#the mud monster got him

[starstrvckfool]

My brain remembered the 2021 tubbo Halloween stream and remembered also I'm a tommyinnit fan 💥

[jrueships]

theyre so beautiful bro

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[in-the-multiverse]

HotGuy is the bravest, sharpest, most handsomest hero in all of Hermit City. That’s what he’d tell you, anyway. Nobody can agree on what HotGuy is. A hero to some, villain to others. There’s a universal agreement he’s a wanna-be show off of some kind. Him and that pesky bird…

Scar is determined to win over the citys’ hearts (and charitable diamonds) so who better to face off against than King Cleo? With his charming smile, trusty bow, and sidekick CuteGuy, nothing can go wrong!

Coming soon to a theater near you /j

(but these are screenshot style pieces for what I imagine an animated hotguy movie would look like. More ramblings about this au below)

[trailer] / 1

King Cleo would IMMEDIATELY put them in their place like a teacher lecturing the entire class on how they’ve been misbehaving. But that’s no fun right away, so why not let them learn their lesson? >:)

HotGuy and CuteGuy are an iconic duo in Hermit City. King Cleo and Entropy (Cub) are another iconic duo. Whether each team is heroic or villainous depends on who you ask. Even the city residents are split on opinions

Except Bdubs. He runs a podcast spilling conspiracy theories and dragging almost every “hero” name into the mud (his attitude is very inspired by J. Jonah Jameson from Spiderman). He believes they’re menaces and should stay out of the city’s local problems because 9/10 they somehow make it worse. He’s very critical of these 4 in particular, and it doesn’t help that they all like to personally mess with him for the fun of it

Far off in the city outskirts, a living folktale hides in the forest. An amalgamation of creatures that make up one giant monster, and coming across their path is…certainly an experience. They speak in poetry and think out loud, peering deep into the soul of their visitor with just a few words. Sightings are few and far in between, but each interaction is memorable- to say the least. Their name is Joe Hills. A very close friend to King Cleo (but nobody else knows that)

And! an explanation to HotGuy’s mobility aid

With the best high-tech, Scar’s wheelchair can reshape into a mechanical griffin with the press of a button. It lets him take to the sky and hotguy targets! Griffins also have conflicting symbolism, which reflects his persona

Good and Evil. Light and Dark. They’re said to be harbingers of chaos. Mischief certainly seems to follow HotGuy wherever he goes. Be wary of his smirk

They’re also said to be gentle protectors. He shows up to help citizens and tiny creatures alike. With a voice so soothing, any trouble they face is wiped off like nothing (or, ends up feeling a little easier to handle)

Griffins are one of the most remarkable creatures in mythology, their stories told and twisted through generations, but how does the griffin tell his own story?

I’ve got a few ideas I wanna draw so I’ll be posting more of this under #hotguy wotk au

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, yandere, monster au, orc x elf!reader, huge size difference

fem reader

Orc Master – who makes his pretty collared elf-pet lick and kiss his heavy balls because his cock won’t fit in her mouth…

They’re the size of grapefruits – bigger than your tits, nearly bigger than your head, and you can only suck a small spot at a time – smacking off the warm weights with a lewd pop before suckling another place just shy of it.

He strokes his cock above you – pearls of pre, more like marbles, trickle down the spine of it before dripping onto your face and chest.

His other hand cradles the entirety of your skull, holding a fat thumb on your brow – angling your head to look past the thick structure shadowing you up into his hooded eyes filled with carnal heat, leering at your pretty face smothered in his sack, begging for what’s kept inside them, warm and ready to flood your guts and breed you full.

His brawny legs are taller than you as you kneel between them – feeling like a beggar praying to a god. His foot, larger than your leg – and his big toe, the size of your fist. Making the whole ground shake when he stomps it down next to you – wordlessly encouraging you to be more eager. 

He's always glossy with old and new sweat – layered thickly and sticky on his tough skin, along with red and brown flecks of blood and mud – highlighting every fat muscle as though carved in metal. Broad shoulders swole with brute strength – even his neck is buff with it, thicker than your thighs – looking proud and toppling as he looms above you. 

His words are few but weighty, grunting out, “Tongue.” Appeased when you listen and stick the pink thing inside his dickhole. Endearment in his voice, purring out “good bitch…” and softly calling you his “tiny elf-whore,” while petting your hair – steering your little head up and down his tall shaft, letting your mouth catch all the spilled mess frothing from his leaky tip.

The muscles in his thighs flex while you suck along his thick veins, pulsing where they fork along the tall tower. You have to gulp when you think about how massive it is – you can’t even reach around it when using both your hands – and you have no sound understanding of how it even fits inside you at all.

When he sucks your tits, he’ll take half of them inside his warm mouth – nomming on them while he stretches your hole with one finger after the other. 

His digits are the size of a male elf’s manhood – you can’t reach fully around one with your hand – and he’s got three of them pumping your tiny elven cunt – prepping you for his much meatier orc-cock.

You’re held easily on his lap, seated sideways and pretty. His drool runs down your chest and belly, and you’re soaked in your own sweat after cumming for the umpteenth time. Still, you squirm when he finally dabs your puffy cunt with the sturdy meat. When it stands between your thighs, the plush cockhead reaches high enough to get cozy between your breasts, and you can already feel it punching your ribs and rearranging your organs.

You always break, trying to fling yourself off and run away despite the collar sitting around your throat with a chain trail leading to the bed.

You’re never able to get out of his grip anyway. He pulls your hair back, making your head hang backward, chest arched up – it’s an awful position, leaving you no option but to thrash – unable to see what’s going on or how to prepare for it.

