#more people in their universe should be doing this

[fdelopera]

Hamasniks are on track to become the next Jonestown

I've decided that I'm going to use a different strategy when I engage with Hamasniks.

I used to try to get them to feel empathy for Jews, thinking that maybe an experience of empathy for us would get them to wake up and realize that they are being Jew-hating bigots.

Maybe I could get them to feel some remorse for attacking Jews if I could get them to see that they are engaging in the same violent, depraved behavior that the Nazis engaged in during the 1930s, leading up to the Holocaust.

Maybe I could appeal to them using Rabbi Hillel's "golden rule": "What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah. Now go and study."

But I now know that these approaches were futile.

Why?

Because Hamasniks are in a cult.

The strategies I was using were all rational approaches, and Hamasniks are not behaving rationally.

They are in a cult that has compromised their empathy, which is a well-understood aspect of cult mind-control. And instead of feeling remorse for attacking us, these Hamasniks actually revel in harming Jews.

I started to realize this when I rewatched some documentaries about The Peoples Temple (aka Jonestown) and the Manson Family.

Imagine if Jim Jones and Charlie Manson were here today and had Instagram and TikTok, and you'll understand the scope of the cult that the Hamasnkis are part of.

Jonestown Massacre, explained

Jonestown Documentary

Manson Family Interviews

Manson Family Singing

Hamasniks are speedrunning both of these cults. And they are getting to the point where they will start being used as "sacrifices for the cause."

Aaron Bushnell was just a glimpse of what is yet to come for many of them.

So now, I am changing tactics.

I will no longer appeal to Hamasniks' empathy, because they have none. It has been beaten out of them.

Instead, I will give them a warning:

You are in a cult.

You may not fully realize this, which makes this cult especially dangerous for you.

The people running your cult are being very careful to "boil the frog" very slowly with you.

They started by teaching you some slogans to chant, and giving you some signs to carry.

They lovebombed you hard, and it felt wonderful to be part of a social group, especially after the extreme loneliness and isolation of Covid.

You didn't really understand what the "Pro-Palestine" movement was about at first, but you were just happy to be part of something larger than yourself.

Then Hamas carried out the October 7th terrorist attack, and within 24 hours, your cult leaders got you to chant their "Free Palestine" slogans in the streets, and they got you to harass Jews online.

You were told to tell Jews things like "Die Zio Scum" and "Hitler should have killed more of you rats."

You were told, "It's okay to attack these people, these people are Zionists, and Zionists are basically Nazis."

You were so lovebombed at this point that you didn't care that calling a Jew a "Nazi" is one of the worst things you can say to us. You showed your friends the hateful messages you were typing out, and you all giggled together at how much you were hurting these Jews.

Then your cult leaders got you to go out in the street and vandalize random Synagogues and Jewish businesses. They told you these were part of the "Zionist entity" that you were all trying to take down.

And sure, Jews were being attacked and murdered in the streets and in their homes all over the world, but you convinced yourself that their lives don't matter.

After all, your cult leaders told you that once Palestine is "free," every societal ill will somehow be "corrected."

And so, maybe you felt a little weird about spraypainting Nazi Swastikas on Synagogues, and maybe you felt a little guilty about smashing the windows of Jewish-owned businesses, but you did it anyway "for the cause."

Then your cult leaders got some of you to partake in University encampments, where they could indoctrinate you further. They controlled your food and water, and they deprived you of sleep. Those are some of the most well-understood methods of cult mind-control.

Then your cult leaders got you to take to the streets and harass and attack Jews in public places. Now you're no longer just spraypainting Nazi Swastikas on Synagogues or smashing up Jewish businesses, now you're are physically attacking Jews on the street.

That's all well and good, you might think.

You think you're just having some fun attacking Jews and larping as terrorists. You think this is just an opportunity to get some anger out.

But actually, that's not what is happening.

You see, this is not about you.

Your sense of "Main Character Syndrome" has blinded you to the obvious reality.

You are being primed to "give your life for the cause."

That is Hamas' entire strategy.

I suggest you get out of this cult while you still can.

The Islamists running your cult are warming you up for the final act.

Don't just take it from me. Learn about cults. They always end in bloodshed - and that blood is YOURS.

Don't believe me? Learn about Jonestown. Learn about the Manson Family. That is where you are headed.

You love to chant "Long Live the Intifada." Well, you should EDUCATE YOURSELVES about the Second Intifada.

You should EDUCATE YOURSELVES about what YOU will be forced to do in the Intifada that you are chanting for.

Hamas terrorists strapped bombs onto people and sent them into crowded areas to BLOW THEMSELVES UP in order to kill Jews.

And if you are not careful, that will be you.

That's where all this is headed.

Time to wake up, babes! You're in a cult.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[doctorhomo]

OKAY OKAY. OKAY.

OKAY.

IM GONNA LIST THEORIES/THINGS I THINK

the constant mentions of susan returning and the red herring of susan triad is not just a red herring. it would be weird to have her brought up that much and not actually do anything. sutekh was luring the doctor in - why? and what’s his leverage? why lure him in with promises of his granddaughter unless he actually has susan? what if susan is his leverage over the doctor? sutekh gains control of the universe or susan dies

the toymaker, maestro, the mara and the trickster were all mentioned - but only the trickster hasnt showed up recently, in the main show or in extras. toymaker in the giggle, maestro in TDC, the mara in the S20 minisode - why mention the trickster at all if he’s not relevant? ruby’s “mother” is the trickster. it wasnt pointing at the doctor, but rather at the tardis - or sutekh. the trickster is bending reality by sutekh’s side, bc i dont remember sutekh being too fussed about bending reality, whereas it was the tricksters whole thing in sja

whenever the trickster pulls someone from reality in sja, they were in an entirely white void. whenever something significant/emotional happens to ruby, it snows.

sutekh’s last minions were just robots dressed as mummies - not humans slotting themselves into peoples lives, and certainly not children (henry arbinger). but the trickster did use a child to his advantage in TToSJS

susan triad said she gets her ideas from her dreams - what should we expect to see from her? self driving ambulances? bubbles? space stations?

we saw both susan and harriet turn into the creepy skeleton minions after sutekh revealed himself, but not mrs flood, who clearly also works for sutekh. is she the trickster? is she ruby’s “mum’”? she’s been planted there for sutekh’s plan, but she’s clearly more important than h arbinger and s triad

i feel like it was glossed over far too quickly that carla was like “that’s the beast!” ?????? excuse me ma’am??????? not one single person acknowledged that and i feel INSANE

why was susan triad appearing in all those episodes?? was it just sutekh trying to taunt the doctor?? i think she was under something like a chameleon arch, and she’d have sworn she was human until her dying breath. she feels more like a sleeper agent than an undercover one

in conclusion (for now) i feel absolutely insane. i have been vibrating all day and i dont think i breathed during that episode. im going to sleep for 46 hours and hopefully ill wake up normal

[iamespecter]

I know you probably gave up on the Glamrock Chica AU as Gregory's guardian, but I personally think you should continue. Many people prefer to do it with Roxy or Monty, and there are very few with Chica as the guardian. I think this AU of yours has the potential to be very good.

sigh.... I still love Glamrock Chica...

but I feel like the whole universe is against me at this point for being a Chica fan and I just know that either 1.) no one's gonna pay attention to a Chica-based AU, or 2.) just shit on it because it doesn't match the popular headcanons.

So unfortunately, My Guardian Chica AU is cancelled.

If you would like to know the rough concept of it that I've written down because you're curious, then click "keep reading" to read below the cut.

The Guardian Chica AU is actually a simple morality test.

Beginning:

It starts off with the normal SB route: Freddy is the child's starting guardian, and he is helping the child escape. Chica is under Vanny's control, and is actively fighting against this, but is too powerless to break free from the virus' hold.

... Until Fazer Blast. Freddy and the kid find themselves on the catwalks, where a glitching Chica with an axe has them cornered. Freddy, not knowing how to end this peacefully, decides to bring Chica down with him while removing the chip that's causing her to be controlled in the first place.

Chica then wakes up, and Freddy is HEAVILY damaged because he (mostly) cushioned her fall. Chica, still not fully herself, hallucinates Freddy as Vanny; and she begins tearing him apart out of frustration and fear, ripping his head off because she wanted to see who was underneath the Vanny mask.

THIS is where the story begins. You take control of Chica (instead of a kid protagonist), where Chica must ensure the child's survival, and get them out in time for 6 AM. But there is a catch.

The more you use brute force, the more Chica's morality goes south. And you'll always have two choices, either which you:

Kill the Day and Nightcare Attendants to gain access to the Daycare, or use their environmental weaknesses (the light, and the darkness) to refrain them from catching the kid.

Eliminate the PARTY PASS BOTS to get into a venue much easier, or find PARTY PASSES, while avoiding the kid's hunters.

Destroy SECURITY BOTs to lessen chances of the kid getting spotted, or use the BOTs' blind spots strategically to prevent them from alerting anyone.

Refrain from attacking Roxanne Wolf and let her take one of the chicken's eyes, or defend yourself and damage Roxanne Wolf enough to send her running back.

