#but brain says its paintin time

[lyss-butterscotch]

Rot wings concept featuring rot suns because I got bored waiting for my brother to finish grocery shopping

[akuzon-prime]

“Playing Hookey” ~AsmoxReader

Word Count: 1,890

Please tell me what you think afterwards! I havent posted my writing online in 14 years!

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How odd. You pause by the exit to the dining room as it dawns on you that you haven’t seen Asmodeus all morning. Usually, by the time you made your way down to the breakfast table, he is already there and loading a small plate of fruits for you both to munch on.  How had nobody else found it unusual? True, breakfast was staggered this morning and the brothers were coming and going at their own paces...but even Belphie is managing to stumble dazedly out the door to go nap in his first class. So where is Asmo?  Mammon, realizing that you aren't tagging along at his side, turns back and looks at you. "What ya waiting on, human? Thinkin' of cuttin'?" 

His statement pulls you out of your contemplation and you shake your head with a small laugh. "No, I don't have a death wish. I'm going to go check on Asmo and see why he's taking so long today."

"He's prob'ly just paintin' his nails or somethin'." Mammon rolls his eyes to the ceiling and drops his hands from where they had been resting in his pockets. "But if yer worried, the Great Mammon would go with ya if ya asked reeeeal nicely." 

"Pass." You say the single word, holding up one hand. Seeing him pout, you laugh and turn him around. "Go to CLASS and cover for me being late if you want to help so much! Lucifer would take it out of your hide if you were late. Me, he might spare." 

"Tch. What's in it for me, then?" His blue eyes peek at you from over his shoulder as you push the obstinant jerk out of the room and into the hallway. He can be so damn stubborn at times! You paste a sickly sweet smile on your face and lean close to him to whisper, "If you help me, I won't tell Satan that you found and sold his one of a kind, engraved and gold embossed volume of 'Human and Devildom Sorcerers'." 

You watch him blanch as his eyes frantically dart about for the presence of his younger brother. Determining he isn’t in earshot, Mammon stops fighting you and straightens his jacket with a tug and a cough. His voice is low but you can hear a hint of pride in it before he walks away. "Ya play dirty, don't ya. Learned from the best. Yer welcome." 

He isn't wrong. You grin and turn to leave through the opposite dining room exit. The halls and stairs of the House of Lamentation are all as deeply ingrained into your memory as your own name; you hardly notice how little time it takes to get to the Avatar of Lust's bedroom. You lightly tap on the wood and call his name in a soft voice. "As...are you awake?" 

Nothing. You try again but after the same non-response, you puff up your chest and open the door. Is he sick? Too sick to get out of bed or talk? You squint in the dimness of the room. You'd been in there umpteen times before now so you know the layout fairly well. Still, it is a benefit for your human eyes that he has two or three candles lit in their sconces in the room. The curtains on his bed are closed and you have a sudden recollection of all the movies you have watched in your life that hid a corpse behind similar curtains. Someone sneaks in to plan an assassination and-

Cursing under your breath, you dart forward, and don't hesitate to throw open the nearest sheet obscuring the mattress. You blink. No blood. No mutilated blankets or pillows that show signs of a struggle.  Just Asmo...curled like a cat on his side, face snuggled deep into a soft down pillow. OF ALL THE... Momentarily, you are enraged. You were so worried! Since when does he sleep with his curtains closed?! What happened to 'early to bed, early to rise' to keep his skin 'beautiful and perfect!'?! This man-! 

Before you open your mouth to say something, you pause, taking in a deep breath to calm your irritation. Maybe he really is sick. Nobody should yell at him for that. You lean forward to rest your hand on his bare shoulder and shake him slightly. "As? Asmo. Its past time for class...you missed breakfast. Are you ok?"  All you get in return is a slight mumble before he nuzzles his nose deeper into his pillow. This time, you brace a hand on his mattress as you shake him a little harder. "Asmo. Honey? Wake up..." 

You don't know what is happening at first but a hand grips your wrist and you are tugged onto the bed in a whirlwind of sheets. Startled, you blink up at your friend who is smiling down at you like a cat before a trapped mouse. His lips are curled in a sensual smirk, his eyes are full of heat and mischievousness, and his hair curls around his face like a wave - perfectly edging him in dim gold. You try to ignore his obvious nudity...with great difficulty. "Don't worry, honey...I'm awake." 

Yeah, he is. Not a single thing in his pose or expression seems sleepy! Did he know you would come and wake him?!  Or maybe he had been waiting for anyone to wake him...like a trapdoor spider, anticipating the unassuming passing of its prey. You feel like prey. With him smiling down at you, a sensation of warmth fills your chest. And face. And neck. And stomach. The Avatar of Lust certainly knows what he's doing. You try to form some sort of indignant response but it comes out of you in a puff of breath with little fight. "You...You were pretending. I was worried, you know?" 

"For me?" His voice is honey dripping over you as he leans down to brush a soft kiss over your cheekbone. Asmodeus's grip loosens from your wrists and his fingers slide down the fabric of your uniform till they are not-so-innocently plucking the buttons open on your blazer. His lips ghost from your cheek to your ear - the warmth of his breath tickles the small hairs by your temple and warms your skin. His voice? His voice. You try desperately not to shiver as it takes on a husky note when he whispers, "how very sweet of you, Mc." 

Words. Thoughts. Um. Shit. Asmo stop teasing meeee...

"Wait, As," you put a hand on his chest to try and push him back a little and instantly regret it because, hah! wouldn't you know it, his bare skin feels so wonderful under your fingers. Against your will, your eyes dart down to look at the place where your skin meets his and then wander from there to perfectly formed muscles, dusky pink and perky nipples, and down...down...down...  When your eyes snap back up to meet his, he was giving you a grin so wide you could see his pearly whites. What had you been about to say? Another button of your blazer gives way under his frisky fingers and you remember with a sharp intake of breath. "CLASS. We. We're late - really late - for class. You...you should get dressed. I can wait in the hall." 

Yet, despite your words, which were obviously meant to be backed up with action, you stay pliant underneath him, completely bound to the spell that was Asmodeus. You know he has the ability to glamor less powerful beings. To pull them to him and lull them for the taking...but this isn't that. Even if you COULD be glamoured by him, you are just - pure and simply - awestruck. This isn’t the first time, either. The difference is, all the other times are in public and not his bed, his brothers are always a step behind, and sweet Devildom, he is usually clothed! You groan inside your own head at your inability to move away from his touches. 

"You don't seem to want to go to class," Asmo sits up, knees on either side of your hips, and brings your hands to rest on his thighs. Your eyes dart everywhere around the room and your heart picks its pace right back up to where it had been previously.  Damn, but his thighs are warm and your traitorous body begins shifting your thumbs in lazy horizontal lines across the expanse of skin. He certainly looks like a fallen angel, sitting above you like a sinful painting of the physical manifestation of lust. You bite the inside of your cheek but the momentary pain does nothing to stop the ache spreading through your core.  A short gasp leaves your mouth as Asmodeus runs one hand through his silky hair and another over his pert left nipple. You can see the glint of a small, rose gold barbell and your gasp turns to a groan. When did he get that? The sound you make causes him to close his eyes and tilt his head back as if the groan itself had been a touch on his body. 

"A-Asmo-"

He falls forward and boxes you between his arms again, pressing his lips to yours in a feverous frenzy. Your hands fly from his thighs to his shoulder blades in surprise but it’s all you can do to not shift desperately against him as you give in to the heat of his mouth on your own. Your eyes fall shut and you slide your tongue across the seam of his lips. With a hum of pleasure, his part instantly and he moans softly into your mouth as his tongue slides languidly along yours. You both have made out before in quick, stolen moments but this is...KISSING. You are breathing for one another, hearts pounding in sync. He drags his lips from your's in a sloppy trail down to your neck. Nipping your skin, he begs, "Forget class. Stay here with me and have some fun." 

Unlike Mammon's suggestion, your brain doesn't immediately shut this one down. You and Asmo have never had a moment to yourselves that weren’t chaperoned or in public. What did his brothers think he was going to do - corrupt you? I want him to corrupt me. That helpless thought makes you urge him on more. He's at the corner of your collar now and you want his lips to venture farther. Slipping your hands off of him, you begin to unbutton your dress shirt. He purrs in approval as you reveal more and more flesh to him. Your voice is a reedy whine. "J-just...one class. Maybe two. If we're both gone, they'll figure it out..." 

You open your eyes and find him peering up at you from your collar bone - amber eyes peeking through a sheet of golden waves. He licks his lips slowly and your eyes trace the movement. Finishing off the rest of the buttons for you, he sits back up and spreads your shirt and blazer apart to gaze down at you with undisguised ardor. "Oh, Mc." His smile turns feral and your body responds even more to it than his gentle teasing. "We've been dancing around this for too long. What makes you think this will be over as quickly as two classes?”

TBC...?

Written for @milas-imaginarium 's Asmo Appreciation week~

[insertdisc5]

homestuck epilogues stuff

thoughts about the homestuck epilogues, as in, spoilers and theories and things ive noticed by reading it over twice and talking with friend @kravicle while they were reading

this is just a list of theories me and krav came up with ok. also stuff u might not pick up in only one read? we’re just spitballing here 

MEAT AND CANDY TEREZI ARE PROBABLY ONE AND THE SAME

> just didnt see proof they weren't the same lmao, we only get john+terezi's messages from both timelines and she could have gotten messages from both meat!john and candy!john

>time is fucked on her end also so (shrugs)

>(terezi meeting meat!john) "something else is different about him. different, somehow, from how she thought he’d be when she imagined they’d next meet. under all the gore, he smells... too fresh."

>TEREZI: HMMM

TEREZI: YOU SM3LL OLD3R

TEREZI: BUT NOT 4S OLD 4S 1 THOUGHT YOUD B3

JOHN: what does that mean?

TEREZI: DONT WORRY 4BOUT 1T

>"In multiple realities, all [John] wanted for her was this. To be home safe, with all their friends. And now that she’s here, she’s lost."

> (meeting Meat!roxy) "Terezi’s head is filled with stories about a different version of Roxy—the polar opposite of the one standing in front of her."

DIRK’S PLAN PART 1 (free will)

>maybe plans to get Actual Free Will thru ultimate godhood??? also explains why he feels okay with removing free will from his friends- for him, this isnt real free will anyway?

>(dirk talking about kanaya) "What WAS she thinking? What are any of us thinking, really? Who’s doing the thinking, and who’s having the thoughts?

The more you study the question, the more it seems all concrete forms of accountability go up in smoke. Her original thoughts were never that important, and the significance of the idea that she was the one authoring them was always a bit overrated. My mission is to someday clear this all up for everyone. Remove the ambiguity, suck the mud out of the water. It’ll be a lot better that way, trust me."

>to old callie, dirk's plan "[john’s] ultimate sacrifice was made to put the missing keystone in place and avert the supreme dissipation of all that shall be considered to hold truth, relevance, and essentiality."

>although narrator callie thinks this world has some sort of actual free will. says "[john should kiss terezi etc]. it’s wrong to contradict one’s true thoughts and feelings. irrational. unbecoming of an existence governed by free will."