He picks up your thigh and holds you up in the air by it alone, using you like a ragdoll as he spreads you wide. Huffing out impatient grunts at the numerous failed attempts of pressing his raging cock-head inside you, always slipping through your slit and rubbing off on your clit. He grows angry rather quickly, growling until your hole finally gets sloppy enough to allow the very tip to find footing – just enough to let him knead the entire bulb inside you and slowly sink inch after fat inch all the way up until you choke on it.

Stuffed so fair-tight with a big bulge in your poor belly. You squeeze on it with a cry – your whole body reacting to it, contorting while it settles deep within you. Knees lifting and bending with thighs winding shut, curled toes, and fingers making tight fists.

He’s kind enough to let you roost on it for a bit before moving.

Standing up, he lays your back against the plush bed, still warm from where he’d just been sitting – and wraps a hand around both your ankles, holding them up – placing the other on the dome of your ass, hooking a thumb over your hipbone.

Most of you is still in the air – making so much blood pool in your head. Going dizzy and breathless once he sets the pace, dragging himself out of your tight walls – beyond content feeling your tight cunt squeeze on him as though begging him to stay inside.

You make the cutest sounds – makes his balls clamp up as they swing and softly clap against your back while he slowly lolls his entire length back inside your warmth.

Once your hole surrenders more to his size, he’ll lay your legs to rest against his chest and mirror the placement of his other hand – both now grabbing each of your buttcheeks – starting to fuck your womb tightly.

He loves elven pussy – especially yours – so sweet and juicy, cumming on him every few minutes – milking him for his cream.

You get a fever once he finally cums – pumping it all inside you, unloading for a full minute or two, leaving you gasping and panting with broken moans cut with cries – feeling it seep out around the edges of where he has you stuffed, running down your ass and spine, dribbling down his balls and hitting the floor in fat drops that give a sounding thud.

He waits until his cock is sluggish before sloshing out. 

Everything is a sticky mess, but he cares little for cleaning up – staggering over the bed and immediately falling into a snoring sleep with you tucked under his heavy arm.

After all, he has to make sure everyone knows who you belong to – not only by keeping you collared with his crest but by making sure you smell ripely so – scented from head to toe with his jizz and urine.

BNHA – Enji, Bakugou, Kirishima, Deku, Muscular, Gigantomachia

JJK – Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Kenjaku

AOT – Erwin, Reiner, Zeke

HxH – Uvogin

[aliidarling]

No bc like imagine you are in a trial right right, but you spawn with ONLY a slightly big tee shirt and panties and so Danny (ghost face) is like GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY and tickles you where the sun doesn’t shine :3 only do this after you do my Ada request though .. (just kitten I know that will never get finished)

IM SORRRYY I GOT LIKE HALFWAY DONE WITH THE ADA ONE AND LOST MOTIVATION I SWEAR ILL FINISH IT SOMETIME SOON 😓🙏🙏

dark paradise

DANNY JOHNSON X fem!reader

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: you’re spawned into the trial in tiny pajamas for the new event, and your favorite killer very much likes your outfit hehe

warnings: nsfw obvi, p in v, rough sex, creampie, butt slapping a little, degrading, stab wounds(NO WOUND FUCKING), steve harrington…😟

nsfw content below!!

You felt absolutely humiliated, to say the least. The Entity had decided to wreak havoc on you and send you to a trial in nothing but some shitty horror tee and the tiniest shorts you’ve ever worn.

Being sent to the Red Forest made it even worse, your shirt all wet and damp from the musty air and rain, making the fabric cling onto your skin. Your teammates weren’t to shy with their obvious glances at your chest and how your ass was hanging out.

“Quit it.” You huffed, scowling as you worked on a generator alongside Steve. Fucking Steve, one of the biggest flirts around here.

He rolls his eyes and does a mocking surrender of his hands, before grinning at you.

“It’s not my fault you got sent here looking like a model! Like damn, girl.” He snickers, nudging you with his hips. You glare at him, trying to hold back your laugh.

“It’s not funny!” You whine, curling your knees to your chest slightly to help yourself with the cold. You were shivering. Feeling the wet floor press against your butt had you cringing, but you’d rather have a mud-covered ass then hypothermia.

“It kinda is,” He hums. Another few moments pass as the two of you work on the generator, an eye out for any killer. The trial had just begun so you had no idea who it was yet. A small part of you hoped it would be Danny.

You had no idea what you and Danny were, but he would always let you live, as long as you have him some kisses and maybe a little hook up session. And you weren’t even against it, he was good with that monster in his pants and his words.

Steve suddenly makes a mistake and next thing you know the generator blows up in both of your faces, making you yelp and back up. You turn to him slowly with a pissed off expression.

“Seriously?”

He offers a weak grin.

“Can you blame me? You look very distracting—“

He gets interrupted when suddenly a knife is pushed through his back, making him scream and fall forward. You gasp loudly, stumbling back and hugging yourself. You shiver as the wet rain making your hair sticks to your face, your thin shirt hugging your breasts.

“Don’t talk bout her like that, fuckin’ moron.” The tall man huffs, the black robe and shrieking mask making you relax. You relaxed only for a moment before realizing he was about to kill one of your friends.

“Danny!” You stepped forward, trying to get him to stop from stabbing the shit out of Steve. “He was just joking, c’mon.” You huff, frowning up at the taller man.

He gazes down at you, eyes under his mask widening as your barely covered form presses against his body. From his angle he could see down your shirt, your nipples poking through the shirt brushing against his chest. His breath hitched as he reluctantly steps away from the bleeding out Steve, before turning back towards you and grabbing you around the waist.

“Let’s go, now.” He grunts, dragging you towards the cabin.