You will then encounter Montgomery Gator, who is now guarding Gator Golf with an iron fist. Monty will taunt Chica for the remainder of the boss fight:

either telling her how WEAK and COWARDLY she is because she isn't fighting back (Peaceful route);

being confused about her methods because it feels like she's constantly changing her mind (neutral route);

or praising her for finally, FINALLY using her features for something "worthwhile" (morally numb route).

But regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will end up revealing a morbid truth as yet another taunt: that he killed Bonnie, because he wanted his spot in the band. And that he'd kill Bonnie over and over again, if it meant he would remain popular. That now Freddy has been reduced to nothing but a head, HE'LL be the number ONE.

And regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will ALWAYS end up dead.

and depending on how much you've been using brute force, Freddy's head will either:

Be BEYOND mortified by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, but believes she can still refrain from doing this in the future (peaceful route)

is taken aback by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and is starting to doubt Chica's capacity of ensuring the kid's safety (neutral route)

Gets angry at Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and refrains from speaking to her. (morally numb route)

Roxanne Wolf is then up next, and depending on how you reacted to earlier choices, you can either:

Convince Roxanne that she doesn't have to do this, that she doesn't have to keep living under Vanny's shadow out of fear and don't strike her (peaceful, only possible if you let Roxanne take Chica's eyes)

Fight and defeat Roxanne but spare her, making her go rogue and not choosing any side between Vanny or Chica (neutral)

Kill Roxanne emotionally and physically, taking her eyes as revenge (morally numb, only possible if you defend yourself)

ENDINGS/POSSIBLE ROUTES

The "MORALLY NUMB" ending (bad):

You chose the easier path and ignored Freddy’s plea, let Chica kill Security Bots to keep the kid safer in the plex, kill Roxy as well out of pure anger for taking out her eye, and take her upgrades for yourself.

Freddy begins to be distrustful of Chica, and soon even resent her and her actions at the end.

This leads to Vanny getting killed, but not without consequence.

Freddy will ask Chica to leave him behind instead of following her any longer. He can’t bear to see the monster that has become of his friend, and Chica will comply with his request, leaving Chica numb.

Chica’s objective becomes less and less of keeping the kid safe, and more of the desire to get revenge after what happened to her and Bonnie.

Semi-open ending.

"You were no better than them. Better to leave me here to rot, than to accompany you on your bloodlust." - Freddy

The "GUITAR HERO" ending (neutral):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted until a new "Vanny" shows up.

Chica DOES NOT manage to get Roxy in your side, and Roxy will act rogue, picking no sides this time.

The Pizzaplex does not burn down. Instead, Monty, Chica and Freddy are replaced by Mr. Hippo, Happy Frog, and Nedd Bear.

Chica, Freddy and the kid runs away from the plex to live on their own, but still end up dying via energy depletion.

"You promised to stay with me... why did you lie instead?" - the kid

The "SUPER POPSTAR" ending (good):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Uncover the shady past of Fazbear Entertainment, uploading their dirty secrets onto the internet, shutting them off for good. (this guarantees this ending)

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted for good this time, no Vanny comes replacing the old one.

Chica progressively gets more and more damaged as time goes on.

Chica manages to get Roxy on your side.

The Pizzaplex burns down.

Chica deactivates amidst the flames, with Freddy by her side at the very, very end.

The route ends with Roxy and the kid finding Chica’s body after the fire, and she takes her head along with Freddy’s.

The most ambiguous ending out of the three.

"Don't blame yourself kid. It's not what they would've wanted you to think. Not what she would want you to think. (...) We'll find a way. That's a promise." - Roxy

....Yeah, the Guardian Chica AU has no happily-ever-after ending. Sorry.

[brutalisttarot]

Pick An Image: What can you do to improve your appearance?

Pile 1

There’s a form of communication you wish to convey to people in general through your appearance. Going more rogue, masculine think of American style, darker eyes or keeping your beard if you’re a dude. A sign is given to me that you should explore with your face, I’m getting sfx makeup, eyelashes, clown/futuristic yet sinister looks. It’s finding that one shock factor.

Pile 2

You should experiment with your highs and lows, which means depth of colour, such as darker shades to lighter shades, explore the extremities, the universe wants you to be experimental with turning it up. I see you guys are trying to speak using your appearance as a form of power, find an accessory that helps you convert that, it can be worn on the hands, or you can hold it, that’s a form of edge to it. Prosthetics is also something prominent in the cards of course if accessible, and sportswear. Your appearance is also a great point for visually teaching individuals, you can imitate or be inspired by subcultures you’re really into etc, I’m getting face tattoos, slashed eyebrows, looking like someone from the past/television.

Pile 3

Can I just say, OMG! You guys are encouraged to looked b17chy if you get what I mean, looking like a heartbreaker, go all out materialistic, filled with wealth looking. Loud shiny dresses, or even old money aesthetic pieces work too, quiet luxury. Final message is, the universe encourages you to pay no attention to what people say about you, and even if they are worried about you, you should remain ignorant about their comments regarding your appearance.

I do exchange tarot readings for free and paid ones at negotiable prices! Thanks for the support xx

[swordlux]

Xiao's Lust | Xiao x Female Reader 18+

Xiao's had about enough. He wants you. Now.

Warnings: smut, explicit content, please be 18+ to read.

***

He kissed you. His grip on your thigh told you how much he’d been wanting you, how much he’d been holding himself back. Up until now every kiss of yours had brought him pain. Every kiss of yours unveiled a layer of desire so deep, his centuries of existence felt infinitesimal in comparison. All these sides of himself he’d ignored for so long. You made him remember them all. You made him realize a love within himself that was larger than the universe...

*** Xiao's Longing

Xiao was feeling… restless.

He’d told himself time and time again, that he wasn’t into that human stuff. Emotions like desire, and lust didn’t plague him.

But he had this crazy urge to pin you to the floor and devour you like the sweet treat you were.

Ugh. Such thoughts of you lying underneath him were harassing his day. The more they hounded him, the more he wanted to take it out on you for making him have these thoughts. The next time he saw you, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Plus, you were such a tease. It was almost like you didn’t realize he was still a man underneath all that Yaksha. Sure, he did a good job of putting up a front, but still…

“Xiao…”

There you were again.

He had gone out for a walk to clear his head and happened to run into you, the very reason he needed to clear his head in the first place. He supposed it was his fault for choosing the streets of Liyue Harbor to settle his thoughts, but he had the feeling he would’ve run into you no matter where he went. You were looking so good, and so oblivious too, which made it worse. Why was he the only one standing here burning up like a forest fire, while you looked so happy-go-lucky as usual? He wanted to rip you away from this crowd and take you right—

Xiao’s gloved hand clenched upon his arm.

“Did you hear what I said, Xiao?”

Oh, it seemed you were talking to him.

“Why do you make me feel this way?” he said, doing his best to speak through gritted teeth. “It’s so—frustrating.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said, relaxing to the moment at last. “What is it?”

“Oh, uhm.. Childe and Zhongli invited us to their place for dinner tonight. Did you want to go..?” A blush had come to your cheeks. It was starting to dawn on you the hidden implications behind Xiao’s random outburst.

Xiao decided to take advantage of the moment and the way he was feeling. “Again? There’s always something. It’s like these people never run out of invitations. When will I get some alone time with you?”

Right. That’s all Xiao really wanted. The reason behind his frustration. Ever since you’d proclaimed your feelings for each other—no—ever since you’ve known each other practically, you’ve always been caught up in something. Always helping someone out or going to the next event. He loved that about you, your social nature (though he didn’t understand it himself) was something he’d come to appreciate. But it was dawning on him now, never had he had any real, honest alone time with you.

No wonder he was going crazy.

“I want you. Tonight. Let me take you out, properly. I mean… I am your man, I should have priority.” He grabbed onto your arm as he said it. The little action was the most he could do to restrain all these feelings he was holding back.

“Oh, of course…” you were surprised by Xiao’s sudden show of dominance. Little to say it thrilled you. Despite his restraint, you could feel his frustration in his grip.

You never had anything against spending alone time with Xiao, of course, it’s just he’d never shown any interest. But this, this was new…

“Good,” he said. “Be ready. I’ll pick you up at 7. Dress nice. Or however you do.”

***

You loved the vigilant Yakhsa. That much was sure. And he loved you. The connection you experienced was unlike any other. It went deeper than the roots of Teyvat. It transcended all dimensions, all layers of time, all experiences. Your love was a truth that would stand, even if everything around you shattered into illusion.

But there was one thing you were always not so sure about…

“Yakshas. I mean, he’s basically like a god, right? Do they..? Do they have the same pleasures that humans do? I’m not sure. It feels like..”

You were talking with your friend Beidou.The pirate had docked for lunch and you called her over for an emergency meeting before your date with Xiao. As you played over the situation in your head your cheeks flushed, and you rambled on.

The reliable pirate put her steady hands on your shoulders. “Slow down,” she said. “What you’re telling me is that you haven’t done the deed yet? And how long have you been dating now?”

You explained the situation, including how Xiao was acting today.

Beidou let out a boisterous laugh. “Haha! Sounds like he has the hots for sure. So? Are you ready for it?”

“I don’t know… I thought I was, but facing the reality of it... I’m terrified! I feel like a schoolgirl about to lose her virginity!”