>his plan to give everyone/ultimate gods “free will” will end up destroying canon????

DIRK’S PLAN PART 2 (complacency of the learned, ultimate self)

>complacency of the learned, 12 people attaining ultimate knowledge (=ultimate self), and turning "either insane or evil"

> (candy ending, rose’s POV) "The thoughts in her powerful brain race. What will they name the planet? How long will it take for the ship to arrive? Once the new race has established an advanced enough civilization thousands of years from now, who will the lucky kids be? The ones who get the chance to play what will arguably be the most important session in the history of Sburb?" 

>finding more people to attain ultimate godhood???

>dirk asks terezi to come with him and rose at the end of meat, along with john's body (implied that she did accept-callie!jade points and dave thinks she points both to dirk+rose and john+terezi, callie doesnt prove him otherwise)

>dirk wants 12 ultimate gods for each aspect????

>"If your perception expands beyond the meat sack of your body, then are you really an individual anymore? Why shouldn’t we become gods? Why shouldn’t we become one God."

- (callie speaking) "[John] is simply being barred from ignoring his true thoughts. even without the aid of a juju, he is fortunate enough to be blessed with the only true form of divinity. to be released from the prison of nonsensical inhibitions which so often psychologically hobble the more primitive forms of life."

>callie is probably an ultimate god, terezi should be?? with rem8mb8r?

DIRK’S NARRATOR STUFF

>dirk probably doesnt know hes in a story/that he has an audience (us) "How can I respect a fucking pronoun when nobody can even hear me?”

>does dirk control people by using you-ness? using 2nd person to control, 3rd person to narrate?

>”JADE: and where there is an identity, there can also be an agenda.”

CANDY TIMELINE STUFF

>part of the black hole, a utopia, place removed from reality/canon in some way??? WEIRDO DREAM BUBBLE????

>cut off from canon in some way- dirk and rose cant get to ultimate godhood anymore, john cant use retcon powers

>candy!john mentions multiple times he doesnt think of him and his friends as "real"

>sky in candy!timeline described as more vibrant (VS pre-sburb being described as muted)

>candy!karkat talking to sollux and probably being foreshadowing without knowing: “KARKAT: I THOUGHT THAT YOU TWO LITERALLY DIDN’T EXIST ANYMORE! KARKAT: OR AT THE VERY LEAST WERE TRAPPED IN A DEAD UNIVERSE PERPETUALLY COLLAPSING INTO ITS OWN ASSHOLE.”

>CALLIOPE: we’re all going to be very, very happy. I trUly believe that. ^u^ 

>ROSE: Oh Kanaya, you’re right.

ROSE: We are going to be so astonishingly happy!

>ROXY: omg

ROXY: were gonna be SO freakin happy!

>Dirk in Meat: "Cherubs are fuckin’ weird, I’ll totally concede. Still not sure what makes them tick. What they idealize, what they really want. It all comes across to me as a little cloying. Perfection to them is a sweetness beyond comprehension. Sugar so potent it’s poison to us. To our bodies, to our souls. Like the place she was operating from was a realm of self-construction. A bubble of pure, phantasmal confection."

>end of meat!callie can see into candy!timeline ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls

TEREZI: WH4T?

ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise

ROXY: some of it is like

ROXY: weird and violent??

ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um

ROXY: nudity????

TEREZI: >:?

ROXY: yeah yikes

ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit

>obama’s here. god i need a minute

>dirk told gamzee something??? 

“DAVE: wheres dirk

GAMZEE: tHeRe’S nO nEeD tO wOrRy AbOuT hIm. :o)

GAMZEE: YoU’rE gOnNa GeT wHaT’s BeSt FoR yOu. He ToLd Me ThAt, AnD i’M gOnNa MaKe SuRe HiS wIsH mAkEs LiKe A mOtHeRfUcKiNg MiRaClE aNd GeTs TrUe.

[...]

GAMZEE: YoU dOn’T gOt AnY nEeD tO gO aNd CoNcErN yOuRsElF wItH hIs MoRtAl FlEsH bOdY oUt HeRe In ThIs CaNdYcAnE wHiRlPoOl BeYoNd ThE iNfInItE bLaCk WiNk Of ThE wIcKeD sInGuLaRiTy, My NiNjA.

GAMZEE: a SaCk Of MeAt AnD bOnEs In OnE lIfE oR tHe NeXt Is OnLy A mEaNs To ThE fInAl ToTaLiTy ThAt WiLl DaMn AnD rAiSe Us AlL iN bRiLlIaNt ApOtHeOsIs.

GAMZEE: In ThE oNe TrUe LiFe We AlL fLoW fRoM tHe OnE tRuE pEn,

GAMZEE: aNd EvErY hEaD rOlLs DoWn ThE pAtH tO tHe OnE tRuE hAnD.”

> dirk before killing himself:  “ It is the very last moment of narratively consequential action that will happen in this whole, barren world. “

OTHER STUFF

> dirk teaching men about "combat, philosophy, life, love." (jake, dave, obama, not said explicitly but also probably gamzee????) what is UP with that

>gamzee also wanting to teach kid tavros about combat philosophy life love, “to behave the way a mentor does”

>re: john “Your complete lack of remarkability, specific motivation, drive, opinion on where to direct your own fate—these deficiencies are exactly what made you so useful, so susceptible to being endowed with the you-ness I’ve borrowed to satisfy my purposes.”

>at the end of meat, callie in jade's body in candy timeline kills lord english and gets big powers or whatever. cherub stuff

>terezi gets a text at the end of Meat, we dont know from whom (candy!(vriska)?)

>john left letters for everyone in Meat but no one’s found them yet?

>snapchats were probably before the split 

>this whole post makes both me and krav sound like we’re been talking about this for 24 hours straight (we did)

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 66

Title & Song: Your Sins Will Find You out

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 6100+

Summary:  ****IF YOU WOULD BE OFFENDED BY BLASPHEMY WITH CHRISTIANITY AND/OR CATHOLICISM...DO NOT READ THIS.**** Because this is all about a former Catholic letting out her pent up rage for it and her father by fucking her Jewish boyfriend in a confessional and having a nasty mouth while he role plays as a priest. Alfie and Gen are naughty. Let us never forget that. Amen.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit Sexual Content: Vaginal and anal play. Dirty Talk. Sex in a confessional. Role Play as a Priest. So, blasphemous if you’re into that sort of thing. A giant fuck you to her Catholic upbringing and dad. FLUFF. Talk of marriage. They’re so twisted I adore them. 

**Chapter song is Your Sins Will Find You Out by Eli Paperboy Reed.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You meet him at the church, a large and old cathedral that apparently matched the importance of the man who had passed. You hadn't known him but knew he was a big deal in the jewelry quarter, and if he was important enough for Alfie to feel the need to be seen at the funeral you figured it was important enough to dress up for. 

Granted, it certainly felt correct to walking into a Catholic church in all black for the first time in over thirteen years. As was your intention, heads turn when you walk in and you feel a tingling sense of naughtiness pass over you. Perhaps it was that Catholic guilt that had been beaten into you over the years through corporal punishment. The wild years you'd spent beating that guilt away with the same actions that put it into in the first place come to mind, you slink about the stone and stained glass in the entryway, looking for Alfie.

You watch his face change when he sees you, and it does more for you than endless heads turning in any room could. Your dress, a high necked, long sleeved and floor-length black gown. Sheer coverage over a solid black bodice and skirt clung to your filled out feminine form, your jeweled handbag clutched in your grasp as you sauntered over towards him, his eyes looking over you as the men he's speaking to turn to see what's caused an uncharacteristic silence from Alfie.

You looked like an angel of death, walking into the room the way you did. Your hair plaited and pulled around to one side, a jeweled clasp containing the soft mass of it. Your earrings sparkled, catching the light from the stained glass windows in their multitude of colors. He clears his throat as you approach, outstretching his hand to place on your back in a subtle statement of possession. "'Ello darling," he says softly with a mutual nod as you stand like a statue by his side as he introduces you. "Gentlemen, this is my lovely Miss Genevieve Durand," he spoke smoothly, you loved the pride you could hear in it in its gruffness.  "This is Mr. Doyle, Mr. Callahan. Jewelers both and Doyle is an old school mate of mine." he elaborates as you extend your hand to eldest first.

"Mr. Callahan." you give a polite nod and curtsy to them both as they shake your hand, seemingly unsure of the boldness of the gesture from a woman, and possibly hesitant to touch something seemingly owned by Alfie. "Mr. Doyle. Lovely to meet you both."

"Miss." they both respond politely.

"Might I say your jewels are pristine, Miss Durand." Mr. Callahan says.

"You may." you give him a friendly smile to break the tension. "And thank you. I take great pride in them." you return your hands to your purse in front of you.

"Would you excuse us?" Alfie says, a hand lightly on your elbow to pull you towards the large, daunting wooden doors that led into the arched peaks of the cathedral.

"Something the matter?" you whisper, recognizing the acoustics of the room would be awe-inspiring.

"No, no," he says with a shake of his head. "Just wanted a moment with you before..." he gestures vaguely with his hand to the pulpit. "...all this begins." he huffs out. You walk leisurely past statues and towering examples of art in the room as you speak softly, moving among the attendees with polite nods. "I must say you look stunning." he expresses closely to your ear.

"Thank you darling." you bat your lashes at him. "You look handsome as always. Did you trim your beard?" you ask, refraining from running your fingers through it.

"I did, ever the observant one." he chuckles. "You look like the angel sent down to retrieve the man in question today from his final resting place. A portrait of the angel of dark and light, love." he muses.

"You speaking of beauty in such a macabre way will do things to me Alfie, you know this." you smirk at him.

"As it should. Perhaps if death had looked like this I wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive during the wars, eh?" he gives a cheeky grin and the thrill of the discussion in such a morbid way was causing your face to blush. "You've been paintin' me as deities but if I were a painter, yeah? I'd be paintin' you exactly like 'is. Like a female Abaddon, dripping in all black, joining with the abyss. Oh, what fire and destruction you could bring, my love." he whispers. "Never full so the eyes of man are never satisfied." he recites and you blush deeper shades as those soft lips seduce you with their silver tongue accomplice.

"If you keep charming me in such a way we both very well may burst into flames in this church." you hold back a giggle that threatened to break the solemn silence of the dark atmosphere. "Trying to seduce me at a funeral. My word, Alfie." you playfully scold, a gentle smack to his chest. "Have my lurid curiosities started rubbing off on you?" you question.

"More interesting in rubbin' off on you, love." he says without making eye contact, an entirely casual delivery that makes you cover your mouth to stifle the laugh.

"Alfie Solomons." you hiss with wide eyes and pursed lips to hide your smile.

"Wot?" he grins and it charms you entirely.

"You should stop enabling me, who knows what'll happen if you keep talking like that."

"I know what'll happen." he nods and leans in close. "And it has been nearly two weeks since I've been with you and I have to say I welcome whatever that aberrant brain of yours can come up with." he gives you cocky nod of his head.