Barely twenty minutes later, he had you bent over one of log tables in the cabin, his cock deep inside your small cunt. Your shorts hung off your ankles, your panties pushed to the side.

His grunting was loud and raspy, his hands holding you around your waist to steady your trembling body. He pushed his cock as deep as he could with every thrust, his large fingers rubbing your skin.

He had made sure to bunch your shirt above your chest, not even bothering to fully undress you. Seeing you all damp with those tiny pajamas sticking to your soft skin had him all hot and bothered, with no care in the world other then shoving himself inside you as soon as possible.

“Shut up, whore.” He grumbles quietly, panting from behind you as he keeps thrusting his hips into you from behind. His grip on you was tight, bruising probably.

“Danny…” You moan softly, eyes rolled back to the back of your sockets, mouth hanging open each time his tip presses against that sweet spot all the way in the back of your pussy. It felt so good, getting slutted out by this masked murderer.

You couldn’t even care that your friends blood was getting all over you. All that mattered was how he felt, inside you and on your skin. How his cock hit deeper then anyone ever could, and how he whispered such dirty things that had you clenching down.

“Dressed like a fuckin’ slut,” He grunts, his thrusts hardening. He starts to gain speed, groaning at how tight you were around him, like a fucking anaconda.

“Don’t act surprised that you got bent over, bitch. You knew what was gon’ happen the second you saw me, dirty little slut, flashing those tits at me—“ He reaches one of his hands to grab the back of your head, pulling your hair back as his thrusts grow harder and faster.

“Dannnnny!” You mewl from under him, panting and moaning as he kept going. He grabs one of your legs and puts your knee up on the table, managing to shove his cock deeper inside you. He hums at how you clench down from the new angle, a mocking grin on his face.

“Good lil’ girl, keep takin’ my cock like this and maybe I’ll let you cum.” He snickers darkly.

“Y-Yes, mhm, I’ll be your good girl.” You sigh heavily as he pushes himself deeper once again, having your eyes daze at his good it felt. You were so thankful the generator in the cabin had already been completed, or else the fear of someone walking in would of been haunting you.

His hand roughly slaps your butt, making you whine and clench down. He groans at that and let’s go of your hair, going back to holding your waist and pushing your body down into the table. His thrusts continue, your moans leaving your throat like a broken record.

“I-I’m gonna cum, please, please, can I?” You whimper desperately, hands scratching and clawing at the able in hopes of finding something to hold onto. You could feel your orgasm nearing, making you clench down greatly around his cock, earning a raspy moan from the man behind you.

“Y-Yeah, fuck, let it go sweetie.” He mumbled, his thrusts growing sloppy as he works on making you cum.

Without another second, you let out a shaky cry and cum over his cock, your walls milking him dry. He leans down, pressing his chest against your back to muffle his noises. He releases his thick load inside your pussy, his hands reaching up to push down on your shoulders.

A few minutes pass as the two of you relax from your high. Once he’s felt that you’ve calmed down enough, he slowly pulls out, hissing at the feeling. He stares at your wet pussy and how both your cum dripped out, a small chuckle leaving him.

He steps back and tugs your panties back up, making you cringe as he makes sure none of it falls out of your hole.

“..Danny… C’mon—s’yucky!” You whine as he helps you out your clothes back on. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

“Shut it. Lucky I didn’t cum all over your face.” He gives you a little pat on the cheek. You roll your eyes before reluctantly smiling and pulling him in for a kiss. He hums and kisses back, his large hands going to rub your waist.

You had no idea what the two of you were, fuck buddies, lovers? Maybe in another life you could of maybe lived a normal life, not one where one was a serial killer. Maybe a journalist. Danny Johnson sounds like a journalist name. You’d call him Jed as a nickname, you though, it would fit him.

You both slowly part, his hand going to pull his mask back down. He slaps your butt and pushes the towards the door, smirking.

“Until next time, sweetheart. Better get to the gates before it’s too late.” He tsk’s.

once again i didn’t proofread cuz i’m LAZYYY

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! Here's a drabble I wrote as a warm up, not my best work but it's short And it was written at three am, Enjoy!

The radio man's Wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings:

Human Alastor, murder, Not much Alastor in here but he's here, victim blaming the dead people

You could ask anyone who had met her and they would tell you that The local radio host's wife was the sweetest person they had ever met, a real angel on earth, she'd help out her neighbors, delivering fresh baked goods to those in need, she'd help take care of the neighborhood kids while their parents got away for a night,

She was a saint, who was to know that she had married a monster? She was just another unwilling victim right?

After all,

She was just so kind!

but even those who appear kind could do the cruelest of things, sweet words secretly drenched in venom, dressed in soft unsuspecting colors, her eyes that held nothing but fondness for the person she married and distain for those who stood against him, for those who ran his name through the mud.

She'd gleefully turn a blind eye to the wicked acts he did, being nothing but a bystander, at most she threw a few sickly sweet words to the victims that left them feeling sick to the pits of their stomaches before they perished.

She'd clean up any remaining mess he left behind, making any leftover carnage into fertilizer for her beautiful garden, mopping up the blood stained floors, or digging up a deep grave in the nearby woods for him to drag a body or two into.

She willingly laid next to someone who had countless people's blood on his hands, she'd give nothing but a love-filled smile at him,

She'd dance with a repeat murderer while soft jazz played on the radio each night after dinner, after the dishes were done and dried He'd take her hand and they'd dance.

She'd give a small kiss on the cheek, telling him to stay safe and leave him to his business slaughtering folks.

After all they deserved it right? They weren't truly good folks, Her and her dear Alastor believed ? that wholeheartedly, and Honestly it's their own fault for being easy targets

Right?