She laughed again. “Well let me know how it goes. Even I’m curious to know what’s up with those adepti. That would be an interesting tale to tell at sea for sure.”

Ignoring that, you said goodbye to your friend and proceeded to head back to your lodgings to get ready, your confusion still rumbling in your head. If it were anyone else, any other man, you’d know for sure his words came with the usual implications. But this was Xiao, did he even…

I want you. Tonight.

Did that mean…? Did he mean..?”

No. You couldn’t imagine it. You had, of course, on many occasions, but you couldn’t actually picture the vigilant Yaksha giving into his desires. I mean, he was so… vigilant. You could totally picture him coldly saying, “We don’t need to do that,” not realizing how he would actually hurt you in the process. That was why you’d never made the first move yourself. That type of rejection from Xiao would rip you in two.

Xiao was never intentionally mean or cold, as you learned the more you got to know him, that was just his way of putting up boundaries that no one could cross, so he wouldn’t face the guilt of having something he didn’t believe he deserved. It was different with you. Slowly but surely he was letting you in. But still, there were still some topics you were afraid to touch.

But then… why did he sound so serious when he said it? And why did he look so… frustrated? As if he was holding himself back from doing some very dangerous things. You’d have to find out when the Yaksha came to pick you up for your very overdue alone time.

***

It was getting worse. With the confirmed date, Xiao was about ready to explode.

Why did he settle on a time? He wanted you this instant. He should’ve just pulled you aside and—

Enough. He had to get serious about this. He wanted to take you out properly like you deserved. But what could he plan at such a last minute? He was never good at this sort of stuff. You were always the one surprising him. Not to mention, he would have to pick someplace where the two of you wouldn’t be bothered. If you went to any of the nice, expected places, you were sure to run into someone who would want to have something to do with you. It’d be best to go to a place with no people. But was there such a place that matched your brilliance?

He finally settled on an idea. It wasn’t spectacular enough, as he realized nothing would when compared to the brightness you’d brought into his life. But at least it would be something. A first step. And then tonight, he could… he could...

His cheeks flushed. His heart drummed against his chest. The vigilant Yaksha was about to do something he hadn’t done in a long time.

***

You got ready, dressing in a little bit fancier version of your usual traveling clothes, then waited for Xiao at the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, at the rock where you watched fireworks together the year the vigilant Yaksha entered your life. He never specified a location to pick you up, but Xiao had this special way of finding you.

“You’re here.”

Despite your confirmed relationship status, Xiao had this way of sounding surprised every time you followed up on a promise with him.

You turned to the warm sound of his voice, and as usual, your heart surprised you with the amount that it could feel.

Xiao stood there, with an innocent, vulnerable glow in his beautiful amber eyes. The evening all of a sudden felt very warm, the air around you picked up the scent of roses.

Xiao held out his hand. “And you look wonderful. As always.”

You took his hand gladly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Xiao whisked you away. His efficient Yaksha ways of transport always caught you off guard, and you found yourself dizzy upon landing.

Once your head caught around you found yourself on the top of Mount Aocang.

In the middle of the sunset-lit setting was a table, romantically decorated and set up with the finest display of cuisines.

“I wanted to take you somewhere I was certain we wouldn’t be disturbed. Cloud retainer is looking out for us. She promised not to intrude. I had chef Yanxiao prepare all your favourite meals for you, as well as a few surprises I thought you’d like.”

“It’s… it’s perfect. Thank you, Xiao.” You turned to thank him.

His cheeks flushed. He avoided your direct gaze. “Afterwards, I thought… we could go back to my room at Wangshu. I’m afraid even this isn’t enough alone time for me.” He bravely met your eyes.

Your heart accelerated when you saw the meaning in them.

“S-sure,” you said.

Eating was difficult. You wanted to relax and enjoy the meal but ever since Xiao brought up his room, your heart was pounding like a deranged moth trapped inside a batting cage.

You kept looking at Xiao for more hints of what he planned for the evening, but his usual stoic face was displaying no signs of his earlier frustration.

You decided you were overthinking things and were beginning to relax when Xiao’s gloved hand found your thigh.

“I hope this is enough,” he said with a warm squeeze. “I apologize for the rush. It’s just… I want you to know how I feel about you. More than anything. That’s why tonight is important.” You could see all the loving in his eyes as he gazed at you. You were certain, were it not for that amber gaze holding you in place, you would’ve fallen right off the edge of Mount Aocang.

“Xiao..” you wanted to lean forward and kiss him.

He looked down at your plate, then smirked and sat back. “Eat up. I will exercise my patience while you finish your meal. But after that, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold myself back anymore.”

There was only one thing he could mean by that.

Your hand trembled as you attempted to finish off the rest of your meal.

When did the Yaksha get so bold?

***

When you finally got to the inn Xiao stepped inside his room for a moment to set things up.

Outside, the cool of the night was getting inside the sleeves of your blouse, tickling up goosebumps on your skin. You looked out at the hills of Tevyat, breathing in the sweet smell of Silk flowers in the distance. Would tonight mark a significant turning point in your existence?

Xiao opened the door.

You jumped. You were already feeling hot with thoughts of him.

“Sorry about that, I had to fix up a few things. You can come in now.”

Nervous, your heart pounding as fast as a getaway train, you stepped inside.

The room was gorgeous.

Xiao had lit candles all along the lengths of the walls, something you were sure would’ve been a fire hazard, but in the yaksha’s care was nothing to be worried about. There were qingxin petals on the floor, lifting the room with a light sweet scent. But the most intoxicating thing was the smell of Xiao that radiated warmly over everything.

This was where the Yaksha spent his time when he wasn’t slaying demons. It felt so intimate. If you could bet, he’d probably never let anyone in here before.

In the middle of it all was his bed. King-sized, with white sheets that seemed to glow angelically in the muted candle-lit space.

“I meant what I said earlier, about not being able to hold back…” Xiao approached you. Touching you very delicately at first, he found your waist, his other hand tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I have a bath prepared for you if it gets too much.”

Your knees squeezed together at his touch. Xiao still hadn’t outright expressed it, but there was no denying what he meant now.

He gazed upon you like a painting in a museum, his eyes not holding back their desire as they trailed up and down your body.

Xiao wanted you.

A smirk came to his lips. He exhaled a breath that you felt on your skin.

“You should know, this is not in my usual repertoire of things. But, well… you’ve awakened some things in me.”

“Xiao..”

“I don’t know how it will be. For us Adeptus, engaging in these things can get sort of intense. Our power transmutes to the sexual realm of course. If I’m not able to stop myself…”

“Please Xiao, you should know by now. I can handle anything.”

His hand squeezed on your arm. “Can you?” he said, a tease edging into his sincere voice.

He pulled you in close to him. Then he kissed you. Delicately. Gently. Seductively. It was a kiss that promised more. So much more.

You melted into it.

“Ah, I’ve been wanting this for so long…” He gripped the back of your head and kissed you deeper.

You gasped into his lips. Your knees were driving into each other. It was all you could do not to explode with the tension.

His arm slipped behind your waist, locking you against his hard body. His fingers dug into your hip bone, causing you to yelp with the sensation.

When you pulled away your cheeks were flushed. A trail of saliva dripped between you.

It was just one kiss, but it had sent your body on a whirlwind trip through the mountains. You were heating up fast. You both wanted each other so bad.

Xiao saw the look in your eyes and practically dragged you toward the bed.

He threw you onto the covers, his kisses getting more intense, his tongue digging deep into your mouth.

You tangled your tongue with his, gasping as his fingers tickled your neck.

His free hand traveled down your body and pinned your hips to the bed. You gasped again. His lips traveled to your neck and decorated it with deep kisses.

You groaned, your legs clenching, you desired all of him this instant.

“Did I say it?” he said. “How I want to show you how I feel?” His voice was like honey butter. You were so in love with it. It just made you want him even more.

You surrendered into the bed and allowed yourself to be kissed by him.

“Xiao—”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You reached up and bit his lips.

He hissed, his grip clenching on your hip. You could feel him shaking, an earthquake of desire above you.

“You—you’ll pay for that.” He tore at your clothes.

The fabric ripped easily in his ravenous grip.

Xiao tossed your ripped garments to the side and looked down at you.

A feral noise came from his throat that even he couldn’t control. He took to your neck again, then began traveling down your bare body.

“Ah—god M/C, you’re so beautiful… I could enjoy you all day.” He sucked on your nipple, turning it hard in his mouth, then made his way down to your belly button, leaving wet, sparkling kisses along the way.

He felt outside the fabric of your panties. “You know, I always wondered what you felt like,” he said.

You arched your back as Xiao slipped his fingers inside, feeling your wetness.

He played around with the inside of you, then slipped his fingers up to your clit, where he rubbed a slow, wet circle.

Xiao smirked. “I thought about picking up some lube, but it seems you’re wet enough on your own.”

“Xiao..” you grab at him, fingers clawing into his shoulders, dragging him up. “Do me. Do what you’ve been wanting to do with me.”

“Ah.. are you ready?”

You nodded impatiently and reached down to his crotch.

He was hard against the soft loose fabric of his pants. You tugged at them. With his help, you relieved his body of its entrapments.

You felt the wetness between your legs growing as his naked body leaned above you.