"Is that a challenge?" you ask with raised brows.

"It's whatever you want it to be love." he coos.

You sit through the lengthy service and behave, the smoke and costume bringing back flashes of your childhood. Alfie quirks his eyebrow at you when you recite the readings, you ignore him, you couldn't help that they'd been engraved into your psyche by cold and brutal nuns that would lash at your hands if you didn't recite them properly. Your hands started to ache just at the thought. This all led you back to your father and thinking about the man that had spoken to you fills you with a deep annoyance you try to keep from turning into red hot anger. But the lingering effects of Alfie's cheeky words stay with you, you can feel it every time you shift your thighs. It brings back an old and familiar feeling, that naughtiness you felt so often when you were younger that couldn't be contained. That want to rebel, to be bad and revel in it. You let your anger fuel it, planning what you might do to indulge in it. It'd been so long since you'd gotten up to some good old fashioned naughtiness, perhaps it was time to get back in touch with your sexually adventurous side again since you had a singular man to cater to your whims now. And he certainly seemed enthusiastic to do so.

Alfie can see the tension around your eyes, the way they looked out far past the priest who was speaking. He wasn't sure what the cause of it was, but when he reaches out to put his hand on your thigh your eyes flutter out of their trance and you take a deep breath and smile at him softly. You scoot closer, he puts his arm over your shoulders and your cross your legs towards him. You let your hand rest on his thigh to plant the seed in his head that you might do more. But you resist. You rest against him, your thumb moving back and forth slightly on occasion, leaving him wondering about your motive.

It is announced the cemetery that the man will be taken to and it is asked for everyone to clear out, with instructions given on who to follow to get there. As the front moves out first, once the procession gets back to you, you reach out and takes his arm gently to keep him close and before you reach the doors, you step to the side and grip his arm, he looks to you and moves out of the stream of people. You say nothing and neither does he, nodding and waiting as the others filed out. Soon the room was empty.

"You alright, love?" he whispers, leaning into your side.

You shake your head, but your eyes don't read as upset and he lets out a low groan before a mischievous smile comes across your lips. You wait until you hear the front doors close, peaking around the doorway to see only one person left, a very elderly woman who was  making her way up the stairs.

"Gen," he whispers, getting your attention. "What are you doin'?" he narrow his eyes at you.

"Having a little fun." you say turning and letting a purposely seductive smile comes across your face. You walk up to him, hands sliding under his coat. "You want to have some fun with me Alfie?" you ask, batting your lashes at him, raising your chin to meet his face.

"What ya got in mind?" a deep, masculine chuckle escapes him.

"I'm feeling rather naughty." you begin with a pout. "Rather lustful. Sinful really." you purr. "You want to play a bit of pretend with me? I've never fucked in a church and I find myself feeling a bit devilish in here..." you grin. "Father." you let out a deep giggle and your tongue peaks out from between your teeth.

"Ah, child." he nods, catching on immediately, but of course he would. "What can I help you with?" he takes your face into his hands, speaking low and slow to you.

"I need to make a confession," you say, pulling away and walking towards the confessional booth that lay in a secluded hallway in a wing off of the main, highly decorated cathedral. "Would you hear me out, Father?" you ask, opening the door to what would be his side of the wooden booth, your back arched and pressed against the door.

"That I would." he says with that deep velvet tone that touches you in your most intimate places.

You move to the other side of the booth and sit, hands in your lap, the space smaller than you remember, the lights filtering in from the tinted glass top, a suited red wash over the cubicle. "Forgive me Father. For I have sinned. It has been... thirteen years since my last confession." you let out a chuckle that is purely you and not part of the role-playing you were partaking in.

He slides open the barrier, the lattice separating the two of you. You can see his intimidating silhouette also bathed in red light. He leans back against the wall. Trying to recall everything he knew about Catholicism. “Please tell me of your sins." He begins with simply.

“I accuse myself of lust, Father.” Your voice quiet and breathy, making the hairs on his arms prickle up at attention. “You see... there is this man.” He feels the corner of his mouth pull back into a smile. “He does things to me. Makes me feels things. Gives me the most perverse thoughts. Sinful and adulterous things, Father.” You whisper.

"What thoughts, I must know the nature of your sins." you can tell by his low and breathy tone that you're having an effect on him.

"Sodomy," you whisper. "I want him everywhere, Father. All the time. In the most unnatural of ways." your words and low tone travel over his skin and make his cock twitch to attention. "I get so turned on thinking about him wasting the gift of life in my mouth just so I can taste him that I pleasure myself to the thought." you run your hands down your chest, stimulating your hard nipples, listening to his heavy breathing just a short distance away. “I know it is wrong, Father. I know I should stay away from a man that makes me lose control the way he does. But I cannot. I know he’s bad. Not only for my salvation but he is a criminal, Father as well. Bad for me because he inspires such lustful yearning. Bad for himself for what he does. And oh... does it makes me wet thinking of the evil he does.” you practically moan, hearing him shift next to you.

“Why would you associate with a man like this, child?” an almost dopey smile on his face, he grunts and move his hips to undo the button on his trousers.

“Because I like being bad.” You purr. “I like that he’s a criminal. A thief. A liar. A murderer. All these things are sins I must also ask for forgiveness for. But none as much as my sins of the flesh. I’ve never met a man like him. When he touches me it makes me so hot it’s as if his fingers were the licking flames of hell come up to devour us both in our sin. I find myself at worship of him instead of Christ." you bite your lip and start the pull your skirt up your thighs with a low hum.

“A man who inspires blasphemy is no man to be with.”  he groans, his hand moving under his clothes to rub at himself.

“But that is what makes it so delicious, Father. I am a filthy sinner and I’ve come to confess it. I love him and I love how he possesses me. He makes me his whore,  Father. And I must confess these sins because they consume me mind, body, and soul just as he has.”

“And you are looking to be cleansed of your sins?” his head rests back, eyes closed as his hand moves slowly up and down his hard cock.

“Yes, Father. Cleanse me of my lustful sins.” you whine, your hand rubbing yourself over your knickers.

“You know I have the power to absolve you. And your sins are grave, child.” he says through gritted teeth, the filthy words still floating around his lust hazed mind.

“They are Father. I feel I must be punished for them.” you hear him grunt and you slip your fingers under your pants, sliding them down your legs.

“You must repent. Then I will forgive you and you will be cleansed.” he smirks, his tongue flicking out over his open lips, hand unintentionally tighter now around himself.

“What must I do Father?” You play up, a wicked smile on your face as you spread the growing wetness up and down your soft slit.

“You must kneel.” he says in a demanding tone that makes you whimper

“To pray Father?” you ask innocently.

“To worship.” He states certainly and you shut your eyes with a heavy exhale. “You must come here, child. Your sins are so grave I must lay my hands on you to see the proof of your sin myself.” you let out a low growl of pleasure for the demand.

“Anything you say, Father.” You slip out of the booth, a quick look around to find no one around before you slowly back into his side of the confessional.

He sits with his cock out, hand loose and teasing around it. You turn and act surprised and he is smitten with by your acting once again.

“Father!” You say with an accusation, your lips and tongue moving slowly, eyes fixated on his hand, shaking his cock at you.

“You’ve told me of what a whore you can be. I want you to embrace it, purge it all here and now. Show me what a whore you are so I will know what punishment will serve you.”

You drop to your knees and take his cock out of his grasp. ”Will this grant me forgiveness?” you whisper licking your lips only a breath away from him, looking into his dark eyes, mouth set in a wicked smile.

“Only I have the power to make that decision.  And if you truly wish to be absolved, I will know through your actions." his eyes stare into yours as you ghost your lips across the underside of his cock. "So show me."

"What a whore I am for him?" you ask, lips moving back down his length.

"Yes." he nods and rests his hands at his sides, a challenging look on his face.

You close your eyes and stick out your tongue, a broad lick across his balls as his nostrils flare. You do as he asks, the thrill of the crude words, the power he was holding over you in this scenario all drove you forward. You take his balls into your mouth, humming as your lips suck at the soft flesh. You return your gaze to him, a long open-mouthed lap up his cock before taking him down and into your throat. He releases a noise that tells you you're doing well. He brushes a few fallen pieces of hair from your face, his hand waiting, resting lightly on your head. You keep quiet as best you can, knowing the door was latched, but that was all the protection you had against any intrusion. You bob on him deeply, lips gripping and tongue swirling, the wet sucking noises, and your gasping breaths as you popped off him the only sounds. The heat started to build in the small location, you could feel the sweat starting to form on your spine and between your legs as they were pushed together in the small space.

He grips you by your braid at the base of your head, pulling your head back and tapping his cock against your lips that were set in a wicked smile before extending out your tongue and panting for him. "If you want my forgiveness and my absolution, you must do what I ask of you." his tone was deep and dark, eyes giving you no reason to be drawn out of the fantasy.

"Am I not proving what a whore I am?" you ask with batting lashes, such a juxtaposition to how you were gagging on his cock just moments before. "Forgive me," you whisper, taking his hands and placing them on either side of your face. "Use me." you ask of him, "Fuck my face. I want you to." you say with pouted lips before your long lashes flutter shut, casting shadows as you take him down again, shaking your head once you reach the base of him.

"Fuck." you hear him groan out, trying to stay quiet. He grabs your head, fingers in your pulled back hair, as his hips begin to move himself in and out of your mouth, feet pushing hard into the floor as he picks up speed. You welcome it, keeping your lips taut and your throat relaxed, still sucking at him, breathing through your nose and making gagging noises as he ventured far into you. He stops as he feels the saliva follow a hard gag, lifting your head up to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

"Don't stop." you say with the tip of his cock in your mouth and he growls, you moan as he goes right back to it, swearing under his breath. He doesn't want to finish in your mouth, even if you'd confessed to loving it. He wants to give you something more, up close and personal to thank you for what was one of the more twisted fucks he'd ever had. He pulls you off of him again, this time one handed with a fist full of hair.

You look a mess and you know it, your eye makeup smudged with watery eyes, lipstick nowhere to be seen now except at the base of his cock. With spit strung from your mouth to his cock, hanging from your chin he swears at the sight. "You shouldn't swear, Father." you say through heavy panting and he gives your cheek a firm but not even stinging slap. "Am I being punished?" you ask with half lidded eyes and a smile that makes his balls tighten in its naughtiness.

"Not yet." he snarls out, moving you both in the small space. "Up." he says, hand still on your hair and pulling you to your feet. You both circle, switching spots in the booth as he reaches behind you to grab the chair he'd been sitting in after peaking outside to the body of the church to check for anyone being around. He knew with what he planned to do to you, that you wouldn't be keeping quiet on your own.

He shut and latches the heavy wooden door behind him with a daunting and echoing sound. He presses you against the back wall, the sturdiest and most quiet of the four offered to you. He presses himself against you, holding you tight by the chin. "Do you believe yourself to have repented enough, child?" he gruffs out, nose grazing your jaw as you hum in excitement as you lick your lips.

"I do not." you shake your head and give him the largest and most innocent eyes you can afford given the state you were in.