No one would believe you if you told them beforehand that the charming radio host, Alastor was a cold blooded murderer who had claimed multiple lives,

After all he was so charming, always with that smile on his face that could make anyone swoon, although you could never exactly know what he was thinking, people adored his voice and his radioshow where he'd play the tunes of the time, and briefly speak about the recent disappearances of people, telling everyone to stay safe.

It's truly the charming ones you should look out for.

It was only revealed when someone hunting in the dead of night mistook her dearest Alastor for a deer, shooting him swiftly through the head, killing him almost instantly, leaving him to be bitten and torn by man's best friend.

The phonecall she got when it was discovered was heart wrenching,

Her beloved Radio host went from charming to his name being thrown around, treated like a monster, [Which he was, he killed people] his office was cleaned out swiftly after being searched for anything alluding to his crimes, the home they shared was searched and torn apart for evidence as she sobbed into the arms of a supportive, unsuspecting neighbor,

After everything went down she was either scorned or deemed a unfortunate lady who unknowingly married a murderous monster, she had parts of the community that took pity bring around casseroles and give her words of comfort.

It couldn't have been more then a year since Alastor had gone, a family member of one of his victims wanted revenge, however since the murderer was already six feet under, why not go for his widow?

In the dead of night carrying a gun he crept into the home she once shared with her beloved, he moved passed the picture frames on the walls, from events, Their wedding photos and pictures of family, all were hung up neatly.

He opened the door, a creaking noise rung out throughout the house,

He moved forward towards the bed where the widow laid, deep in a slumber she'd never wake up from,

The man lifted up the gun and shot her right in the heart, She didn't know what hit her.

Arising from the ground she brushed herself off, the sight of brimstone and the harsh smell of sulfur filled her nose,

She didn't know what killed her, maybe a heart attack? Perhaps she choked on something in her sleep? Well there was no use in wondering, what's done is done, and from the looks of it she definitely ended up in hell, wasn't surprising after all she did help out her husband in his crimes.

With a quick look at herself, she made a face at the animal ears that protruded from her head, along with the matching tail on her back, shaking her head she began walking around to explore the place.

She supposed it was time to go find her dearly departed darling now wasn't it?

Good evening folks! Thank you for reading!

I'm making my way through requests and a couple of them will hopefully be out within the week! Stay tuned!

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hey sugar~

I want a full fluff no angst request of alastor in the woods finding a lost reader

Monster In The Woods

Alastor x GN!Reader

Song: Like Real People Do by Hozier

TW: Talks about Murder, flashback to Human Alastor

A/N: Hihi Love! Added a teensy bit of angst. Who doesn't love angst?

You grumbled and looked around Alastor’s familiar bayou that was in his room. Your curiosity got the best of you, it was just seemingly endless with moths and fireflies, mud that sticks to your shoes and vines that hang from the trees that look like snakes waiting for you to let your guard down. Figments of alligators hissing and watching as you struggle to make your way further into the bayou, an old house sitting and waiting..inviting you into its warmth with bright light and smoke billowing from the chimney.

A sense of dread filled your body, one that you were too familiar with and hated with a fiery passion. The same feeling that made the golden ring on your finger feel heavier than normal allowing doubt to creep into your mind and anxiety wrap around your heart. Why weren’t you running towards the house? Towards the feeling of safety wrapped in the comfort of an old home..why were you standing in the middle of an open field? You were an unsuspecting doe about to get shot down…why was this so familiar?

Hands cupped your face, warm and sticky with blood as you sobbed out, whispers of words you couldn’t hear truthfully. You watched as his face- your husband's face twisted in fear and concern but his eyes told a different story, he was angry. Not at you, never at you. His hands brought you to his chest as your senses finally caught up to you. Ringing in your ears, chest heaving from the lack of oxygen in your lungs, your leg and stomach hurt. The same substance that was coating your hands had coated your leg and stomach. You were bleeding. There was so much blood. His words had fallen on deaf ears as a man laid face first into the mud and dirt not too far away, blood mixing into the earth. 

Oh right, you were running from the man and a trap snagged your leg good, ripping tendons in your leg. Then a shot rang out as you tried to get your leg out of the trap, distant slurs as the drunken man held a gun up aimed for your head. All you wanted to do was check up on your husband, you made this journey many times before why was this the outcome of it? As you began praying to a god you possibly never believed in, you never really visited the churches when you were younger. But you always did with your husband under the guise you were just going to work with him after. Yet here you were sobbing and panicking, whispering out how you wanted to absolve all your sins to God.

But it never came, the gun was dropped and subsequently caused the gun to go off. Bullet shooting out into the Louisiana swamps, the sun casting its last dying light upon your form as the moon was rising from behind the old shack.  Blood spurted out from the neck of the unknown man as your husband stood behind him, clothes drenched in blood as the knife in his was dropped to the muddy ground. You sobbed out in his arms..bleeding out, was this how you were going to die?

A familiar clawed hand squeezed your shoulder as familiar static nipped at your skin, another reaching over to wipe the fresh tears from your eyes. “Come come, let’s not dwell on the past, Darling.” He whispered out as you looked up at him. His crimson eyes that were always watching and moving waiting for the wrong movement, softened as he watched tears stain your cheeks. “I’m sorry..I got curious…” You whispered out watching him wave it off as he grabbed your hand, lifting it to kiss the golden band.  

Guiding you out of the bayou easily, he tapped his cane on the ground beside him, “No need to apologize, Darling. Let me go run you a warm bath, yes” He asked, watching as you nodded from the corner of his eye a soft smile graced your lips at the thought. “...Stay with me?” You asked, glancing up at your husband. He let out a soft chuckle and kissed the side of your head, arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course, Dear.” He whispered out, finally putting those worries in your head to rest. He hated seeing that look in your eyes..the same look you gave him all those years ago in the bayou as he held you during your last moments. You looked so afraid then..but he wouldn’t make that same mistake again, he would make sure of it. Not even death could pull you both apart.