His naked body was like a sculpture. You’d been teased in the past by the way his tight clothing hung to his abs. You’d thought you’d had an idea of how sexy he was, but seeing him up close like this was a whole other level.

You felt down the hard surface of his body, then reached for his exposed fuck device.

His dick was smooth, you ran your fingers up his base, then played with the sensitive surface of his tip. He was already dripping precum. You brought your finger to your mouth and tasted it.

“M/C—” he gasped, losing all control at your touch. Despite how tough he played it, you knew, it had been years, maybe even decades since anyone had touched him down there.

You had him. Even the strongest Yaksha wouldn’t be able to resist the pleasure.

You felt his girth in the palm of your hand.

With a quick intake of breath, Xiao grabbed your hand and pulled it away, pinning it to the bed.

“If you want it—that badly—” He adjusted himself on top of you, then desperately guided his dick toward your entrance. He shifted around, feeling for your opening. “—then I’ll have to show you—how I feel…”

He entered you.

Fireworks flashed before your eyes. You felt your stomach in your throat as his length filled you.

You opened your legs wider for him.

The moans that escaped his mouth were so raw—so natural.

He shifted his hips, entering you deeper, letting out a grunt.

You felt your energies merging, you felt all of him—his depth, his intensity, his karma—his passion that went so deep it threatened to drown you.

You tried to moan his name but the sound came out choked. You were overloaded with the fullness of him.

His hand clenched the bedsheets beside your head, the cords in his arm pulsing. “Is it—okay?” he asked.

“Mm—” you bit your lip, he was flooding you with a fire. You could see him holding back for your sake, you wanted him to know you could handle it. “Yes,” you gasped. Your eyes telling him, you would.

“G-good.”

He started slowly. Thrusting into you with a melodic rhythm.

“Oh god…” he moaned. The crease between his brow was trembling, his eyes squeezed in pleasure. “M/C, I…”

He collapsed forward, thrusting into you faster. He rasped into your chest until a rhythm took hold he could no longer control.

He fucked you harder. Deeper. Each thrust sent a hurricane through your body.

You moaned and writhed under him.

“M/C,” his voice was raw, he was on the verge of tears. “You feel so good, it’s not even fair.”

You squeezed him with your legs.

He kissed you. His grip on your thigh told you how much he’d been wanting you, how much he’d been holding himself back. Up until now every kiss of yours had brought him pain. Every kiss of yours unveiled a layer of desire so deep, his centuries of existence felt infinitesimal in comparison. All these sides of himself he’d ignored for so long. You made him remember them all. You made him realize a love within himself that was larger than the universe. If his love for you was this real, this deep, he shouldn’t be allowed to have it. Yet here he was, fucking you—feeling the warm wetness of you around his dick, finding himself wanting more and more of you, finding the back of his head tingling as he indulged the pleasure, wanting to dive even further into his love. If you were really all his and there was nothing he could do about it, he would make damn sure to surpass your expectations.

He devoured every inch of your being as he fucked you even harder. Then with a surge of confidence, he spread your legs apart and hiked your hips off the bed, holding you up with his pure strength. He drove into you, this new angle allowing him to access deeper parts of you.

You moaned. It was so pleasurable for him to hear.

Sweat drenched his body, but he didn’t care. He would show you what it meant to be one of the world’s strongest Yakshas. You said you could handle it, after all.

He pushed himself past his limits of stamina. He flipped you and fucked you from all different angles. Your wild gasps and moans were like signs on a highway he was speeding down. He didn’t care how good you felt, he would make you feel better.

All the while his dick was alive with sensations. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through his shaft that was unlike anything he’d experienced. He gripped your thighs tighter. He wanted to throw his head back and cry out.

You felt so fucking good. He didn’t know something so simple, so human could feel this amazing.

You were so warm, so wet, so...

God, he couldn’t fuck you hard enough.

He’d felt his orgasm the minute he entered you but had been holding it off this whole time. Now it pulsed and raged against his dick, begging to be let out.

Fuck… he wanted to…

He gripped your head.

“Xiao—deeper,” you moaned.

Oh, gods that almost made him come. His whole body was trembling as he fought off the orgasm.

S-so… good…

“More—?” he panted. His voice was raw, his throat hoarse.

You whimpered. Giving your answer in the lacerations you clawed into his back.

He bit his tongue and fucked you past his limits.

“Oh god M/C, I’m going to—” He couldn’t hold it any longer.

The milky-sweet orgasm surged up and out of his dick.

He pulled out of you just in time and ejaculated all over your body.

His cum was wet and sticky.

He remained above you for a few moments as the orgasm still took hold of his body.

His brain tingled.

You stroked his softening dick gently. Even that felt good.

“M/C…” he panted. “I’ll clean up. Wait there.”

He went to fetch a towel, and when he came back you were lying there on the bed, cheeks pink and hot, looking at him with red love in your eyes. You were so beautiful. Gosh he was so grateful to have you.

His heart clenched as he cleaned you up.

You reached out and stroked his arm. “Xiao,” you said, “I love you.”

“M/C… I love you too. More than you could ever know.” He leaned forward and kissed you. Then the two of you fell back onto the bed, your cooling bodies quickly finding each other.

As Xiao lay there, he realized the truth of the sentence. There was no way you could know. Nothing on the physical plane of existence would allow him to transmute all these feelings he felt toward you. There would be many more nights of him showing you how he felt before you would begin to grasp the depths of his love for you.

That was alright. He smiled to himself. This was a challenge he was more than willing to take on. Even if it was impossible, he would never stop showing you how much he loved you. Even if it took all of eternity for you to finally understand.

[ckret2]

Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:

Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!

But not everything about his dimension.

"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.

"Not natural ones."

"Awww!"

"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."

"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"

Bill didn't answer.

Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"

####

For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.

Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.

His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.

As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.

He stared back.

And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.

####

"Bill?"

"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"

"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.

Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"

"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"

"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"

"Superheroes don't kill people!"

"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"

"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.

Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."

"WHAT!"

"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"

"What color glitter did you wear?!"

"Usually gold."

"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"

"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"

"You're boring."

"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."

"What colors."

"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."

Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"

"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.

"What kind of music did you listen to?"

"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."

####

It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.

"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."

Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"

Bill sighed.

He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.

####

By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.

When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.

But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.

When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"

####

Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."

"Oh, I'm so ready!"

Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"

"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"

"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"

"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"

"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"

"Twelve! Decadoggins!"

"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"

"Random mutation!"

"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."

"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"

"With consequences including—?"

"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"

"Mortality."

"Lots of dead babies."

"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"

"Cancer!"

"Meaning circles are...?"

"Tumors!"

"And what do we do with tumors?"

"EXECUTE THEM!"

"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.

Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)

"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.

"Awww, again?!"

"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."

Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.

Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.

A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.

And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.

Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 

He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?

"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"

"Right," Mabel said.

"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."

"But it's actually a curve. From space."

"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?

Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"

"Right."

"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"

Mabel hesitated. "Right."

"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"

"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.

"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."

And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.

Bill said, "I lost you."

"But where does it go!"

Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."

"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"

"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."

"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"

"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."

Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.

"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."

Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.

"Those aren't straight lines, kid."

"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."

He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."

"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."

"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."

The scene made Ford ache.

Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.

It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.

In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.

Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.

Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.

Hatred tiredly crept back in.

"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"

"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.

"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.

Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."

Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."

"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.

Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."

"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."

"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."

She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"

"Right."

"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.

Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"

Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."

"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"

"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.

She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"

"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."

"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."

Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."

He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.

Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."

"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"

And Ford was immediately lost again.

"No," Bill said.

Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"

"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."

Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.

Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.

And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.

Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 

It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wantedsomething from him. 

On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?

It had made Ford want him dead even more.

This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.

The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:

Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?

"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"

Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"

Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"

"What does the fourth dimension look like?"

"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."

"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"

"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."

"How's that different."

Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."

"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"

Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"

Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)

[fountainpenguin]

Things that happened in Martyn & Cleo Double Life canon:

Cleo hoping to find her soulmate and start a life with them

Cleo dumping Martyn without giving him a chance to explain his side of the story, but hearing him out when he comes to her later

Martyn watching Cleo through his spyglass and telling the audience she seems safe and happy even though he thinks it's weird she's outside at night

Martyn, after he's had time to consider how he wants to play this, spinning a story about trying to be a provider for her and Cleo explaining that she wanted him, not things

Cleo not being remotely impressed by the "I was providing" sob story, lol

Martyn calling Cleo selfish for choosing to be with Scott because she's supposed to be HIS soulmate and he wants a partner

Cleo willing to forgive Martyn if he meets them halfway

Martyn refusing to meet them halfway because he doesn't think he did anything wrong

Martyn screaming about how Cleo's building bridges with Scott but "When will she think about mending our bridges???"