"And do you think you have shown me the extent of your lustful sins?"

"I do not." you answer the same.

"Then lift up the lovely dress." you gather it in your hands, fisting handfuls of black fabric to your hips. "Such a modest thing only a lady would wear. And you are no lady." He shakes his head and hums in a low register "I think your sins deserve more punishment." he grunts, yanking your leg up around his hip hard, a rough grasp on your thigh.

"Yes." you breathily whisper. "I still feel the lust controlling me." you purr.

"Is it? You're being awfully well contained." he whispers back, judgmental and scolding, the back of is hand running up your thigh to your hip.

"Then I will act upon it," you state clearly. "I'm aching for your cock. This little cunt is dripping for you, Alfie. I want your hands on me to be bruising, to show me how naughty I've been. To mark me as your property. I'm here to serve your lust and be shamed for mine, aren't I? Then treat me like some little strumpet. Use me. I'm your little whore, Alfie. Treat me as such." you whimper and whine, your lips ghosting against his. You reach down and stroke his cock, pushing the head against your soft wet folds.

His nostrils flare, a bull emerging with broad shoulders and punishing hands to wrap around your neck, giving it a squeeze as you play up trouble breathing. "I love that filthy mouth you have Genevieve. You dirty girl." he groans. "The things you make me want to do to you, love. Worth going to hell for." he rasps. "You make me more beast than man." he huffs air out of his nostrils and you feel the heat of it across your skin.

"Show me." you rasp out, beckoning him with wet, parted lips.

A sharp slap to your cheek surprises you. "You aren't the one making demands here," he whispers sharply. "You are here to receive me. Receive my forgiveness."

"Fill me with your love and light. Cleanse me with your forgiveness, please." you ask of him, lashed batting at him with innocence to the motion, but the way your tongue flicked across your lips show it to be anything but. "Free me." you whisper, rocking your hips against the head of his rock that had been teasing at your clit. "Show me what bliss your forgiveness grants."

"What a debauched creature you are." he moans, giving in to a harsh kiss. You feel him move fast, a sharp slap to your lips before grabbing your hips and pushing your front against the wall. You hear a brief rustling of your dress before you feel him hard and hot between your cheeks. He gives you a few stern slaps with his cock, a single run down your folds before pushing into you. He groans at the feeling, being able to sense how much you were enjoying this taboo romp as well, as he slid inside you with hardly any resistance.

Of course, you moan and it as always one of the most gorgeous sounds he'll ever hear but he slaps his hand over your mouth, the other hard on your hip, keeping them pulled away from the wall with your back arched as he pumped into you. "Gotta keep quiet, can't have the other's knowing of what a sinner you are, can we little lamb?" he hisses before a sharp slap to your arse. You let out little whimpers against his palm with each thrust, your tongue lapping at the hot skin. "Can't have one bad girl lead the rest of the flock astray can we?" he whispers before taking your earlobe between his lips, looming over you.

You murmur a response against his hand, but it doesn't matter now. He scolds you for making noise, grunting with every pound into you. He hits hard, only breaking to pull you apart, your mouth gaping open from the release, both his hands on your arse and wobbling it, watching himself move in and out of you, seeing himself slick with your wetness. "Oh fuck." you whisper, pressing your hand flat against the stable wall.

"No swearing from you, Genevieve. Naughty girl. Else I'll have to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours again." You respond with a noise of want, his fingers tighter now into the bouncing flesh of your lower half. Your tongue lolls out, the pressure building inside you, this angle always fulfilling you, especially with his adept hands and mouth to accompany it. "That what you want? Wash that hot, pink mouth out with my spunk, eh?"

"Want you to-oh, please come inside me." you whine and his eyes roll back in his head.

"That what she wants?" he lets out a devilish deep chuckle. "Full this little cunny up with me? Make your take all 'a me? Eh?" he spanks you hard and you tense and squeal, his mouth open and panting. "Leave you drippin' with it like the little whore you are for me, yeah? Gettin' fucked like this... by a man like me. You are fuckin' filthy and fuckin' love you for it." he rushes out, pushing his hips out. "Could watch me cock fuck you like this all fuckin' day love. Fuckin' perfect little flower innit ya? And this tight... little... arse of yours." He swipes his thumbs over the tensing hole and you shudder. "Fuckin' dirty girl." he whispers. He leans over you, teeth on your earlobe as he pants hot and heavy against your skin, his fingers pushing into your mouth to silence you, but you moan and starting sucking away and spanks you again. "You were askin' for it, Genny. What kinda woman would you be, eh? Gettin' buggered like this? Ought to just to teach ya a fuckin' lesson." his thumb presses against your arsehole again and your thighs shudder, moaning around his fingers again. "And you want it? Fuck me..." he rasps out, picking up speed and making you whimper, wet swollen lips around his fingers as he held your chin. Thumb circling, spreading your abundant wetness to allow his thumb to slide into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan out against his fingers.

"I 'eard that one, yeah?" he lets out a deep groan into your ear, you hear him huff into it, voice growing rougher. "All your holes filled little one." he taunts. "Showin' me what a whore you are for me... good fuckin' girl. Ya tight as fuck 'round me Genny, you gonna come, yeah?" he whispers, still hitting into you, as you hold yourself off the wall to receive as much of him as you could. "Come hard all over this cock, Gen, all fuckin' over it." he groans through gritted teeth. "You've got me so fuckin' hard, love, jesus christ." his voice cracks with the inflection. "Want you fuckin' drippin' down me fuckin' bollocks Genevieve. My lovely little whore innit ya? Just for me. A missus and a whore. Lucky. Fuckin'. Me." he snarls pressing his nose into your ear.

As it always did, his filthy mouth takes you where you need to go. He watches your eyes flutter and roll back, your hips buck, stuttering against his and it only fuels him to fuck into you harder. He wanted to have to muffle your screams, wanted to make you his by making you come so hard you cried out for him.

"Alfie." you murmur with his fingers in your mouth. He presses them farther in still.

"Don't you fuckin shout now. Else I'll have to gag you won't I?" he threatens and you moan. He thinks he hears a please to his threat and he growls, pressing his thumb in deeper, bending his knees to go as hard and fast as his body would let him.

If he didn't know your body, he would've thought something was wrong. You let your face push against the wall, drool running down his hand as he held your tongue, dripping down your chin, past those pinked lips as you made inhuman noises when he'd leave you with space to breathe. Your knees give, he presses you flat against the wall, still thrusting into you as you shake and convulse. He can feel your rings of muscle so tight around him he whines, feeling your cunt soaked for him, another wave of slick now running down his shaft and over his balls, making him throw his head back and grit his teeth to control himself. He feels your orgasm through every bit of you, your stomach spasms, thighs shivering, cunt seizing and your hands trembling against the wood they rested on. "Fuckin' 'ell Genny, yes, fuck, ya make me so fuckin' greedy for it love. Give me every last drop before I fill you back up." he pants out into your back before he can't hold back any longer. His hand moves from your mouth with a wet slick pop, a gasp from you as you bubble spit through your lips with clenched teeth to not cry out for him. He holds your hips roughly. A string on swears, you can make out "Gimme... ya... fuckin'... cunt." hissed out as he finishes inside you, a hard hit and grunt with each spasm.

You keep your noises minimal, your breathing the only loud thing in the confines of the wooden booth. Your eyes blink open with new clarity, the lust no longer blurring your vision. The red wash over your skin felt appropriate. As he came down, forehead pressing into your back, you feel him lose his tension against you, you can feel the small twitch of him inside you and you hum contently. You're hit with a moment of artistic inspiration. You envision bodies with a red wash over them, limbs against the dark grain of the wood, crosses between heavy breasts, the ends being sucked on by wet and swollen lips. Hands in prayer, pressed to bare breasts, a strong hand wrapped around the praying neck. It'd been a while since inspiration had struck you in such a way. Alfie interrupts your thoughts by clearing his throat.

"Ya okay love?" he asks, as considerate afterward as ever.

"Yes just, help me turn." you let out a huff of a laugh. He does, putting himself back into his trousers and straightening your skirt. He studies your face, licking his thumb, and wiping away the running mascara, using his handkerchief to finish the job and clear the drool from your chin.

"You look glorious in this light, Genevieve." he whispers, gentle fingers trailing down your jaw.

"You look so villainous and... beastly." you smile, tilting your head and pushing the stray strands of hair behind his ears, evening out his collar and vest. "But handsome all the same." you say with a pucker of your lips and he meets them without hesitation.

"You are a fuckin' wonder, my love." he whispers against them, now tending to your hair. "I'm the luckiest bastard alive. I know that for certain." he nods. "You are bloody brilliant. You look so fuckin'....absolutely sweet and then the things you do... oi vey Gen they're gonna kill me and I'll die with a fuckin' smile on me face." he chuckles and kisses you again.

"As long as it's me that kills you." you grin and stroke his beard. "No one else gets to kill you but me." you say with a playfully scolding tone and he lets out a deep rumbling, deeply content sound.

"No one but you, love. No one else but you." he exhales in a happy sigh.

"Because you are mine to do with as I please aren't you darling?'

"Fit to call me your whore instead." he gives a boyish chuckle.

"As long as we're only whores for each other." you nod and return the contented sound.

"Only for you." he kisses you softly. "If you feel absolved, I believe I can give a look out and see what trouble we're in." he laughs and nods his head to the door.

"Forgiven," you say with a nod. "Let's face it shall we?" you ask with a tilted head.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to you, getting a good look at each other to make sure you don't seem too disheveled. You take a deep breath and leave the confessional booth open so the smell of sex isn't so obvious. He walks quietly behind you and you stand by the pulpit, looking around and considering how you'd thought about marriage before. Within walls like these, under all that Catholic guilt you'd never wanted marriage. It was ownership to you, a cage and a sentence of servitude. But now, finding yourself, your heritage and religion all crossing paths to point you to the man in front of you, you felt so entirely the opposite about it.

"Ya alright love?" he asks, taking both your hands. "You gettin' the spirit?" he chuckles, looking up at the stained glass windows.

"I feel... yes... yes I believe I feel Christ's love." you nod and look up and he let's out a laugh.

"Well 'at's a problem for a Jew there innit?" he snorts, shaking his head at you.

"We'll just have to see how I feel after fucking in another religious place won't we?" you say with a smile.

"Genevieve..." he scolds. "I can't rightly agree to goin' at it in such a way at Temple." he scoffs.

"Not even for our Yichud?" you ask with a sparkle of innocence in your eyes and his heart melts at the mention of it.

"Ah!" he says, taking your face into his hands. "There is my sweet little Chanah again at last." he grins and kisses you softly. "Of course we will for our Yichud, my love." he hums against your lips. "But I wouldn't refer to such a thing as fuckin'." he shakes his head and you feel a flutter in your stomach for the sentiment.

"Do you plan on making love to your darling wife Alfie?" you coo, your hands on his wrists that held your face.