[crocodillyday]

Falin living was actually part of the winged lions curse because now she’s got a dragon bound to her soul and sick fucking dragon legs and you just knooooow she’s out there playing with all the cool monsters in the mud through her dragon connection while Laios can’t do shit and has to rule a continent or whatever. It’s killing him.

[cassafrassie]

the nerve - (also on ao3) length: 2,535 words rating: T (teenaged kissing)

This is the last time, the last time! Pacifica thinks as she's jumping into the passenger side of Dipper's beat-up old pickup. Next to her, Dipper slams his own door and quickly smacks the lock button, eyes scanning the forest beyond the wide windshield. 

"I think we're clear," he says, before spinning to Pacifica excitedly. “Did you get a load of the size of that guy?!” 

“I didn’t see much as I was a little busy running for my life!” Pacifica gasps, clutching her chest.

Dipper picks up his camera. “Oh man. This was a good one. I think I got some good shots,” he continues, flipping through the display.

“Dipper! He nearly killed us!”

“Oh Paz, we were fine,” he replies confidently, still looking at his pictures. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He looks up, reaches over and bops her on the nose, smearing more mud on her already dirty face.

The nerve.

Pacifica glares at him. He always gets like this after monster hunts. Dipper has a cocky streak that usually lies pretty dormant, but something about the shot of the adrenaline that he gets after narrow escapes makes it rise to the surface. At least that’s her theory. The worst part is that can’t pretend she totally hates it, even if it’s currently raising her hackles.

“I’m beginning to regret giving you that thing,” she says, gesturing to the camera.

“No you don’t.” He spins to her and points the lens in her direction. “Who else would take all those pictures of you for “the gram”?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. He clicks the shutter and Pacifica is blinded by the quick flash.

She rolls her eyes and pushes the camera away, but lets a small smile play on her lips. That photo won’t see the light of day. She’ll make sure of that. Both she and Dipper are absolutely covered in forest filth, and she makes a mental note to swipe the memory card before he drops her off at home later.

Dipper grins, thinking he’s won this round, and reaches behind his truck’s bench seat to place the camera in the rear of the cab. Twisting back, he fiddles with his keys and the ignition until the old clunker finally turns over.

Pacifica lets her mind wander as he navigates them out of the clearing he parked in and back to the main road. Picking leaves from her hair while she watches the trees pass by her window, she wonders why it is that he only lets this side of him come out when they’re alone. Dipper has come a long way from the insecure prepubescent boy she met five years ago, but he’s still pretty reserved and serious in mixed company. When it’s just the two of them, or the two of them and Mabel, it’s like he lights up. He’s sillier, more relaxed, more outspoken, more… is heroic the right word?

And it does things to her, to say the least. And they’re going to have to talk about it soon, because she strongly suspects he’s been feeling… things… too.

She started noticing it when their afternoon monster hunts began turning into twilight strolls around the lake, the two teen’s fingers brushing up against one another as they circled it. When hugs of relief after narrowly escaping death for the umpteenth time began to linger just a little too long. When he grabbed her hand while helping her down a steep rock face, and then held it the whole way home.

She knows a confession is imminent. That he’ll address the shift, the obvious destination they have been barreling toward with increasing velocity.

And sometimes she lets herself fantasize— because why not? She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, isn’t she? She’s allowed to have her little daydreams. She indulges in visions of confessions in a meadow of shimmering flowers. Maybe she’s wearing a long gown that fluttered in the wind. Maybe he brings roses and rides up on a white stallion and sweeps her up and into his lap as the orchestra swells and the credits run and…

Okay yes, she’s getting carried away. So sue her.

She chances a glance at him now. His eyes are trained on the road, hands responsibly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel, easy smile playing on his lips. He must sense her watching him though, because his eyes suddenly dart over to meet hers.

She meets his gaze, gives him a small, reckless smile that clearly carries a secret meaning that they just haven’t put words to just yet. She expects to receive the same smile from him, just as she has so many times before—and especially recently—but instead he just studies her seriously, and she can see the gears spinning in his mind. 

His mouth straightens into a determined line as his eyes snap back to the road. Without warning he twists the steering wheel to the right and Pacifica shrieks as he haphazardly directs the truck to a turnout overlooking the valley below. The truck bounces to a rough stop, and Pacifica snaps her head to look at him.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, more confused than angry.

He kills the engine, quickly unbuckles both their seatbelts and twists fully to face her. His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused. He honestly looks a little manic, Pacifica thinks.

Dipper takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens his them, he reaches a grime covered palm toward her equally dirty cheek. He smiles sweetly, and his palm cups her face, one thumb lightly tracing a path across her cheekbone.

“Paz,” he starts, smile broadening as he says her name. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not seriously doing this right now! Not like this! Not covered in mud and leaves and god knows what else, crammed in the front seat of his dilapidated old truck on the side of the road, heartbeat just beginning to return to normal after escaping whatever grumpy cryptid that was that they had woken early from hibernation.

Is he freaking kidding me?!

She watches her hopes of horseback rides into the sunset dissolve in front of her eyes. Disintegrated by the sweat, foliage and mud coating them both.

“Dipper! Now?? I look terrible!”

“I think you look great!” he says and the worst, most terrible part is that she can tell he is being completely sincere.

“I’m covered in mud, Dipper.“

“Maybe I like it,” he smirks, a move that Pacifica knows he thinks is charming.

“You’re a freak,” she deadpans.

Dipper leans in closer, looks her right in the eyes.