Martyn explaining to Cleo that he doesn't understand why his Session 1 actions bothered them

Martyn centering his character arc and roleplay on trying to win Cleo back without actually apologizing

Cleo giving Martyn a flower and stating that if he loses it, she'll be real cross with him

Cleo chasing Martyn out of her yard because he tried to put an HOA sign on her base and she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't associated with them and their hate for his base (even though she does think his heart base is strange)

Martyn attacking Cleo after she said attacking is a form of affection to her

Cleo setting boundaries with Martyn and explaining what he can do to get her back

Cleo sighing when Scar set her up on a date with Martyn, but taking the chance to talk to him instead of walking out

Cleo genuinely wanting Martyn in her alliance

Martyn and Cleo giggling constantly when they chat

Scar asking if Martyn wanted him to play a romantic music disc for him and Cleo (and Martyn getting excited and saying yes)

Martyn offering to take Cleo's armor and weapons to the deep dark so he can enchant them and bring them back while she stays safe

Cleo gifting Martyn diamonds, expecting nothing in return but not wanting him to die from lack of a good sword

Martyn and Cleo forming a secret alliance that allows Cleo to live with Scott while being on good terms with Martyn

Martyn expressing frustration that Cleo wants to keep this alliance secret because he wants them to be public allies; Cleo softly shushes him when people approach and might overhear

Martyn telling Cleo that she's putting out a lot of mixed signals because she keeps reeling him in and then pushing him away, claiming he is very confused about where he stands with her

Martyn teasing Cleo by punching her off a cliff and accidentally killing her and feeling so bad about it that he apologizes profusely despite roleplaying as someone who refused to apologize for Session 1

Martyn and Cleo immediately threatening Bdubs together when he said hi to them while they were hanging out, sdkfj

Martyn genuinely apologizing to Pearl for dumping her after Session 1

Martyn hiding under Cleo's bed while she defends him from an enderman attack

Cleo offering to let Martyn move into her house after Etho and Joel grief his base; Martyn saying he might take her up on that

Cleo and Martyn agreeing to move out and base together at Box

Cleo trusting Martyn with the location and resources of her red life base

Martyn rushing to Cleo's aid in the deep dark and trying to turn everyone against him instead

Cleo responding to Martyn's panicked shouts for her to eat by opening her inventory to get food (and drowning because she forgot she was in water)

Cleo hanging back and letting Martyn attack Scott while she does nothing to stop him from doing so, implying as much as she likes Scott, she won't kill Martyn (and herself) for him (and/or she trusted Scott to handle himself even though he ran away while Martyn was shooting at him)

Things that did not happen:

Cleo unwilling to forgive Martyn or consider being his friend and partner

Martyn and Cleo hating each other

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[bakugoushotwife]

𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖘

a/n: here is the finale to part one!! thanks to everyone being patient with me to get this part out, i've been going thru it lately but we got her done. i haven't proofread everything but will as it goes live, just kinda wanted to put it up. this shit gets dark so proceed at your own risk. cw: gore, blood, murder, major character death, infanticide, smut, cowgirl, pregnancy journey, serious graphic descriptions, etc. dead dove do not eat. series masterlist jjk masterlist part two

he grips your forearms, pink lips parted in disbelief. his touch is gentle, eyes gleaming with emotions yet unnamed. “again. say it once more.” he whispers, seemingly searching for the physical signs already as his eyes dance around your stomach. 

“i’m pregnant, the healer confirmed it–our heir. he or she is coming!” you laugh in astonishment, a gentle warmth blushing across your cheeks. he pulls you against his broad chest within the next second, a myriad of thoughts occurring in his brain all at once. his wife–his queen, was with child. he was no longer the man he was cursed to be. he was loved by you, and would soon become a father to a loving baby of his own creation. a monster he may be, but solitude had lost its grasp on him, and he would never feel guilt for his monstrous ways now. not with a family to protect. a family. ryomen sukuna—head of a family. 

you nuzzle your face against his neck, and his heart physically aches with the emotion he stores in it for you. surely this is something much stronger than love. no one could ever feel as strongly as he does. he sighs softly. comfortably, and sets you back on your feet with a soft chuckle that rumbles inside both of your chests. 

“what wonderful news—outstanding news, my love…you have made me the happiest man...what a gift..” he says in a voice nearly foreign to you with its overwhelming gentleness. it conflicts with the look in his eyes. it’s hard to describe—the love and adoration he’s always held is there, with something else lying beneath. a certain icy cruelty that you know he’s capable of—a primal protectiveness. yes, gone were the days of leaving you in the throne room or bed chambers by yourself to be waited on by uraume and the rest of the staff. no, no. he would be attached to you like a second soul, as if you weren’t growing one already. 

he just couldn’t bear to risk it. especially as the building plans commenced and more strangers would be around his wife than ever before. his nerves were…heightened so to speak. you didn’t want to call it paranoia, as you can understand exactly where his concerns come from. he’s never cared for anyone. not even a fucking little bit, and now he has an entire universe of feelings stored inside of one person—seperate from himself. it’s terrifying. it’s vulnerable in ways he hates to admit, for any one of his enemies that knows of your existence knows exactly how to break him apart. all the sorcerers he’s wronged, all of the families of those he has personally extinguished—they all have a way to enact revenge. they all have a clear path to ripping his heart out of his chest, and it’s a fate worse than death. even the thought of you falling into enemy hands is enough for sukuna to erect gates with enchantments and veils, laying traps of his own mind’s invention all around the palace grounds to ensure your home remains a free territory for you and his baby. 

his baby. his son or daughter growing fruitfully within you. only three people know of the baby’s existence—you, him, and uraume. and this is how the list would stay until it is simply unavoidable. he will cater to your every need himself; and no one else should enter within ten feet of you unless they want to lose their heads. he makes this much clear, announcing the decree to his castle staff. of course they’re curious as to why they can no longer serve their queen–but any questions they have die on their tongues with the feral tone of commands from their king. 

you think it’s all a bit much, but you wouldn’t say anything against his wishes. this is what helps him rest peacefully at night, what makes him believe you are totally and wholly safe. besides it’s more relaxing this way. the only hustle and bustle is about the additions to your home, no servants nagging you about the certain tinctures and powders you should be taking to support your baby through the pregnancy; nor them cooing about how dominant and healthy king sukuna’s offspring would be. no. it’s just the two of you and the moment. the first few months were rocky—much more negative than positive with your symptoms and struggles. your husband was a rock amidst the nausea-inducing waters. he may not be inspirational or motivational in his words, and he may not know simply from instinct alone how to comfort you; but do not mistake that for neglect. he is ever curious, and attentive. he can tell when you need something…he just needs you to help him along as to what for the first few weeks into this beautiful journey. 

he’s quick to provide you a trash receptacle or to rush after you as you run into the bathroom to puke. he’s the one holding a cool rag to the back of your neck and keeping your hair out of the way, the sound of your seemingly endless retching tugging at his heart. he learns that the term “morning sickness” is really a lie—you’re sick at all hours of the day. he nearly feels guilty over your suffering, keeping you hydrated on water and coconut milk for extra nutrients. you aren’t keeping much food down, but he tries to make sure you’re offered plenty of it. going into the second month of your weak exhaustion and pathetic puking, he’s growing more than concerned. 

“i’m calling the doctors, my queen is suffering far too much.” he announces, using a rag to dab the sweat off your forehead as the toilet receives yet another round of your stomach’s contents. another hand fashions your hair into some sort of ponytail, and the other two stabilize your hips. you shake your head, leaning back to sit on your haunches as you wipe your mouth. 

“it’s perfectly normal. i’ll enter the second trimester soon, hopefully it will stop then.” you say, chipper. he finds it confusing how you can clearly feel so bad but pretend otherwise. your child isn’t even showing in you yet, you only look as if you’ve had a large dinner. and while you’re ridiculously adorable in this slightly swollen state, he’s left mystified by how such a small babe can disrupt everything about your body. your appetite increases and wanes depending on the day, you cry over a fallen bird's nest and then threaten to light him aflame. it’s a lot for him to wrap his head around, as someone who’s never really been well versed in emotions to begin with. but he is patient above all else—and that’s just fine with you. he’s there for every mood swing, he lets you beat on his chest and yell at him–he lets you crawl into his lap and hold yourself close, to giggle and kiss all over his face only to whisper how horny you are. 

at least that much is the same. if anything, it’s increased. and while sukuna has never been a delicate man, nor a submissive one—he is a somewhat changed man. his wife–only for his wife. he can tame the desire to absolutely fuck you apart for the sake of your growing child—he doesn’t know what exactly your body can handle at this time, despite what he may crave. but…you know what you can handle, don’t you? he…can allow you to use his body in this way too. it’s the least he can do, really. he knows he’s not the most caring man in the universe. frankly, he’s spent many a time thinking you deserve someone much more loving and doting than he. but you bask in the love that does flow from him, and your body is being used to grow his offspring. so yes, he clears the throne room of contractors and servants and architects making last minute adjustments, adding rooms fit for children to thrive in and his family to gather in; all because his precious wife made an appearance demanding his attention. yes, he lets you position yourself against his lap and rut against him at your own pace, grinding on his thigh while you beg for his hands to toy with your tits. 

“please–i need more, my king~” you pout, pawing at his wrists, dragging them up to your chest.he finds you enchantingly adorable, and this neediness is such a good look on you. not being able to throttle you nearly makes his bones ache, but he uses his lower set of hands to guide your hips over his defined thigh–his top set of hands giving into his sweet wife’s desires. 

and he always knows exactly how to touch you. he kneads at your breasts, the sore fat of your tits melting into his hands so perfectly you hiss and let your head fall back, rolling across your shoulders at just the simple enjoyment of his fingers tweak at your swollen nipples. he loves how sensitive you’ve become, how your brows pinch together and your cheeks darken the closer you get to soaking your panties. he knows you’ll plunge yourself on his cock over and over again–letting him coat your insides with the seed that’s already taken root in your gorgeous little womb. 

