finally questioned it. “Okay, beets. What the F gives? You keep sitting there frowning and looking like you’re wrestling with something other than photo choices.”

“It's no biggie,” she began, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s just that I keep having the same dream. Well, no that's wrong. I keep having a dream with the same person popping up in it. Have you ever had that?”

“The things Taylor Swift and I get up to in my dreams on a regular basis!” Her dreamy face had Keri shaking her head, Frankie continuing. “But seriously, yeah, I have. Why do you ask?”

“Well, after you dropped me home on Saturday night, I had this really vivid dream. I was in this house, god knows where or who it belonged to, that isn’t the point, but I was sitting at the bottom of a staircase and I could hear all these creepy scratching noises, and sounds of what I can only describe as someone trickling slime into a metal bucket, real eerie and stuff and everything was in this green light, except for me. Then I heard this banging noise that scared the shit out of me, so I started running from it up the staircase, which crumbled beneath my feet,” she began, taking a breath as Frankie nodded and asked her in hand gestures if she wanted to go outside for a cigarette, waving her pack of Marlboro Lights.

Once outside, Keri continued, lighting up a seldom enjoyed cigarette. She was only really a social smoker, but felt she needed one in that moment.  

“So, after I got to the top of the stairs, I ran along this huge hallway, and at the other end was this tall guy with black hair running towards me. I had this feeling that I had to get to him, and when we reached each other, I asked him if he’d look after me, and not let it get me. I don’t know what the ‘it ‘I referred to was, but he said he would. Then last night, I had another two separate dreams he popped up in.”

Frankie nodded in interest. “And you’ve never seen this guy before, no?”

She shook her head. “No, I really don’t think so. This morning I made myself late checking through Instagram to see if he was a model I follow or something, or a musician, looking through band members of all the groups I listen to, because I was of the opinion that I had to have seen him somewhere before, to picture him so vividly. But nope, I have no idea who he is or why I'm dreaming about him! C'mon, dude. Help a girl out here. You’re smart.”

“That I am.” Frankie’s cockiness was delivered with her usual playful mirth. “Why not keep a dream journal and write down everything you dream about that involves this guy, I'll give it to Jaime when you have a few jotted down and see what she makes of them. You know how much she's into all that dream interpretation hippie stuff. In the meantime, you could research dreams and their meanings on the internet?”  

Frankie’s girlfriend Jaime was very much into dream interpretations, crystal healing, reiki, everything her girlfriend had little to no clue over other than the little bits and pieces she picked up here and there from living with her.  

'Yeah, yeah I might just do that. Thanks, homeslice. I mean, who knows? He may never appear again, but I would like to know why he's been there three times when I fall asleep, especially since I've never had dreams like that before. It was really... well, intense.”  

Frankie’s eyebrow raised. “Oh, like that, huh?”

Immediately, she went red, Frankie reaching to pinch her cheeks. “Beets, my beets!” Keri shook her head, pulling the hood of her coat up and obscuring herself from view, Frankie laughing as she hugged her tightly.  

No, they definitely weren’t dreams with anything sexier than kissing featured in them. Yet.  

[honey-tongued-devil]

Hi!! Could I ask for “Look at me.  Breathe, there you go.” From the prompt list (I believe it’s number 8) with either Sevika or Silco? Bonus points if y/n is having a anxiety attack (as someone who suffers from them). I’d love to see that caring side!

↞“Look at me. Breathe, there you go.”↠

Freaking gold for my Silco brainrot. I’m sorry if it’s short and it’s not perfect, but even today I had an exam (but I wanted to adhere to one-prompt-a-day). This one is special, you can literally hear Silco in the last part... Because I added the audio! It is a paid cameo from @madmizchyf The requests are open, send me a prompt either at your choice or from one of the two lists, specifying with which character you want it!

↠Word count: 860 ↠No use of "y/n", gender neutral reader (no pronouns for the reader) ↠List: hurt/comfort (n.8"Look at me. Breathe, here you are." ) ↠Pairing: Silco x gn!reader (not explicitly Romantic, it’s okay for anyone who needs to hear the Kingpin console them) ↠Tw: Description of a Panic Attack

↠If you have any requests, ask the devil.↞

The lights are too strong.