"I do. You will be my most precious jewel, little Chanah." he lets the romantic sentiments fall out of his mouth and into yours as he kisses you softly. It was fitting how you both felt soft after such perverse things, it opened you both up, let you feel things and inevitably it lead to romantic notions. A breaking down of one wall to push on through to another. It reflected your dual natures and he found it comforting in an odd way; knowing he had both a devil and an angel.

"Then what of the wedding night?" you ask playfully.

"I'll be so tired I'm guessing you'll be on ya own on that one." he lets out a loud laugh that you can't help but join him in. You watching his face laugh, and at his own joke nonetheless, corners of his eyes crinkled, his laugh lines deep as you smile warmly at him. Even if it did turn out that way, you didn't even mind. What a hopeless romantic you'd turned out to be.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi   @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

[3wisellamas]

Graffiti Wiener

(Oops, my recent fanfic kick spilled over from AT to OK KO.  tl;dr:   Darrell starts vandalizing the plaza every night and the bodega kids find it entertaining as heck.  It’s very long, set aside some time for it.  Also, disclaimer, don’t do crimes kiddos, yadda yadda yadda.)

--

It was early shift at Gar’s Bodega.  Rad opened the store that day, looked at the relatively stocked state of the shelves from the day prior, and floated to the break room for a post-wake nap.  Enid arrived second, and seeing nobody to keep her accountable she swiped an issue of Alt EDM Monthly from the magazine rack to peruse as she lounged on her counter.  As usual, KO excitedly burst through the door last, waving at his mom as she parked the car to start her own day.  But, this early on this quiet a day, his enthusiasm only took him so far into his cleaning duties.

It was too early to be at work, the three silently agreed.  Then, as if a direct challenge to their morning ennui, their boss Mr Gar angrily smashed through his office door.

“KO!  Enid!”  He turned towards the break room door in the back.  “Radicles!  Front and center!”

The three slowly marched forward, Rad in particular taking a few extra seconds to come into the store proper, yawning.  It was too early to be taking orders, the three silently agreed.

Their lack of enthusiasm only raised Mr Gar’s volume.  “You three shape up and come with me.  I got work for you.”  He stomped towards the back of the store, out the loading dock, with his employees in tow.  The four exited the building there, passed the trucks and the junkyard, and turned into the alley, where the sight that awaited them definitely made the early morning shift less dull.

Taking up almost an entire wall of the plaza alleyway was a large graffiti mural, unusually detailed and elaborate for the spray paint it was created with.  The cans of paint in question had been carelessly discarded all over the alley afterward, simply left behind in what seemed like a hurry.

“Disgusting, isn’t it,”  Gar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses.  “Someone vandalized the plaza last night, and today I’ve got two jobs for you!”

KO wasn’t listening.  He immediately rushed over towards the wall to get a better look.  “It’s so pretty!!”

“Yeah, this is pretty sick,” Enid agreed.  “They did this in only one night?”

Gar snapped his fingers to regain their attention.  “I have two jobs for the three of you.  First, you’re cleaning up this mess.”  He kicked a stray can out from under his feet, and pointed to a large bucket of white paint, a tray, and two paint rollers he’d set up underneath the mural.  “I want every trace of what happened here last night gone, understand?”

“Yes sir, Mr Gar!”  The three saluted enthusiastically.

“Good.”  He paused.  “KO, I only had two paint rollers and they’re pretty short, so you clean up the trash.”  

“I’m on it!”  KO gave a big smile, bouncing on his heels at the thought of having his own special mission.

“Now, the second thing…”  Mr Gar leaned forward over his employees, to gain a more intimidating presence.  “I want you three to come back here tonight, and keep watch over the plaza.  If the creep who did this comes back, you’re to stop them at all costs.  Understood?”

Enid and Rad looked at each other nervously, before giving their boss a shaky thumbs-up.  

“If this wall isn’t sparkling white when I come in tomorrow morning, I am going to be very.  Very.  Disappointed in you.”  He leaned back into his normal posture, and even a little further to crack his back.  “Welp, time’s a-wastin’, Bodegamen.  Get to work!”

All three shouted “Yes sir!” after him as he departed back towards the loading dock, leaving them to their tasks.  

KO excitedly hopped around gathering spray cans, while Rad and Enid set up the paint tray.  Enid in particular looked up at the mural again, studying the various scenes it depicted:  A giant orange dragon along the top, who seemed to be desperately chomping and grabbing at a bunch of glittering technoes in mid-flight.  In the center, a nondescript man in a cowboy hat riding a yellow horse, shooting what looked like a revolver at the dragon, and missing all six shots.  Off to one side, a cute cartoony mouse glowing a gross nuclear green, and with what looked like toxic waste dripping from its mouth.  On the other side, the artist’s tag, reading “DB” in simple, red block letters.

She sadly contemplated what she would soon have to do to the piece.

“So...who do you think could’ve made this anyway?”  KO asked as he ducked between his friends to grab a paint can.

Rad didn’t even hesitate.  “It’s Darrell.  No question.”

“Are you sure?”  Enid gestured towards the parking lot with her thumb.  “I know he’s a graffiti wiener, but usually all he does is tag our sign every now and then.  I didn’t think he was able to do stuff like...this.”

“You know any other graffiti wieners with the initials ‘DB’?” he asked, pointing towards the tag.  He coated his paint roller in the tray, and raised it to the mural.  “Welp, guess we better get paintin’.”

“Hold up a second, Rad!”  Enid put down her roller and took several steps back, motioning for him to move aside.  She produced her phone from her pocket and took several pictures of the wall, occasionally stepping to the right or the left to get a better angle.  “It’s kind of a waste to just cover it up like this, you know?”

“Dude, Enid, it was painted by a Boxbot.”

“Oh well?  I still think it looks cool.”  She took one final picture, and then swiped back through them.  “I’ve been reading a bunch of articles in Alt EDM Monthly about this DJ that also posts a ton of graffiti tutorials on Social Media, so I guess I’ve been on a real street art kick.  And this…”  She cropped a picture of the mouse portion.  “...is my new lock screen.”

“Heh, okay then,” Rad scoffed.

She put her phone away and grabbed the roller again.  “Alright, now let’s get to work.”  

I didn’t take long before the whole wall was covered in two coats of plain white, letting through no traces of the graffiti underneath.  The alleyway was spotless, with KO even finishing with the paint cans early and then using the time to collect the rest of the place’s usual debris.  It was at least an eventful start to a dull early morning shift, the three silently agreed.

--

The late shift, though, was another story.  Mr Gar had let his employees leave early to make up for coming back so late, and they were refreshed and ready for a Boxbot fight.

They took up a lookout position in a part of the fenced junkyard overlooking the alley, hiding behind a large pile of trash and robot parts.  Enid checked the time, quietly signalling to the other two to keep their eyes open, but three hours later even she was ready to call it a night.  Not even a tiny dinosaur had passed through the alley at all.

KO looked up at his friends and yawned.  “I think we should just go home.  I told Mommy we’d be out past my bedtime, but not this late…”

“You wanna take a nap, go ahead kiddo.  I’m about there too.”  Rad shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, not an easy feat in a pile of scrap metal.

“Guys, don’t stick me with lookout.”  Enid continued scrolling through her Social Media feed to keep awake, not even paying attention to her duties at all.

They heard a metallic thump, and Enid looked up from her phone. “Rad, was that you?”  She shook him awake when she got no response.

“It sounded like it was coming from the parking lot!”  KO whispered.  The three peeked out from behind their pile to see a hooded figure sneaking into view around the front of the plaza.  The intruder kept nervously looking around to make sure the alley was clear, before jogging back to the site of their previous mural.  The bodega employees couldn’t be sure in the dark, but it looked like the figure sighed as they laid a bright green backpack on the pavement and pulled back their hood.

The exposed brain case and large, single eye in the center of their forehead as they whipped their head around to do one last sweep of the area were unmistakable.

“Yep, that’s a Darrell.”  Rad pulled the other two back behind the pile.  “Ready to smash ‘im?”

“...You know what?  Hang on a sec.”  Enid grabbed Rad’s shoulder and held him in place.  “We’ve still got that white paint, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then…”  Enid let him go to peek at Darrell, squinting to see better in the dark.  “I say we just let him go.  I kinda wanna see what he does.”

KO peeked around the other side of the trash pile.  “But Enid,”  he whispered, “What about Mr Gar?  Darrell’s gonna mess up the wall again.”

“We’ll just repaint it once he’s done.”

“Oh…”  

Darrell dug in his backpack for a few moments, before finally pulling out the aerosol can he was looking for.  He popped the top off, just letting it clatter along the pavement, and shook the can vigorously before laying down the first marks of a new piece.

“Orange!”  KO excitedly whispered to the others.  “He’s using orange first!”

“Yeah.  Looks like he’s got a flame theme with this one,” Enid and KO both quietly got comfortable to watch the show.

Rad rolled his eyes.  “I guess I just don’t get it.”  He didn’t exactly stop watching Darrell work, though, from over KO’s shoulder.

The robot finished the base coat on the flames, and set the can down at his feet.  He dug in his bag again and pulled out a can of yellow, and then a can of red, using them to add variation to the flat orange.  With the flame background detailed, he placed the red can with the others and stepped back to take in his work.  Satisfied, he dug for yet another can, and started painting black vertical bars across the entire canvas.

“Aw, what’s he doing?”  KO pouted.  “He’s ruining it!”

Enid clapped her hand over her little friend’s mouth as his whispering got just a little too loud for comfort.  “Let’s just see where he’s going with this.”

As he started focusing on a portion of the canvas, though, Darrell suddenly started to act uneasy.  He whipped his head around again, scanning the alley for anyone watching his efforts.  The bodega trio ducked back behind their garbage pile just quick enough to avoid being spotted.  He stared towards the junkyard for more than a few seconds, before finally turning back towards the wall and continuing with the black paint.

“Phew…”  Enid held KO on her lap as Rad leaned back into the trash.  He didn’t do so as silently as he’d hoped, though, and a small piece of scrap metal above his head loosened and dropped, loudly skittering across the ground as all three looked on in horror.

In the alley, Darrell jumped at the noise, throwing his paint at a nearby trash can.  Like a startled rabbit, he bolted towards the parking lot, not even bothering to check what had made the sound.  As he turned the corner out of sight, the trio heard his rocket boots activate and fade into the distance in the direction of Boxmore.

Enid released a breath she’d been holding for what seemed like the entire night, relieved she could finally do so without watching her volume.  She and KO left their post to examine the fresh mural their archenemy had left behind, while Rad leaned against a clean wall nearby.

Between the black bars, Darrell had been painting a pair of hands gripping two of them when he was interrupted, one of which appeared to be melting and dripping down into the flames below.

“Huh.  He’s a tortured artist.  I like it.”  Enid pulled out her phone again to snap pictures, using the flash to illuminate the area.

Rad, however, started investigating a much more intriguing target.  “Hey, guys, look what he left for us!”  He picked up the paint-filled backpack and draped it over his shoulder.  He had forgotten to actually close it, though, and as he whipped it around about a dozen paint cans labelled in various colors fell out and scattered down the alley, which KO helpfully ran after.