“of course. my naughty little queen can’t sleep without her husband’s cock pressing into her?” he coos, the words so taunting but so loving at the same time. you howl with excitement, ripping his pants down after several seconds of effort, your animalistic growls of need so pleasing to his ears and ego. you take as much of his cock inside as you can, thighs tightening at the effort. 

“mm–nuh uh, can’t help it–just need you all the time!! ‘s your fault–you did this to me!” you pout, bottom lip swollen from the amount of times your teeth have dug into it. your belly, just barely bloated with the sign of pregnancy, just glistens in the candlelight of his throne room, everything about you was calling out to him—as always. he doesn’t know why the sensation still surprises him every now and again. so he helps you, hands on your waist to help lift you up and down along the shaft of him, watching your face contort and ease with bone-deep pleasure. “oh, yessss~” 

your hands scramble to hold something, his wrists, his chest–anything with purchase as your orgasm shakes through your entire body. he only uses your tight walls for a few more lengthy strokes, erupting thick white ropes that paint your insides in the best way–the way that makes your legs tremble and buckle, so spent from your attempts at riding him that you’re leaning into his chest and closing your eyes to sleep. this has been your routine for about three weeks now, not that he minds. 

but the second trimester…oh how golden. this was the first time that sukuna really understood the beauty of pregnancy. with all of the nights of puking and bad sleep and weird cravings and mood swings and the list goes on—he was wondering what exactly was the big glow with babymaking aside from your sex drive and the overall concept that you get a baby out of it. but now, as your bump develops and grows everyday, as your energy evens out somewhat and all you want to do is nest and decorate for the baby—he gets it. uraume brings bigger robes so you may dress comfortably, and sukuna passes along your every demand to the builders. the baby’s nursery is being painted by hand, the crib by the finest carpenters that japan has to offer. sukuna wouldn’t be sukuna of course unless he threatened to kill every worker on the project if they spilled the news of what they were working on to a single soul. 

the fields outside the palace have become your favorite place to be. you enjoy laying in the sun, plucking the wildflowers that grow on the hillside and weaving them into a flower crown, and watching the animals sprint around in the treeline below. sukuna would watch from the castle some days, letting you bask in nature under his careful oversight. some days he joins you, listening to you prattle about the birds that like the sugar water you lay out. the peace that you bring to his life is something astounding. he never would have imagined himself enjoying listening to someone so bubbly and optimistic. you have always been a light he had never known existed, and he sees you as a literal angel. the way the summer skies cast a glow down on you—glowing up your hair and skin and highlighting that beautifully round bump. 

this day, he sits outside with you–watching you lean back, robes unbound to drink in some more sun. he’s proud that he’s able to make it such a safe place for you–your happy place. you can hear him approach, a joyful grin spreading across your face as you look over at him. 

“the baby knows you’re here~” you coo, supporting the underside of your rounded bump. the king lays beside you, a smirk on his face at the greeting. “say hello to your spawn.” you add, snickering. and dutifully so, he leans in and places his hand on your stomach. the broad paw spans most of the stretched skin, life and wonder sparkling in his ruby red eyes as he feels it, the repeated soft flutters against his palm make his heart skip a beat. his son or daughter is so active, and very strong. and they seemingly feel him, like you claimed. they like his voice and his touch, his gentle brush of his hand inspiring another tirade of kicks that send you giggling. 

it just makes things that much more real for him. his child is on the way, halfway grown already. he can’t wait to meet them, to see if they resemble you or himself more closely, to have a mini-him to take under his wing and entrust his philosophy to. he can’t wait to watch you be a mother either. just what his limited imagination can conjure up warms the coldness in his chest. the idea of you swirling around a sweet nursery with the baby smiling with gums and lips, cheeks rosy from being so loved. 

“hello, little baby of mine.” sukuna hums, leaning down to kiss below your navel. 

you smile sweetly, eyes crinkled in the corners. “we need to think of names!” you hum, running your fingers through his hair. it soothes you to have him so near, your protector and greatest advocate. he hums at the feeling, resting his chin on your breastplate, right before the swell of your stomach. those eyes melt you every time, especially when they look at you with such fondness. 

“their name will come to us when we look upon their face. no need to rush.” he hums softly, rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. 

“i suppose so, but i would like to call them something aside from the baby.” you hum, twisting the pale pink strands around your fingers, wondering if your child would get this uniquely colored hair. 

“then let’s call them ayame, for now.” he decides, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in a smile. the word has so much significance in love and beauty, and he knows it’s the right one to bestow upon his unborn. 

“you’re so sweet, i love it. ayame–for now.” you hum once more–nodding your agreement, resting your hand atop his own. before long, the sun begins to set and the king ushers you inside for dinner—relieved your appetite returned. 

everyday after that was just as beautiful. you worked tirelessly daily to craft ayame’s clothes, knitting in neutrals to ensure the pieces would suit either gender of child. your excitement grows with your stomach, and so does sukuna’s protectiveness. you hardly use the bathroom by yourself. your pregnancy is now common knowledge amongst the castle staff–widespread across your kingdom. so naturally, sukuna is even more scrutinous of anyone coming in and out. the construction is nearly complete, but enemies could be lurking anywhere. and no one is more aware of that than your husband. 

he’s more than relieved whenever the construction reaches its final days as you’re about to pop. he still hovers, don’t misunderstand, but he can take a breath. any day now, you’d go into labor and the heian era’s new prince or princess would make their grand entrance. the nursery was fully prepared and the doctors and midwives had arrived as the construction workers were leaving, everything was in place. 

imagine his surprise when he’s thrown out of sleep in the middle of the night—one of his veils have been breached. moments later, uraume rushes into the room. 

“my king–the perimeter guards caught someone…they had weapons. ordered to kill the queen.” they pant, out of breath from hustling here so quickly. and with that one sentence, his every worst fear is confirmed. people are after you—they want to kill you. kill his baby and his wife in one fell swoop. 

he sees red. 

he looks over at you–sleeping deeply beside him. he can’t disrupt your rest, not when the baby will be coming so soon..so he leans over to kiss your lips softly before following uraume to the throne room to torture the infiltrator that thought they could get away with such a thing. 

he doesn’t think he’s ever been this bloodthirsty before, either. love like this makes you do crazy things–feel crazy things. the perpetrator is being held on his knees, head forced forward to look at the floor. 

“my servants tell me that we’ve caught a roach. let’s hear it.” he spits, intent on torturing this cretin slowly—send a message to everyone else that tries to come after his family. that if you attack—you will be dismembered and scattered across the continents with the breeze. 

“or maybe you just caught the fall guy, and you didn’t stop anything at all.” the man smirks boldly at the king, a shuffle upstairs catching his attention. 

you wake up when the last traces of your husband’s warmth has dissipated. you blink awake, feeling around in his spot to confirm his absence. huffing, you roll to your back, seeing his shadow shuffle around the room. “my love? are you having trouble sleeping tonight?” he’s been known to periodically wake up and patrol the place to make sure that nothing’s slipped past his other defenses. 

“notcha love—you can’t bring that demon to life, whore.” 

and those are the last words you ever hear. 

there’s a slash across your gut, deep. you can hear your blood splatter on the ground—similar to what you had always imagined your water breaking to sound like. you don’t even feel the pain, really. just the fear. just the realization—that you’re too late, that all sukuna had done was for nothing. you’re dying. you’re going to die today–here. alone, and scared, the slash that comes next nearly decapitates you, and you can’t use your technique. you never even got out of bed, only your legs had touched the floor. you hadn’t even been able to stand before they slaughtered you. 

the baby…the baby is gone just as grotesquely as you are–pulled from the gash in your midsection to fight these grown men on their own. ayame was a girl. and she was suffocated before her eyes ever opened, blood strewn about the room. 

the two murderers flee before sukuna makes it to the top floor, able to cascade a rope out of the window and sneak right out, now that all of the security is distracted.  

seconds later, he throws the door open. he nearly sprints forward to check on you–your form visible on the bed. but as he gets closer, he slips. his feet slide on something wet, warm—and he knows. he knows he’s lost the only person that ever mattered. his heart pounds faster as the staff rush in with the candles–revealing the gruesome scene. 

he sobs. it’s a foreign feeling, crying. he had only felt this once before—when he knew he was going to be a father. that was certainly more pleasant than…this. you’re gone. his light–his eternal sunshine…slaughtered like cattle on his bed. you’re gutted, the scent of iron finally hitting his senses. had he been in shock before? is that why he didn’t immediately notice? your head is barely attached to your neck—eyes wide open with horror, mouth hung open to scream. there’s so much blood. dripping out of your mouth, gushing over your chest and out of your abdomen–soaking your pretty lavender nightgown. he reaches for you, emotions heightened to levels left undocumented. that’s when he sees—his eyes focusing on the lifeless lump that was his baby daughter. he reaches for her too–little ayame. he cradles his girls to his body, absolutely wailing. his body spikes in temperature—cursed technique going haywire. he’s inconsolable. his cursed energy is spiking to heights unknown, body shifting—growing larger–rage flowing like a new source of energy all on it’s own. his soul is shattering, twisting and knotting up in his body–heart aching like never before. it was one mistake—he left for two seconds, to let you sleep and now you are gone forever. his baby is dead—his wife…he’ll never speak to you again. never feel your hands on his skin or the warmth of your kiss. he can’t go on like this—no. he has no desire to live. 