“Your freak?” He smiles, hopefully.

Oh my god seriously? He’s such a sap.

Pacifica groans and rolls her eyes, but she also has to fight to keep the corners of her lips from tugging into a smile. She can feel for cheeks warming, and she knows he knows.

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t qualify as a response. You’ll have to use English,” he teases.

“Fine,” she drawls.

“Fine what?”

She is going to murder him. MURDER HIM.

“Oh you know what!”

“I really don’t Paz, did you have something important you wanted to tell me?”

She wants to slap that stupid grin off his face. Or kiss it.

“Dipper!” she whines.

“Hey I’m just trying to get clarity here!”

“Dipper if this is your way of asking a girl out then it’s no wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend before. You’re impossible,” she says crossing her arms and straightening her back.

“Okay okay,” he laughs, settling down. “I’m sorry.” He turns to her, smile sweeter, more earnest. “Let me start over.”

He untangles her crossed arms, grasping her hands with his free one. She feels a shiver at the way his one hand can hold both of hers. When did that happen? She stifles the distraction as she refocuses on what he’s saying.

“Pacifica. You’re one of my best friends,” he continues. “You’re smart, self-assured, funny, a huge dork”— Pacifica opens her mouth to protest but he puts a finger to her lips—“you are, and it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

She scoffs, but lets him continue, cheeks growing warmer.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but that’s just the icing on the cake. Because the way I feel about you comes from so much more than that.” He takes a breath, rubs his thumb on her cheek once, and she melts a little. “Pacifica, I...“

Here it comes, she thinks. She gives him a small, encouraging smile, waiting to hear him say the words she’s been imagining in her daydreams, for him to confess that his “like” of her has turned into the special kind. The “like like” kind.

Pacifica figures maybe it’s okay that this is the way it happened. It’s more them. But still, she would have appreciated flowers maybe. She doesn't presume that his feelings for her run deep enough as to justify red roses, but pink maybe... 

“…I’m in love with you.”

Wait. What?

Pacifica's brain struggles to rewind and playback, and she ends up just blinking at him for a moment.

“You’re in love with me?” she asks, and her voice sounds so terribly soft to her ears.

“Yeah,” Dipper confirms, face bright red beneath the dirt.

“You love me?” she repeats.

“Yes,” he says again, laughing a little, nervously. But he nevertheless moves his hand from her cheek down to circle the side of her throat, pushing his fingers into her hair.

“No one has ever loved me before,” she says, matter of fact.

“Oh Paz, your parents love you. I know they’re tough on you but I’m sure—“

“No. No I mean like the different kind of love. Like, the voluntary kind. When you don’t have to love someone, you just do. When it’s not because of blood, or because you want their life, or clothes, or ponies. When you just like them. No one has loved me like that.”

He studies her a beat.

“I do,” he says, finally, firmly, not breaking the eye contact. Not taking his hands from her.

Her head feels light, and she’s vaguely aware of that he cheeks are wet. But then she surges forward, and crashes her lips to his, because she can’t not. There’s a magnetic force pulling her in a way she can’t control.

Dipper’s lips are chapped and crusted in dirt, but they’re warm and his she immediately thinks that kissing him is about to be one of her favorite pastimes, and why did they wait so long to do this again?? Dipper responds to her kiss instantly, opening his mouth and seeking entry to hers, which she grants without hesitation. The hand in her hair ventures up to grasp at the back of her head, pushing their lips closer still, as his other wraps around her lower back and tugs her closer to him on the bench seat. Her own needy hands run up his chest to grab the lapels of his flannel, holding him to her as she shifts forward and up on to her knees, eventually ending up straddling his lap. Dipper moans into her mouth and his hands move to grasp her hips, but then he stops, pulls back slightly and takes in a sharp inhale of air, letting it out slowly in what appears to be a practiced attempt to calm himself down.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Paz,” he chuckles, finally, leaning his forehead on hers.

“I could do more,” she says softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” He leans back in his seat, arms loosen around her waist but not letting go. A smug smile plays on his lips. “I’m winning the romance game now, anyway. You gotta catch up.”

She senses a challenge here, which she knows he knows will always pique her interest. She arches an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Well, I’m the one who said something first. In my book that means I’m leading you in romantic gestures.” He gives her a pointed look. “And confessions, too, actually. I might remind you.”

She laughs. “Okay, dork. I love you too. Even?”

“I mean technically I said I was in love with you. So, I still win.”

“Well I’m in love with you too, then!”

“No copy catting,” he says, grinning as his hands raise to her neck and he leans in.

Her giggles are muffled by his lips once again and she lets him push her back in the seat, tipping her backward until she pivots and is laying down with him hovering over her. He peppers her face with sloppy kisses and works his way down her neck, still a little grimy and sweaty, and Pacifica grins as she thinks that white stallions in springtime meadows might be overrated.

------

Later that night, Pacifica finds herself freshly showered and wearing some spare sweatpants of Mabel’s that she swiped while the latter is out at the movies with Candy and Grenda. She’s cuddled on the couch in the Mystery Shack’s living room, brand new boyfriend— also clean and smelling of mint and evergreen—next to her with a lazy arm stretched around her. She tugs up the blanket they share to her chin and tucks her face into the crook of his neck, kissing it lightly as Dipper begins stroking her hair.

“You know, the reason I’ve never had a girlfriend isn’t because I would suck at asking them out,” he says, after a while. “I happen to think I did pretty darn good here.”

“Settle down, Casanova, you got lucky this one time,” she mumbles, smiling into his neck.

He ignores this, persists in his point.

“You know the reason I haven’t had a girlfriend.” He says, turning so his lips brush the top of her head.