You feel them as if they are piercing your skull, intense, with colors so saturated that pinch an indefinite point in your behind your nose, getting you a growing start of a terrifying sense of nausea. It’s inside your head, it makes your brain itch until it hurts just to keep your eyes open. 

And the music is no less, it fills that place making it even more asphyxiating: you feel it in your intestines, it goes back to tightening your stomach in a vise, fondling your diaphragm making it tremble to the rhythm of the bass, and enveloping possessive lungs. 

You can’t breathe at all.

There is not a glimmer of air in that prison of flesh and excess, not a single inch of space between the crowd dancing drunk, screaming, letting the unnatural lights illuminate their faces deformed by adrenaline and only-god-knows-what substance.

The room around you starts to spin, your fingers tremble, and you find yourself sinking fingernails and fingertips into your own flesh in order to maintain control, remain conscious, aware that hell will not spare you if you fall to the ground.

You sweat.

You lift your eyes to the ceiling in desperate search of the familiar handrail while with such a slowness that makes you go crazy a drop of sweat runs an invisible path from the forehead to the tip of the nose.

You are struggling, you are struggling like an animal that clings to life to keep control, and as soon as the slightest space between people’s bodies on the dancing opens up you shoot, pushing people away without looking back.

You don’t have time, you’re suffocating, you’re dying. Cross the space that separates you from the office of the Eye of Zaun with the impetuosity and despair of a man who after spending forty days in the desert sees an oasis for the first time.

You don’t knock, don’t have enough strength to do it, just open the door wide and close it behind you quickly, trying to push away the noises, the light, the smell of alcohol, the screams, the smoke, the intermittent darkness, the bodies that crush against each other.

Your body is heavy and you can’t resist gravity anymore, falling to the ground: knees clenched to the chest, the door behind your back as the only support, shield against the world that rages mercilessly out there, voracious, ravenous.

The only thing you are trying to find with your gaze is Silco, but tears make it difficult to focus on the elements of the room, and you perceive only a blurred silhouette approaching, accompanied by the ticking of the boots.

You try to raise your arms, no matter how pathetic that gesture may be, you need comfort, a safe place to take refuge, and that man’s chest tastes like safety, like home.

But your arms don’t respond.

You just want to cry louder, open your mouth wide and scream, but the air is thin and your body remains motionless, silent in letting tears run through your cheeks. 

As long as man’s thumbs do not gather them in a delicate caress, a light contact like the morning breeze but strong like a hurricane. His is a delicate gesture, he lifts your face just enough to make you meet his two-tone eyes -a combination of sidereal ice and fire of the deepest meanders of hell.

"Look at me. Breathe, there you go."

He takes a deep breath, then a second, slow, until almost instinctively you begin to imitate him, filling the lungs with air all the way; only then he leaves your face sitting in turn with his back against the door; with one arm he wraps your shoulders as he places the other under his knees, picking you up to hold you in his arms, in an almost religious silence.

You breathe deeply, the smell of his cologne is mixed with that of cigars in a mixture so familiar that you finally get back in control, first little by little, then all of a sudden.

And you start crying.

It is more a liberating cry than a desperate one, the arms of the man that seem to isolate you from the chaotic and evil world allow you to be fragile, to cry in that place where if you show weak hyenas and vultures are ready to pluck you to the bones. 

And he staysquiet.

His fingers gently caress your head, moving behind your ears some tufts in a gesture affectionate and respectful: he is waiting for you to be completely vented, he is waiting that all the anger, fear, anxiety you carry inside you have found a way to manifest themselves, without forcing you to suppress emotions, and you cannot help but hold onto him even more.

"I know sometimes your mind is unquiet, but it’s okay, it will be okay. Nothing is either as good or as bad as it seems at the time. Breathe..."

Your heart tightens in a vise as his lips rest on one of your temples, letting them touch your skin in a caress when they open to talk.

"breathe."