the love of his life, his first born child—ripped away from him in an instant. all the peace and happiness and joy you showed him existed has turned into the deepest and darkest personal hell he has ever known. he looks around him—even more blood than ever before. his technique—it killed everyone. he can’t find it in himself to consider it again, too focused on the mangled mess they made of his queen. he will avenge you—he will murder everyone in his path until someone can put him out of this misery. until then–he will take every other soul out of this world. if he can’t be happy–if he doesn’t get to live this life in peace–then no one else will either. 

the entire castle is consumed with the raw force of his cursed energy, shattered in an instant. as if he was a natural disaster in and of himself. perhaps maybe know he is…for he is no longer a man. ryomen sukuna never was quite just a man–the king of the heian era. but now, he is the king of something else. of all things bad and evil—of all the things that can help him enact revenge. the king of curses.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t  @alastors-radio  @alltimenogoaway-blog  @tragedyofabrokensoul @gojosukuna2268  @hannas16  @alwaysfreakingout @thepurpleempath @pelicanpizza  @aenishas @satsuk-jjk @catobsessedlady @gucci-basura @eiaaasamantha @asukahiriko @t4naiis @thejujvtsupost @mymelx @maskedpacific @berranurates @enchantingartisanwitch @celena-alanze

[bonefall]

Hey! Are you ok with people tagging you in fanart they do/making fanart of your rewrite? Your Crookedstar rewrite has me in SHAMBLES and I need to make fanart for it like. Right now

I'm more than ok with it! I try to collect it as I get it over here on this post, which is also linked on my pinned. You should also check out the TVTropes page that @halogenwarrior maintains, I look at it myself time to time because she updates it pretty frequently and I like learning about tropes that way lmao

You can also feel free to ping me as you please on whatever thing you're making that I inspired! That thing on my pinned post asking people to not ping me on OTHER people's posts refers to people going to the personal works of others and making comparisons, asking me questions about my au in other people's replies, etc. Stuff that wasn't considerate to the OP.

All of BB's concepts are free to use and change as you'd like! Credit's not necessary, but I do like seeing what people are up to.

I only ask that you do not steal drawn art to pass off as your own, as I have collaborators you need to be respectful of, and would also personally like to consider doing commissions or adopts at some point. I don't want any mishaps about people thinking those would be free to use.

ALSO BONUS APPLEKIN MARKING SYMBOLISM:

I stopped writing the draft where I did because I had written a lot and had wanted to share at that point, but with the new update on BB!Oakheart being BB!Crookedstar's adopted brother I've already accounted for the apple-leaf-shaped markings that are on his eyes.

("Applekin" cats come with these very subtle eye markings that aren't particularly noticed in-universe, as an artsy visual sign of them all being part of a family. They're going to show up on everyone from BB!Appledusk all the way down to BB!Frostpaw.

You can see them okish on this chibi I did of Silverstream, but unfortunately last time I drew Oakheart he was dadly weaning sunglasses so they're not visible. Here is a picture of the crabapple leaf it's supposed to look like)

They begin to develop the moment that Crookedstar betrays Mapleshade. Slowly, subtly, over the course of moons. So slowly that no one seems to notice it except Crookedstar.

At first, he thinks he's just crazy. Worrying too much, seeing things that aren't there. But his brother's previously creamy eyerims start to sharpen. At the back corner, a streak lines the lashes back. The smooth edges of the color spike, as if needle-sharp trout teeth are carefully being planted, one prickle, one week at a time.

No one else seems to notice it but him. But he gets the message. Mapleshade "gave" him this family-- and she wants him to know she's going to take it away, too.

So please, feel free to do with that as you will~

[sciderman]

do you think Peter is naturally drawn to wade because he’s the one person in his life who essentially can’t get hurt in any universe.

Mj has almost died multiple times while dating Peter, Spider-Man saves her a lot and publicly speaks to her, that made her a target.

Gwen did die. And Peter being him, still blames himself.

Harry either goes crazy or dies, sometimes both.

Norman goes crazy and dies, all the time.

Aunt May is old, she’s not gonna be around forever and often times, she isn’t.

But Wade isn’t them, Wade is gonna be around forever. He’s going to be with Peter until the day he dies and the day Wade has to watch Peter die. Maybe it gives him some comfort, Wade can handle himself and even if he gets hurt, he always comes back from it. Yknow until eventually he doesn’t.

just silly thoughts 😋😋

those thoughts aren't silly! those thoughts are SAD!

i see this take in my inbox a lot and it's kind of the first reaction anyone ever has when first encountering spideypool – this is almost baby's first spideypool take, sorry anon. and for me, it's broke. it's a broke take.

"this one can't die" is a horrible reason to date someone, sorry. and the durability of said partner has never been a factor in who peter parker chooses to date.

i like to think peter's drawn to wade for a reason almost entirely opposite to that - he's drawn to wade because he's dangerous, not because he's safe.

i like to think he's into wade for the same reason he's into putting on tights and getting into fights. for the excitement. not because "this one can't die." i don't think that even comes into consideration for peter. and i don't want it to come into consideration for peter. it's such a horrible, awful reason to date someone.

i don't think peter even takes any solace in wade's immortality at all. wade can still get hurt. and peter will still, instinctively, jump in the line of fire for wade. it doesn't even come as a consideration for him, to just, you know, let wade get hurt, oh, because he can heal. no!!

peter isn't smart enough for that.

he thinks with his heart, not his head.

and i don't think peter even truly believes wade is immortal. i think he's seen enough superhero bullshit in his time to know nobody is truly immortal. and i think peter having lost so many people close to him - it doesn't allow him to feel in any way secure that his lover is immortal. anyone feels immortal at the time. until they aren't.

peter worries about wade. worries how reckless wade can be - how wade doesn't seem to care about the damage he sustains because he thinks he can heal but peter - peter doesn't see it as that simple. and he knows some wounds can't heal.

i even think - just a little bit, that wade's immortality might be something that - miraculously, peter feels guilty about. i think peter feels more worried that something will happen to him – spider-man - and he'll leave wade a widow. i think that's something he'll feel bad about. it's honestly why i haven't touched the idea of peter finding out he died in civil war - he'll bug his own head so much - not about his own mortality, but how guilty he feels to have left wade with all that trauma.

so no. no! wade's immortality does not give peter solace. it keeps him up at night if he thinks about it too hard. peter can't not worry, it's chronic. and for all the reasons he should be relaxed that wade can't die, he worries about it all the more.

[consumedbyfeels]

I just got this comment on my most recent Tevan fic and I'm fine with you not liking my ship, It's cool but what I'm not understanding is why you're reading it. This is not really a hate comment (I did get one of those once it sucked this is not that.). I wonder why you read a fic clearly tagged a ship you don't enjoy and then take the time to comment. I'm not entirely sure what you mean the fic should have been an email. Do you just not think people should post fics where ships aren't cannon endgame? Too many ships to count on AO3 aren't cannon most were never cannon heck some the characters never even met in cannon or aren't even from the same universe. If we fics writers limited ourselves to cannon there would be almost no fics. The fic is clearly tagged.

And to the they'll break up, they are thriving babes. They are having a romcom moment. There is no reason for them to break up. Maybe they won't be endgame (although i hope they are I love them so much) but they are happy for now and we can just enjoy that. Just read what you enjoy. I'm not saying you have to love my ship, just pay attention to tags, this was clearly tagged Tevan and it's okay to skip a fic you won't enjoy. I just think it's kinda funny, should I be offended by this? I'm not sure what the commenter wanted to accomplish but alright good for you buddy.

Ps. I write for more than Tevan generally speaking but right now Tevan has a chokehold on me and that probably all you're getting for a while so if thats not what you want my fics are not for you and that's okay. Read something you will enjoy. life is too short to spend time doing anything you don't like.

[justatalkingface]

People are saying that, with Izuku running on OfA embers, and eventually becoming Quirkless again, it'll "prove" that a Quirkless person CAN be a hero and like... yeah, if they're given the biggest step up in the UNIVERSE, granted broken levels of power to even reach the first step, then consistently break themselves to prove that they are worth something, then sure.

My problem with it all is that it's just so damn mean spirited. One of the core defining traits of Izuku, from the very first chapter, has been his burning desire to be a hero that came over in everything he did, right back to defending children from Bakugou. This kid, who deserves to be a hero more than half the actual pro heroes we see, is barred due to factors beyond his control. And then he's given his wish. He's given everything he ever wanted, a Quirk, friends, his dream... and now it's taken away. It's stripped from him in a plan that he had zero say in (remember when Izuku could think and plan instead of the vestiges doing it for him?), and now Horikoshi doesn't even have the goddamn decency to let him think *anything* about this. How does he feel about having his dream taken away from him?

Eh, he's fine.