“You guys, quit bein’ so loud!”  Enid couldn't help but laugh at her coworkers’ antics, though.  

“You’re one to talk, E.”  Rad set the bag down between his feet and opened it wide.  “Toss me one, KO!”

He did so, though his aim was a bit off.  Rad quickly grabbed the tossed can in midair using his telekinesis, guiding it home.  “Good shot, buddy!  Keep ‘em coming!”

While the boys repacked the backpack, Enid got to work preparing the rollers and paint tray.  It took just about as long as it had done earlier to apply the two coats and hide all evidence that anyone had vandalized the plaza once again.

“Just one thing left to do I guess.”  Enid motioned toward the backpack draped over Rad’s shoulder.  “Let’s toss that thing back across the street.”

Rad resisted.  “Actually, I got a better idea.  I’ll hang onto it for now.”  He put on the backpack a bit more properly, with both straps around his shoulders.

“What, you repainting your van with that stuff?”

“Naw, you’ll see.”  He smirked.  “Besides, maybe if Darrell doesn’t have this he won’t be able to come back tomorrow night.”

“I don’t think that’ll stop him.”  Enid sighed.  “We might want to keep an eye out for him tomorrow too.  Meet me here at midnight?”

KO and Rad agreed.  The latter checked his phone, and groaned.

“Speakin’ of my van, yeesh.  It is way too late.  I’ll drive us home.”

KO looked up at the moon, barely visible over the alley wall above them.  “Yeah…I definitely missed my bedtime.”

--

Darrell did return the next night, as the trio expected.  This time he carried a light blue backpack, with an ‘S’ and a few of what were either flowers or tiny sawblades embroidered along the top.  He was much more careful to make sure he was unwatched, however, to the point of even walking up to the junkyard fence to check behind the piles of trash.  

Luckily, the bodega employees had taken up a new lookout spot on the roof, just above the wall Darrell had taken to painting.  They peered down at him periodically as he worked, using the sound of his spray can to judge when it was safe to do so.

From that angle, it was difficult to miss the large crack in Darrell’s brain case.

“Hey, we blew him up today, right?”  Enid whispered.  KO nodded; this was definitely a different body than the one they’d chucked into the junkyard piece by piece earlier in the day.  

The robot started spraying again, so Enid leaned over the ledge, checking his progress.  So far, he had finished what looked like a portrait of himself, simplified of course, and with a sad expression on his face.  Darrell stepped back, though with his eye luckily focused forward, and she noticed he was mimicking the expression on his real face.  Then he looked down at his feet, searching for one of the colors he’d used previously, as Enid ducked back to safety.

“He’s getting a little more literal today,” she commentated to a curious KO.  He took the next turn to lean forward, with Rad tightly holding onto his hand just in case.

As KO was pulled back, he quietly reported the next developments.  “He started drawing...something around his head.”  He looked down.  “I couldn’t tell what it was yet.”

Enid scrolled through her phone.  “Rad, you’re up.”

The alien peeked down for a second, then quickly leaned back.  “He’s got teal.  I think he’s drawing my fist,” he whispered, making one to illustrate his statement.

“That’s...weird.  Is he drawing us fighting him?”

“I dunno, KO.”  Rad took another peek.  Looks like he’s got yours and I think Enid’s fists too.  And a bunch of others…

“Let me see.”  Enid set down her phone and took her turn once Darrell was distracted again below.  There were indeed a number of arms ending in fists aimed at the painted Darrell’s head -- she recognized Rad’s immediately, and KO’s with his armband, and one plain human one that had to be hers, but there were also a bright orange one, one with a red glove, a catlike yellow claw, a couple of purple ones, and a green one.  And a large open space at the very top, which she could barely examine before she needed to duck away as Darrell glanced up towards it.

The three stayed far from the edge for a while, just listening as he sprayed that final arm, which seemed to take longer than all the others.  Eventually, the sounds of the robot shaking cans and spraying paint gave way to some sniffling.  Then, the sound that they had been waiting for, as Darrell rustled through his backpack again, and all three leaned over the ledge to see the final result.

In that top spot was a bright yellow chicken claw, not just aiming at the painted Darrell but actually smashing right through his brain case, with bits of the green glass and even little fleshy chunks painted around the wound.  The robot’s eye had also been painted over with a large black X.  They momentarily glanced down at Darrell, who had stopped searching his bag and was wiping away a few tears.

The three ducked back, still silent.  Enid looked at the boys, with an expression of horror.

“Okay, he’s a really tortured artist.”

Rad nodded.  “This got dark.”

They were interrupted by Darrell shaking another can, this time much more vigorously.  Rad held out KO to watch as he began haphazardly painting what eventually turned into a crude depiction of Lord Boxman’s face, finishing with his bright red eye.  Darrell stood there holding the can of red for a moment, sadly looking at the second piece...and then angrily crossed it out.  And then again, and again -- he wildly swung the can around while spraying, as if to assault the image with the paint.  Eventually he threw the can itself at the image, and, still frustrated, even started kicking at the wall with his boot until he had finally vented all of his rage.  

He stepped back again, picked up the can of red, and quickly finished the piece by placing his tag in the corner, in red block letters:  “DB”.  He then unceremoniously kicked aside the cans he’d used, put on the backpack, and ran out of the alley, leaving the area empty for the bodega employees to descend.

Enid once again snapped plenty of pictures of the wall as KO and Rad picked up the scattered spray cans, though this time without a backpack to catch them in.  As the teens worked at covering the graffiti, Rad spoke up.

“Do you think this actually happened to him today?”

“Well…”  Enid compared the damage she had seen from above versus the damage in the painting.  “Maybe a super angsty emo-teen version of what happened to him today.  Guess things aren’t going so great at Boxmore right now.”  She looked down, and stopped.  “Wait, shoot…”

There were bright red footprints going down the alleyway a short distance, from the mural site to the sidewalk in front of the fitness dojo before they finally faded, likely from Darrell’s boots as he ran.  She remembered KO’s report of the robot kicking at the red paint and facepalmed.  

“Oh geez.  So much for cleaning up all the evidence he was here…”  She ran her finger over one of the tracks.  “It’s already dry.”

“Hang on, I think I know how to fix this!”  KO searched through the paint cans he’d collected and found the black one.  He slowly shook it as he’d seen Darrell do, then, holding it with both hands, pressed down on the top to spray a large black blob of paint onto the asphalt, covering the footprint fully.

Enid giggled, and patted him on the back.  “Vandalism is wrong, Brush Head.  But, good idea.”  She found him a lighter gray can for the sidewalk, and let KO cover the rest of Darrell’s tracks while she helped Rad finish on the wall.

--

Darrell’s subject matter wasn’t nearly as dark the next night, or the night after that.  They noticed from the roof that the crack in his head had been repaired, and he smiled and even hummed off-key as he worked, covering the wall in some more abstract, experimental images, like a door being shut in someone’s face with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on it, and a princess tiara being chewed on by a swarm of rats, and a few frogs jumping around in a puddle of oil. 

He seemed to be using the latter two to practice his shading, and even worked it into his “DB” tag, trying a gradient effect on the letters the fourth night, then a failed chrome effect the fifth night that he angrily painted over in plain red, and finally another attempt at the chrome on the sixth night that was a clear success. 

Of course, every night after he finished painting the wall, the trio painted over it once again, though not before Enid could take a photo.  She flipped through them at work on the seventh day since Mr Gar had tasked them with keeping the wall vandalism-free, until Red Action stopped her on one.

“Dude, this one’s sick!”  

“I know, right?  He’s actually getting really good.”  

“Man, it’ll really stink when you guys finally make him stop in the alley.”

Enid shook her head, trying to empty out the cobwebs and process what she had just heard.  “When...we make him stop?”

“Dude, you’ve been stayin’ up a whole week watching ‘im, right?  That can’t be good for ya.”  Red pointed out the dark bags under Enid’s eyes, and the fact that she’d dozed off at least twice since Red entered the bodega.

Enid recounted the number of graffiti murals she’d photographed.  There were seven, it had been an entire week.

No wonder she was so tired.

Enid yawned after being reminded of the fact, watching it spread throughout the store as KO and Rad both copied her.  

“We seriously have been up every night for an entire week, huh.”  She pressed at her forehead.  “Yeah, we gotta stop this.”

“I mean, it’s still cool and all, but whatever.”  Red scoffed.  “Probably for the best you just sleep and let ‘im go.  You gotta take care of yourself more.”

“What’s Mr Gar gonna think if we don’t cover it up every night, though?”  Enid shuddered.  

“Well, that’s why you gotta chase him away!”  Red unconsciously formed her hand into an arm cannon.  “Just blast ‘im a couple times, like you do when they bust over here during the day!”

Rad interrupted from aisle 2, “I can blast him tonight no problem!  Right in his robo-butt!”

Enid just shook her head, smiling.  “Rad, please think before you open your mouth for once…”  She finished ringing up Red Action’s order, waving her off as she left.  With the store now empty, Enid’s coworkers gathered around the counter.

“So, we’re really gonna stop Darrell tonight?”  KO yawned again.  

“Yeah, bud.  There’s no way we can keep this up.”

The other two were quiet, leaning against the counter to stay up.  Enid was so tired she didn’t even care they were touching her sacred space.

Suddenly Rad seemed to realize something.  “Hey, Enid, can I...try something tonight, when we see him in the alley?”

“Sure dude, what did you have in mind?”

“Remember when I took his backpack with all that paint, and I said I had a plan I was working on?”  

KO lit up.  “Oh yeah!  You were gonna repaint your van with that stuff!”  He laughed as Rad playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“No, squirt.  I was gonna do somethin’ cool for us, but it might work better to try it on him tonight.  You know, instead of just smashing his face.”  He looked uncharacteristically serious.  “The thing is, though...I gotta go get some stuff ready after we stop him.  So, can you and KO hold him there for a couple of minutes?”

Enid and KO looked at each other, and nodded.  

“Well, it sounds like we’ve got a plan,” Enid announced.  The three put out their fists, bumping them across the counter.  “See you guys tonight.”

--

For their final night of watching Darrell, the trio again hid in the junkyard, trusting that their target had relaxed enough to not look behind the trash piles again.  To their relief, he didn’t, and as he arrived Darrell simply set down his backpack and began rifling through it for the right color as usual.

“So, when he tries to run…”  Enid pointed towards the alley exit, on the parking lot side.  “Rad, you’ll catch him, then pass him off to us.  We’ll keep him here until you’re ready to go.”

Rad gave a thumbs-up, and readied himself alongside KO.  As Darrell finally selected his can and started shaking it, he loudly shouted, “Hey!”

Darrell turned around, his eye widening in shock at the sight of the alien jumping out from behind a trash pile and floating over the fence, the other two shrouded in a pink glow as he brought them along too.  He shrieked and bolted towards the parking lot, just as Enid had predicted, tossing the easily-dodged paint can in Rad’s direction.  Rad’s finger glowed as he quickly grabbed the robot’s legs with his telekinetic powers, then the rest of him, and yanked him back into the alley, where Enid and KO grabbed his arms and held him in place on the ground.