She does, but she wants him to say it. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Mmm?”

“Because I’ve only had eyes for one girl since I was fourteen.”

“And who was that?”

“Well I think you know her…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… gorgeous, witty, bit of a brat…”

“She sounds great.”

“Yeah, she sure thinks so.”

“What stopped you from asking her out?”

“Well I wasn’t sure how she felt for a long time.”

“I bet she was crazy about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she probably liked your courage, your heart, your smile, your cute floppy hair—“

A loud groan carries into the living room from the kitchen, and Stan strides into the room, making a beeline for the front door.

“Okay, you two have officially crossed over from sweet to gross. Let me know when the honeymoon phase is over, til then I’ll be somewhere where the air doesn’t cause my blood sugar to spike.”

The two teens freeze, then burst into laughter as soon as the door slams behind the old man.

Dipper turns Pacifica in his arms to face him.

“Well would you look at that. Now we have the house to ourselves,” he smirks.

“Look at that,” Pacifica agrees, grinning.

[therobotmonster]

I know I wasn't supposed to.

But I went into the woods.

Another me came out.

We seem to be equally suspicious that the other is the imposter. I keep checking him for roots and he keeps doing the same to me. Is it a double bluff? Is he gaslighting me into thinking I'm the neverwas thing and he's the human being with organs and anxiety? Is he truly unaware he's a mockery given shape? If he can be unaware of it, I can be too.

That's kind of a lonely thought, really.

-

It's been several days and the tests are all inconclusive. We both bleed normal blood that doesn't turn into a spider and jump to the ceiling when you touch it with a hot wire. We know the same trivia. We pretended to know the same stuff we forgot that we were embarrassed not to remember. We both got uncomfortable at the exact same time when we walked into the cathedral.

We arm wrestled and didn't tie somehow, but we weren't sure if winning meant he was more likely to be fake or less likely.

I worry that we don't really know anything about accursed other selves from the woods.

Wikipedia has been less than helpful.

-

Mom claims she knows which one of us is her 'first boy' but refuses to tell us on the basis that she loves us both and thinks we should get along.

He thinks she can't tell and is too embarrassed to tell us. I think its because she wants to double her chance at grandkids. The difference in opinion is interesting, but is it a sign of an imposter, or the divergence of our experiences?

-

We've decided to flip for the job. I won, so I don't have to find new work. I don't know if that's a win.

I think the curse is that neither one of us is an unnatural imposter out to kill the other. Or else whichever one of us is the monster has realized they don't think my life is worth killing to steal.

I know I think about smashing that copy of my own face open with a rusty fire axe, a gush of sea water and blasphemous screams roiling from the empty hole that should contain bone and brains, and it just seems like a lot of trouble and effort.

I think I'm going to start going by my middle name.

-

Another me just showed up on our doorstep.

He's caked in mud, sticks and twigs in his hair, babbling about harrowing experiences. I'm fixing him some tea while the other-other me hands him the pamphlet we made just in case.

Now he's telling us about the Night King. Like we don't know.

I need a bigger place.

[blueiscoool]

Gigantic Skull of Prehistoric Sea Monster Found on England’s ‘Jurassic Coast’

The remarkably well-preserved skull of a gigantic pliosaur, a prehistoric sea monster, has been discovered on a beach in the county of Dorset in southern England, and it could reveal secrets about these awe-inspiring creatures.

Pliosaurs dominated the oceans at a time when dinosaurs roamed the land. The unearthed fossil is about 150 million years old, almost 3 million years younger than any other pliosaur find. Researchers are analyzing the specimen to determine whether it could even be a species new to science.

Originally spotted in spring 2022, the fossil, along with its complicated excavation and ongoing scientific investigation, are now detailed in the upcoming BBC documentary “Attenborough and the Jurassic Sea Monster,” presented by legendary naturalist Sir David Attenborough, that will air February 14 on PBS.

Such was the enormous size of the carnivorous marine reptile that the skull, excavated from a cliff along Dorset’s “Jurassic Coast,” is almost 2 meters (6.6 feet) long. In its fossilized form, the specimen weighs over half a metric ton. Pliosaurs species could grow to 15 meters (50 feet) in length, according to Encyclopaedia Britannica.

The fossil was buried deep in the cliff, about 11 meters (36 feet) above the ground and 15 meters (49 feet) down the cliff, local paleontologist Steve Etches, who helped uncover it, said in a video call.

Extracting it proved a perilous task, one fraught with danger as a crew raced against the clock during a window of good weather before summer storms closed in and the cliff eroded, possibly taking the rare and significant fossil with it.

Etches first learned of the fossil’s existence when his friend Philip Jacobs called him after coming across the pliosaur’s snout on the beach. Right from the start, they were “quite excited, because its jaws closed together which indicates (the fossil) is complete,” Etches said.

After using drones to map the cliff and identify the rest of the pliosaur’s precise position, Etches and his team embarked on a three-week operation, chiseling into the cliff while suspended in midair.

“It’s a miracle we got it out,” he said, “because we had one last day to get this thing out, which we did at 9:30 p.m.”

Etches took on the task of painstakingly restoring the skull. There was a time he found “very disillusioning” as the mud, and bone, had cracked, but “over the following days and weeks, it was a case of …, like a jigsaw, putting it all back. It took a long time but every bit of bone we got back in.”

It’s a “freak of nature” that this fossil remains in such good condition, Etches added. “It died in the right environment, there was a lot of sedimentation … so when it died and went down to the seafloor, it got buried quite quickly.”

Fearsome top predator of the seas

The nearly intact fossil illuminates the characteristics that made the pliosaur a truly fearsome predator, hunting prey such as the dolphinlike ichthyosaur. The apex predator with huge razor-sharp teeth used a variety of senses, including sensory pits still visible on its skull that may have allowed it to detect changes in water pressure, according to the documentary.