Allmight: Is only a hero with a Quirk.

All Might: Stops being a hero without a Quirk.

Izuku: Is a hero with a Quirk.

Izuku: Almost certainly stops being a hero without a Quirk.

...

Yes. Clearly, the moral of the story here is that Quirkless people can be heroes. Surely, nothing about the fact that they only did so when they had a Quirk disproves this argument!

...

Sigh. Like. This whole thing with Izuku is some depressing shit, it really is. It's just... Hori just seems to hate the idea of Izuku being successful. Or happy. Or, really anything that isn't miserable.

If he was going to be such a dick to him, he should have just made Bakugou the protagonist, and saved Izuku the grief.

[marlopawsome]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 SPOILER ‼️‼️

MY GOD CAN YOU FUCKING STOP CALL PEOPLE HOMOPHOBIC OR QUEERPHOBIC who are skeptical because of the genderswap of Michael??

1. The Writers made us doubt Francesca love for John with the kiss at the wedding and her „I forgot my name“ when meeting Michaela

In the books there is no doubt Fran and John love each other over the moon, they enjoy themselves emotional and physical

Michael falls first, not Francesca, Franny loves Michael as a friend and then with her overcoming her grief she starts to love him in a romantic way

Now we have a she’s married to John whom she clearly likes but we now doubt if it’s real love like Violet tried to convince her for 3 episodes and clearly she’s attracted to Michaela

So it’s not the Michaela is a woman it’s the whole do Fran really LOVE John or is it just mutual likeness? And why would they erase this love they had? They didn’t need to do that! They could have sticked to the book and let Fran fall in love with Michaela after John’s death

2. Michaels whole conflict was based of his GUILT taking EVERYTHING from John

Beginning from his titles and land, Michael never wanted that or the commitment coming with a title

We now had three seasons and Queen Charlotte with whole lot of conflict where WOMAN were on the brink of loosing everything because they could not inherit the title and lands

So after he inherits everything he really struggles to be around Fran, to be true to his feelings because he’s thinking „I am not taking the last thing John had from him!!“

How would that now go with a female Michaela?

As I said the SHOW showed us clearly no female could inherit land or titles

Damn it even was a crucial part in season 2 & 3 with the feaheringtons and changing that would made all the hardships Portia going through invalid

Also they could have just scrapped the Mondrichs/Lord Kent Plot altogether then

So again: it’s nothing to do with Fran should not love a woman BUT with the In-Universe Canon and how that can work out with one of Michael’s biggest inner conflicts? People are not AGAINST it they’re are just wondering how this could work out?

Edit: I see a Eloise and Michaela are going to get woman’s the right to inherit land and titles plot and Fran has a daughter of John but would loose everything and Michaela wants to save her (although Fran has always her family in London)

3. Francesca wants to be a mother more then everything

And yes, wlw couples struggle a lot with getting pregnant and getting kids too

But In the books Francesca struggles to concieve, and after John’s death she miscarried

We don’t have a lot of screentime for this kind of life and struggles, besides in Queen Charlotte, and it would be cruel to remove this

Francesca wants to be a mother so bad and although adoption is a way (but I wasn’t shown in 4 seasons so it would be strange to just pop up in Frans story) or sperm donor (which I don’t think Fran would be compatible for) again it clashes with what the show runners established in the In-Universe Canon.

Surely they can implement that now, it would have just been better to build that up! Not a sudden „it’s possible now“

So the genderchange brings two major plotquestions for the characters and the way the show did it invalidates Frans Love to John

ALSO! That feels so much like forced queerness! We love and want and need queer representation! But we deserve good story’s, nice build up and true feelings!!

In the end we have to wait how the show runners execute the plot now, and what they gonna do, how the actors work etc and can’t say if it will fail or not

But to be critical and question the decision because of how the show handled a lot of topics crucial for the John/Fran/Michael Plot does not make one homophobic or queerphobic.

[mister-a-z-fell]

Mr. Fell - I’d like to ask you a question, sir, but as I am a bit chagrined to be asking it, I must do so anonymously. Sir, is it improper to pray to angels?

I was raised in a religious tradition that encourages praying to saints and other “intercessors”, as that’s considered a way to get additional weight added to one’s prayers on their way to the Almighty. And I notice that the Archangel Michael is often revered as a saint, and so must also be the recipient of prayers.

Additionally, we were taught that the Almighty is busy, very busy, with far loftier things than we can comprehend. We were discouraged from thinking that we should interrupt.

As a result of these two factors, I often find myself hesitant to pray to the Highest power. I feel the need to have a…a middle-man, as it were. Someone who might not be irritated at my small, mortal concerns.

I’m sure you can read between the lines, sir, and know that I am asking if it is alright to pray to you, or to any angel.

Thank you for reading this.

I had to think about this before replying. The world is full of different beliefs and different ways of connecting with the Higher Power, as it were. And I am just one angel. Lowly of rank and — for most people — a fiction. To give you an answer that has meaning but that doesn't presume an authority that isn't mine is a fine line to walk.

But I'll try.

The God of your understanding is big. Vast in a way that is beyond even the most inspired physicist's comprehension.

There is room in that vastness for all the business of the universe, from the crash of galactic tides to the drift of a single protozoon. Your prayers and concerns are neither small nor inconvenient. You are the Almighty's treasured Creation, and you are heard, whether you shout your prayer from a mountain top or whisper it in your innermost heart.

That being said, if you find you're more comfortable asking for angels to intercede on your behalf, there's nothing wrong with that, so long as you pray through us, but not to us. We love you and we'll add our voices to yours. But it’s important that you know that we exert no influence and the answers you receive are not ours.

And sometimes the answer is 'no’.

Keep a hopeful heart and ask for whatever sustains and comforts you.

I hope you hear ‘yes’ more often than ‘no’.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 24 – MULTIVERSE

now that we have seen each other by Mizzy

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 5,235 Tags: Identity Reveal, Secret Crush, Portals

Summary: Steve's crush on Iron Man seemed to him to be much more reasonable than his crush on Tony Stark. A meeting with some identical Avengers from another reality raises some important identity questions, though, and with their shattering revelations in tow, will Steve's heart survive this experience?

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, Steve's not-so-hopeless crush on Tony is the cutest thing ever. I always love when authors explore Steve being the one who's insecure and feels that Tony is out of his league instead of the other way around, and Mizzy's version of it here is absolutely fantastic. And of course, Tony is being his most Tony self in any universe. You should definitely read this one, if you haven't already!

The Best of Intentions by Sineala

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 2,436 Tags: Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together

Summary: Steve Rogers, Earth-1610, attempts to warn Steve Rogers, Earth-616, away from Tony Stark. Events do not proceed as planned.

Reasons why I love it: Hell yeah, 616-Steve, you tell him! I like to imagine that after this, Ults-Stony also figure their shit out, but I am more than happy with the 616 fluff at the end! It's super heart-warming and sweet, and I highly encourage you to check it out for yourself!

what it looks like (from the outside) by isozyme

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,786 Tags: Porn with Feelings, Erectile Dysfunction, Internalized Homophobia

Summary: “I talked to Rogers,” Tony said. His tone was edged with wheedling — Tony was building up towards asking for something. “And now I need your opinion: what are your feelings on threesomes?” “With Rogers?” Steve asked, surprised. Steve certainly — surely — probably — didn’t approve of threesomes. Even if Tony asked for it, in his haughty, affected way, the way that said it was all a joke until you said yes, Steve would — he wouldn’t say yes. He certainly wouldn’t have thought other-him would go for it. “No, with a platypus,” Tony teased. “Yes, obviously, with Rogers.” -- Commander Rogers from Earth 616 comes to visit Ultimates Steve and Tony. They have a threesome with feelings. That’s it, that’s the fic.

Reasons why I love it: Ults-Steve struggling with his masculinity in regards to his sexuality is one of my favorite things. Combine that with 616-Steve's Tony-related trust issues and Tony's penchant to solve problems with a physical demonstration, and you get the kind of incredible fic that goes straight into my favorites. I love this one so much, and I bet you will too!

Though Your Face Is Lovely by ChibiSquirt

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 14,569 Tags: Mutual Pining, Noir Tony, Smut

Summary: Tony Stark is an experienced adventurer by the time he's working beside Captain America and the Howling Commandos... which is why he should have known better than to pick up the artifact. Transported into another universe, he's going to have to find a way home, even if it means dealing with these "Avengers" people, some of whom seem awfully familiar...

Reasons why I love it: I love Noir Tony's radical approach to matchmaking. I'm so happy that MCU Steve and Tony figure their shit out, and that hopeful Noir ending is the cherry on top of a delicious fic sundae. Also, the smut is hot as hell, I loved it a lot. This fic is fantastic, and you should definitely read it!

Iron Men by copperbadge

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 8,195 Tags: Threesome, Humor, Alternate Universe

Summary: When a second Tony Stark slips through from an alternate universe, Steve suddenly finds his hands very full.

Reasons why I love it: I love both of the Tonys' voices in this, they feel so true to canon, and they're hilarious to boot. Steve calling Tony on his intentions made me chuckle, and the smut itself is hot as hell. I adore this fic, and I bet you will too, so if you haven't yet, I hope you check it out!