“You good?”

“Yeah, go for it!”  Enid adjusted her grip as Darrell struggled, and Rad sprinted away towards the loading dock.

“Stop it, Darrell!”  KO used a free hand to pat him on the head, to the robot’s confusion.  “We aren’t gonna fight you this time, okay?  Rad’s got a plan!”

“Oh, so what, you’re gonna turn me in or something?”  Darrell made another attempt to get free, but no success.

“No, you jerk.  We wanna talk.”  Enid paused, then experimentally loosened her grip to show she meant it.  “You cool with that, dude?”  

Darrell squinted.  “...Really?  Why?”

“Hang on, lemme show you something.”  She dug her phone out of her pocket.  “We’ve been staking you out here every night this week, to see what you paint.  And, I guess to cover it up too before Mr Gar sees.  But, we think it’s really cool, okay!”  She turned on the lock screen, showing the nuclear rat she still had on it.  “See?  I took pictures of all of them before we cleaned them up.”

Darrell looked up at the phone and, appropriately, made a tiny, scared squeak.  

“You’re...You’re gonna tell my dad I’ve been coming here, aren’t you?”  He stopped struggling, instead sitting up a bit and curling defensively into his cloak.  “That’s your plan, isn’t it?  Get me in trouble again, for sneaking out after curfew every night, with proof?”

“No, dude!”  She released her grip entirely, now that the robot was pacified.  “We’re saying we like your art!  Right KO?”

“Yeah!”   The boy giggled.  “I really liked the cowboy fighting that dragon, and that one with a lot of fire, and the snakes!  They were all really beautiful!”

Darrell paused, unsure how to even react.  “...R...Really?  You...thought they were...cool?”  He blushed, turning away from his archenemies.  “You guys thought...I was cool?”

“Eh, you’re still kind of a nerd.  But yeah, your art really is cool, Darrell.”  Enid unlocked her phone and flipped through the photos again as he watched.  “You’re getting really good.  Where did you even learn to tag like that?”

“Well, there’s this DJ on Social Media who posts a lot of tutorials.  I was just following those…”

“Nice.”  Enid flashed him a thumbs-up, but then landed on the painting of Darrell having his brain case punched in.  The robot shifted uncomfortably at seeing it again, averting his eye.  

“Is...there some bad blood going on between you and your dad right now, Darrell?”

He sunk into his cloak a little more, shrinking into the space between his captors.  “I don’t have blood,” the robot said matter-of-factly.  “But...I guess I was having a bad day.  You really saw that, huh?”

“Yep.  All of it.”  Enid shrugged.  “Sorry.”  She noticed Rad poking his head around the corner, beckoning them towards the back of the plaza.  “Hey, come on.  Rad’s got something for ya.”

“We don't know what it is,” KO added as he led the others, “but we know it’s not Lord Boxman!”

Darrell gave a small smile, and willingly followed the kid around the corner, gasping when he saw…

“My backpack!”  He dropped onto the ground and hugged it.  “I was looking everywhere for this thing!”

“That’s not the surprise, dude.  Look up.”  Rad stood proudly in front of three large shipping pallets, the kind the bodega received every day, all painted with the same white paint they had been using on the wall.  He had them leaned against the loading dock’s door, a ready canvas begging to be painted.

“Wait, these are...for me?”  Darrell stood, taking several seconds to process the situation.

“Look, buddy, graffiti-ing the plaza is...kind of illegal, but you weren’t really hurting anyone with it.  And this way you’re not actually painting anything on the plaza, and if Mr Gar doesn’t like it he can just toss ‘em and I’ll get you some new ones.”  Rad pointed to the pile of used pallets by the door.  “Seriously, we have so many…”

Darrell snapped out of his processing.  “So, I can come here at night...and tag these?  And you guys’ll let me?”  The bodega employees nodded.

He hugged his backpack tighter, not even bothering to hide the excitement on his face.  But then he thought for a moment, and set the bag down, pulling out a few random cans of paint.  

“Hey, um...If you guys want…”  He held one up towards KO.  “You wanna tag with me?  Just, like this once…”

KO happily took the paint.  “We’d love to, Darrell!”  He glanced at Enid and Rad, who just smiled and obliged, taking cans for themselves.  

The four each picked a portion of the canvas and got to work, not stopping until they started butting in on their neighbors’ art, and with the entirety of the three pallets covered they stepped back to admire the finished piece.  They could only laugh together at how much the art clashed, from Radicles’ rough depictions of muscled teal cats, to Darrell’s abstract gears and wires, to Enid’s ninja clan logos and a “DJ Fireball” tag, to KO’s very rough but lovingly-rendered painting of him and his friend Baby Teeth riding a unicorn to a hot dog stand (as he described it to his confused audience).  

Enid pulled out her phone to photograph the mural as this time Darrell scooped up the used cans into his reclaimed backpack, but as she was trying to get a clear shot Rad edged into the frame, standing in front of his section while contorting his face into the silliest possible expression.  KO almost immediately followed suit, ignoring Enid’s attempts to get the two to move.  Then Darrell backed into the frame as well, throwing an amazingly corny finger gun pose in front of his section, and Enid couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Rad?”

“On it.”  He used his power to hold the phone up and tap the selfie button as Enid took her place and ridiculous pose as well, and once everything was in place he snapped the picture.

“That was perfect!”  Darrell cried out, cracking up once again as he saw the final result.  He put on the backpack, then nervously tapped his fingers in front of him as he tried to think of what one was supposed to say to their mortal enemies after genuinely having fun together for over an hour.

“Th-Thanks for...all this.  Really.  I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow when I attack the plaza, I guess.  Bye!”  He smiled and waved as he ran around to the parking lot again, using his rocket boots to cross the street.

The others stayed for a bit, still admiring the graffiti, but then KO broke out into laughter once again.

“What’s so funny, kid?”  Rad giggled a little along with him.

“You guys...we just hung out and painted a picture and took a funny selfie with a Boxbot.  Friend-style!”

The other two sat up in shock.  

“We...we really did, huh Brush Head?”  Enid joined in, laughing alongside KO and Rad.

“Oh man, I kinda wish we could tell Lord Boxman without Darrell getting in trouble.  I just wanna see the look on his face!”

“Don’t worry Rad, I bet he’d just be like…”  Enid made a face somewhere between ‘seething rage’ and ‘just ate the sourest candy in the world’, to the others’ amusement.  

The two picked themselves up and piled into Rad’s van, ready to finally call it a night for good.

--

“KO, Rad, and Enid!!”  The three immediately snapped to attention in front of Mr Gar, but then looked on in pure terror as their enraged boss held up a blue embroidered backpack full of spray paint.

“Anyone care to tell me what this was doing in the alleyway this morning?”

“Oh.”

“Uh…”  Enid and Rad searched for a way to explain the night’s activities, but then KO spoke up.

“The graffiti wiener came back last night, sir.  But we scared him before he could paint in the alley!”  Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

Gar harrumphed before handing the bag to the child.  “Well, good job I guess.  Now go do something with this where I can’t see it.”  He stomped back into his office, grumbling something about having to throw away a bunch of shipping pallets as well.

The employees breathed a sigh of relief, returning to their daily bodega tasks.  As KO began to carry the heavy backpack into the break room, though, the Boxmore alarm blared.

“Cob, now?  Really?”  Enid pinched her septum and hopped over the counter.  She led the charge to meet the two large boxes crashing into the parking lot, which seemed to be...yelling at each other?

Darrell and Shannon both broke out, focusing more on each other than the plaza.

“Look, I know you took it, so just tell me where it is!”

“I told you like three times Mushroom-Head, I don’t know where you left it!”

“You’re seriously still saying I lost my-!”  She looked at KO, still holding the backpack, and pounced, ripping it out of the child’s hands.  “My backpack!  What the heck are you losers doing with it?!”

KO glanced over her shoulder at Darrell, now very anxious that he’d been caught in his lies, and winked.  Darrell tried to wink back in return, but it ended up as more of a regular blink.

“We stole it!  And filled it with trash!”  KO claimed, as Shannon opened it to reveal the spray cans.  She tossed the bag aside in her confusion, and whipped out a sawblade right into his face.

“How dare you, you little…”

Rad yawned as he lifted her away with his telekinesis, throwing her right into the path of one of Enid’s fireballs, which in turn redirected the robot less-than-gracefully into the pavement.  With a final power punch from KO, Shannon was down for the count.

The three turned then to Darrell, who drew out his arm cannon but otherwise paused before his attack.  

“Hey, guys, um...I’ve gotta fight you right now, but...is it cool if we hang out again tonight?”  He shrugged.  “It was really fun.”

“Honestly that sounds awesome, bro, but…”  Rad motioned for Enid to continue as he dropkicked Shannon’s backpack over to Boxmore, for her to pick up once she rebooted.

Enid rubbed her eyes, still with dark circles under them.  “We have a lot of sleep to catch up on, dude.  Maybe next week?”  

Darrell gave her a thumbs-up in response, then powered up his cannon and charged into battle.

[zfiledh]

Gnome Bites

AO3 | (chilibreath) FF.net | LJ

Note: Written for Week 2 of @forduary (Science/Weirdness). The Gnome Ford (Crack) AU belongs to @a-million-chromatic-dreams . Let’s just say she got something right about the Journal through their AU (check Alex Hirsch’s twitter).

It started with a raid in the kitchen…

It was Fiddleford’s first week in Gravity Falls. He walked into the kitchen one morning and nearly dropped his papers at the sight he beheld.

It was complete chaos. The kitchen was in shambles as Stanford ran around the place chasing what looked like miniature Santa Clauses in blue overalls and red pointy hats. Fiddleford stared open-mouthed as Stanford grabbed a small Santa and tossed him out the open window.

“Fidds, block the doorway and make sure none of them pass through!” Ford yelled as he grabbed a bag of jellybeans with another Santa hanging off it. “Be careful, they bite!” he added as he started pulling the little man off the bag.

“Okay, Ford—AAAAAH!” Fidds yelled as one little man scampered towards him and hissed. He finally dropped his papers, grabbed a nearby mop and started swinging. He felt the end of the mop hit something and heard a high-pitched yowl. A window broke as Fidds’ target went flying out of it.

“Good job, buddy!” said Ford breathlessly, the jellybean bag still stuck on a determined, snarling Santa. “Only one more to—YEOWWWCH!!”

Fidds gasped; the small man scrabbled over the jellybean bag and bit Ford’s arm. Enraged, Ford yanked the gnome off him and tossed him out the window. A string of high-pitched cuss words floated through the window.

“Sweet sarsaparilla, that looks nasty!” Fidds cringed as he looked at the bite mark. “Looks like it drew blood. We gotta take you to a hospital and get that checked out!”

Ford waved away his friend’s concern and walked to the sink. “Driving to the hospital will take precious time away from the project,” he said gruffly as he placed his arm under running water. “This isn’t so bad. Just need some iodine and a bandage, that’s all!”

Fidds shook his head as he went to get the First Aid kit. His friend had warned him over the phone that this part of the United States has the highest concentration of weirdness, which he studied since they graduated from Backupsmore, but it was another thing to see it raid your kitchen.

“So, what were those little doodads that tried to make off with your jellybean stash?” Fidds asked as he set the First Aid kit down on the table.

Ford shook his head as he sat down. “They’re gnomes,” he explained as he held out his arm for treatment. “The little men of the forest. They keep raiding my pantry every other week. They’re not dangerous, just annoying. I mean, they once tried to kidnap me in my sleep to offer me to their Queen.”

“Ya don’t say?” murmured Fidds as he applied antiseptic on the bite mark. Judging from their size, it must have taken an army of them to carry his friend out of the house. “How’d you get away?”

Ford snorted. “Easy; I drop-kicked them and got the hell out of there.” He looked down at the dressed wound and smiled. “Thanks Fidds!”

“No problem,” replied the lanky man as he started cleaning up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get that treated by professionals? The thing that bit ya looked rabid to me…”

“Nonsense!” Ford scoffed. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen from a gnome bite?”

xxx

The next day…

Fiddleford walked into the kitchen, yawning. This was the fifth time he was preparing breakfast, and he wondered if he was hired to be Ford’s research assistant or the man’s nanny.

He was reaching for the kettle when he heard the rustle.

Fidds turned around, scanning the kitchen nervously. He frowned and grabbed the broom leaning on the wall nearby.

“I can’t believe they came back!” he thought as he walked stealthily around the kitchen. In the periphery of his vision, he spotted a flash of yellow.

WHACK!

“Gotcha!” Fidds yelled in triumph as his target rolled across the floor and hit the wall.

“Ooowww…”

Fidds blinked and lowered the broom; the voice sounds familiar. He approached the tiny figure as it rolled over and sat up, looking dazed.

“Stanford?” Fidds gasped, dropping the broom.

Fidds shook his head and leaned down for a closer look. It is Stanford: his friend and employer had shrunk to the size of the rabid Santa Clauses. Owing to his new size, Ford now wore his mustard-colored shirt like an oversized robe and his glasses were sitting lopsided on his nose.

Ford looked up at Fidds. The two men stared at each other for a moment before the gnome-sized one coughed.

“It seems gnome-bites have an unusual side-effect,” Ford said conversationally.

“Ya don’t say?” Fidds replied drily.

xxx

A couple of weeks later…

Stanley Pines trudged through the snow, the bitter cold seeping through his old jacket as he made his way to the cabin. Just his luck, he had to arrive in Oregon when a blizzard decides to hit.

He stopped in front of the porch steps, looking grimly up at the cabin. Why his brother decided to move here in the middle of nowhere, he’ll never know. He walked up the stairs and headed for the door. He raised a gloved hand to knock on the door, then paused to compose himself.

“You haven't seen your brother in over ten years,” Stan breathed. “It's okay; he's family! He won't bite.”

He knocked on the door. After a few moments, it opened on its own. Stan peered through the door and spotted a very cluttered space beyond.

“Uh, hello?” Stan called out, puzzled. “What is this, haunted?”

“Down here.”

Stan gave a start and looked down. His first impression was that of a small, rotund toddler wearing blue pants and a red sweater. Then he blinked and realized that the stern face—the head—was that of his brother’s.

“Stanford?!”

The tiny man in front of him nodded, rearranging the glasses that were too large for his face.

“Hi Stanley,” Ford said, sounding tense. “Please, keep it down! You might disturb—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!”

Stan’s scream was powerful enough to shake the snow off the roof of the cabin. Ford winced as another man appeared right behind him, holding up a banjo like a club.

“What’s going on?!” Fidds cried, staring at Stan nervously from the doorway. On his part, Stan started backing away from the slender, blond man who looked ready to brain him with a musical instrument.

“Fidds, put that down!” Ford snapped, tugging at his friend’s pants. “This is my brother, Stanley. Stanley, this my friend and associate, Fiddleford McGucket.”

Fidds started to lower his banjo and stick out his hand. “Howdy!” Fidds said nervously. “I should have known; ya look just like yer brother before he shrank down!”

Ford rolled his eyes and beckoned to his brother. “Come in, come in!” he said, turning to toddle into the living room. Stan hefted the duffel bag over his shoulder and followed his shrunken brother into the house.

“Are you gonna explain what’s goin’ on here?” Stan asked. “The last time I saw you, we were the same height!”

Ford sighed as he walked towards a chair. He had to step over piles of books that were arranged into a makeshift set of stairs. “It’s a long story…” he began to say.

Stan sat in a nearby chair and listened to his brother’s story. How he was studying anomalies in Gravity Falls and decided to invite Fiddleford here to help him with a complicated project. This project never came to fruition after Ford was bitten by a possibly rabid gnome and turned into one practically overnight.

“We’ve been lookin’ for a cure ever since,” Fidds added as Ford concluded his story. The two scientists looked at Stan, gauging his reaction.

Stan stared back. He took off his beanie and sighed.

“Ya couldn’t have made your story SHORT?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, well, I guess I could have...” Ford began to say, then stopped and gave his brother a look. “Did you just…”

Stan blinked and looked owlishly at his twin. “What? Look, I came all this way from New Mexico after my LITTLE brother sent me a postcard and…”

Fiddleford decided to listen to the brothers’ conversation from the safety of the kitchen.

“Stan, if you don’t quit it, I will kick your ass,” Ford growled.

“Need a ladder?” Stan asked politely.

“Don’t patronize me!”

“So it’s true: short people do have short tempers.”

Fidds then heard sounds of a scuffle. Fearing the worst, he ran out of the kitchen and saw Stan holding Ford up by the scruff of his sweater. There was a fond look on Stan’s face while Ford was muttering obscenities.

“That’s enough you two,” Fiddleford said, taking Ford out of Stan’s hand and settling him back on his chair. “Ya need more cushions, Ford?”

Ford crossed his stubby arms and grouchily muttered, “No.”

To Stan, Fidds gestured to the chair he vacated. “If you could take a seat, Stan, and refrain from making short jokes, we’ve got a request to ask of you.”

After Fidds finished talking, Stan snorted.

“Lemme get this straight: you want ME to go out into the world pretending to be my nerdy brother?” he asked incredulously. “NO WAY! It’s not gonna work!”

“Why not?” asked Fidds.

“Gee, where do I start?” Stan asked sarcastically. “For starters, I don’t sound like him…”

“Stan, it would just be like when we were kids!” said Ford. “Remember when we pranked Crampelter back in middle school? He ended up having detention because of us!”

Stan snorted. “I don’t have that chin-thing you’ve got…”

“Nothin’ a little make-up magic can’t fix!” Fidds interjected. At an odd look from the brothers, Fidds looked defensive and added, “What? It can’t be that different from paintin’ deathbots!”

“And let’s not forget the most important difference,” said Stan, taking off his glove and wiggling his fingers in the air.

“You can borrow my gloves and stuff the extra digits with cotton,” countered Ford.

“No, this is not gonna work,” Stan muttered, shaking his head. He looked at his brother in the eye and said wearily: “You finally want to see me after ten years, and it’s to tell me to go out there and pretend to be you while you and skinny over here try to find a cure?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Stanley, you don’t know what I’ve been through…”

“No, no…you don’t understand what I’ve been through!” Stan growled. “I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems? I've got a mullet, Stanford! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

Ford jumped up to stand on his chair. “I’m selfish, Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school!? I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won’t even listen!”

“CUT THAT OUT YOU TWO!”

The two Stans gave a start and stared at Fiddleford, who had jumped to his feet and scowled at them.

“This darn tootin’ bad blood has gone on far enough, I reckon,” Fidds grumbled, spitting into a nearby spittoon (Ford cringed). “Fortunately for you fellers, I come from a big family, and we have a tried and tested method for airin’ out our grievances. First things first, we’re all marchin’ into the kitchen to eat somethin’ and to give Stan a chance to rest up a bit, then we reconvene back here. We are not leaving this house until this is resolved. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?”

The other two men nodded as they allowed Fidds to herd them to the kitchen.

xxx

2012

“…and that’s how Fiddleford mended our relationship,” Stan concluded. He had taken off his six-fingered glove and was wringing it in his five-fingered hands throughout the telling of the story.

“It took us hours, but we managed to get there,” Fidds said, shaking his graying blond head.

Sitting between his friend and twin, Ford looked at their audience. Dipper, Mabel and Soos the handyman-slash-spare Mr. Mystery stared at them in varying degrees of awe.

“And all this time, Grunkle Stan has been pretending to be Stanford while the real Stanford has been hiding under the Mystery Shack-slash-Institute of Oddology looking for an anti-gnoming serum,” Dipper murmured. He looked at the three elderly men in front of him and sighed. “I’m so sorry for doubting you guys.”

Stan shrugged. “It’s okay, Dipper,” he said gruffly, smiling at them. “I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

“This is nothing like my fanfic, but I’m not mad!” Soos declared, wiping the corner of his eye. “This is so much more EPIC!”

“I have a question,” piped up Mabel. She raised Journal 3 in the air and pointed to a page entitled “My Muse”; the title was crossed out and replaced with a red-inked “LIAR”. “What’s this Muse thing all about?”

Ford peered at the page, then groaned. “Ugh, that’s another long story…”

“Want to make it SHORT, Sixer?” asked Stan, wagging his eyebrows.

Ford glared at his brother before clearing his throat. “That…well, that nearly became the biggest regret of my life and also the reason the Institute of Oddology exists. I had hit a road block in my investigation of Gravity Falls…”

And Ford recounted how he had summoned Bill Cipher, who he initially thought was his friend and Muse. The triangular being managed to convince Ford that the path to greatness lies in building a Portal.

“As y’all know, that’s when he called me in,” Fidds interjected. “But before we could test it, Ford got bitten and turned into a gnome.”

Ford nodded. “Weirdly enough, this turned out to be a good thing. We stopped working on it to try and find a cure for what I have. It wasn’t until Stan got here that we realized that Bill was playing me for a fool.”

“A conman always knows,” said Stan, tapping the side of his head.

“He wanted us to build the Portal to connect his world with ours, which could have been catastrophic!” said Ford, shuddering at what could have been. “Once we realized what we were dealing with, we shut the Portal down until we were able to protect the cabin with unicorn hair and build the Dimensional Vortex Neutralizer.”

“That is so cool,” Dipper whispered. He looked at his newly-discovered Grunkle and pulled out a pen. “Grunkle Ford, can I ask you a billion questions about Gra—”

“All right kids, it’s getting late,” Stan intervened, standing up. He snapped on his six-fingered gloves and herded the three of them towards the elevator. “You can interrogate Ford tomorrow.”

“But…”

“Go to bed!” Stan gritted out, pushing them towards the elevator.

“I’m not going to bed!” Mabel shouted. “I’m knitting MORE sweaters for my new Grunkle!”

“And I gotta call Wendy!” Soos declared.

Back inside the secret lab, Ford and Fidds looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Do you have any regrets for agreeing to come out here, Fidds?” Ford asked.

Fiddleford shook his head and smiled.