The pliosaur had a bite twice as powerful as a saltwater crocodile, which has the world’s most powerful jaws today, according to Emily Rayfield, a professor of paleobiology at the University of Bristol in the United Kingdom who appeared in the documentary. The prehistoric marine predator would have been able to cut into a car, she said.

Andre Rowe, a postdoctoral research associate of paleobiology at the University of Bristol, added that “the animal would have been so massive that I think it would have been able to prey effectively on anything that was unfortunate enough to be in its space.”

By Issy Ronald.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (TEASER)

#full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, typical canon violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS

A/N: this fic is so long rn lol I just have to release a piece of it into the wild :sob: feel free to reply if you want to be tagged for the full story when it's ready

☆☆☆

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

“They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated. “They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

[soov]

TDWP　⌒   ✶　𝐎𝐎𝟏. capture the flag, sunghoon!　

warnings : wounds, blood, cursing.

Aphrodite’s favorite son panted heavily, the rustling sound coming from fallen, dry leaves playing with his messy senses. Blood oozed from the cut he got on his hand from fighting a monster moments ago. He felt his faux blond strands (that he took his sweet time to wash last night) stick to his forehead, mud and sweat covering them.

Park Sunghoon hated Fridays, and especially capture the flag games.

If only the camp director, Mr. Dawoon, was more considerate, then maybe Sunghoon’s life would be much easier.

Every Friday he would sit down at his cabin’s balcony, basking in the sunlight. His favorite pink mug with ‘Prada’s boy’ written in the middle would be filled with white chocolate peppermint tea. Not only that, but his pale skin would be covered by one of the glitter masks he stole from his friend, index pointing mockingly at the untidy demigod passersby. The blondie would be doing anything but falling on his butt in the middle of a forest.

“Jay was right. You really don’t put any of these muscles to use.”

After having his marvelous train of thought snapped in two, Sunghoon’s gaze quickly moved from his toned biceps to his two companions.

Jungwon, son of Iris, held what resembled a large sphere of light which reflected a rainbow, almost blinding Sunghoon. Standing proudly next to him was Apollo’s child, Sunoo, who aimed a golden bow at the older boy’s forehead.

“You’re absurd.” Sunoo snickered, not lowering the sonic arrow in a bit. “All of those workout routines and weird diets for you not to know how to fight.”

Rolling his eyes, the prince-like teen put up his arms to shield his vision from the glow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you help me up already?”

The duo laughed while watching Sunghoon reach out his slathered hand for them to lift him up.

“We’re on opposite teams, Sunghoon.” Jungwon mischievously grinned, ears catching the monsters’ screeches and yelling from afar. “We can’t help the losing cabins.”

“I’ll heal your hand once the match is over.” Sunoo assured before his body swiftly twisted to the side, an arrow being launched to the source of the sound. When he turned back to Sunghoon, he took his sword out of the sheath. “Move.”

“Shit,” the blond let out a groan in despair at their bloodthirsty looks. He consoled himself for not knowing how to throw some punches, and pointed out Jungwon and Sunoo as the origin of his problems. If the gods were truly kind beings, then they would help him out, right?

Before the youngest two could take a step forward, a thick darkness materialized around them and canceled the light coming from the sphere and bow. The situation only confirmed that Park was the dearest of all the Olympus’ immortals.

Sunghoon heard grunts and bodies falling to the floor as if someone took them down. What felt like a chilly hand touched his upper arm, and the sensation of being sucked into a black void consumed him. He screamed in shock as his stomach turned upside down, similar to how you would feel in a roller coaster. He thought that his limbs were being squeezed and swapped around in an insane velocity, until the light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

Breathless pants left his lips whilst he came back to sanity, clean hand clutching his chest in horror. He slowly opened his eyes only to be met with a gray zip-up hoodie on top of a chest armor. 

You — the owner of the hoodie in question — spun around to face Sunghoon, quietly observing his features.

“Are you okay? We just shadow traveled, if you didn’t know.” You spoke softly, focus set on his wide irises, and how his hurt palm rested on his knee, facing upwards. “Those two seemed ready to beat your guts up.”

He laughed at your weird choice of words while still lacking for air. “It’s because they were going to do that if you didn’t come to save me.”

Strangely enough, Sunghoon had never seen you around the camp, or if he did, he couldn’t recall it. However, something that he couldn’t pinpoint made him think that he had met you before. 

You offered him a small grin, which he accepted instantly, reciprocating it. Seeing how beautiful you looked without any effort, he mused if he was actually pretty like how colleagues would compliment him.

Which facial products did you use? Did you eat anything specific for better skin? Was your face all good genetics or did his mother also bless you with unlimited beauty? And the most important question: why was there a shadow around your form, and why did you seem so intimidating, yet so gentle?

The teenager got up, dusting himself off. He felt gross, though he didn’t let it stop him from reaching out an amicable hand for the second time that day.

“I’m Park Sunghoon, son of Aphrodite.” He spoke as if you and all the camp didn’t know who he was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for saving my life.”

You had to bite back a snort at his dramatic introduction, limiting your actions to an eyebrow raise and a blank stare. “Yn Ln. The pleasure is all mine.”

A familiar voice yelled out your name and you tsked, sharply intaking your surroundings to leave in the right direction.

“I think it’s better if we go now.” Gloominess began to pool at your feet while you saluted him with two fingers. “That scream was my leave. Go to Cabin 7 to get some treatment after the game.”

“Oh! Um– Yeah, will do.” The demigod nodded in astonishment when you didn’t complete the handshake. He didn’t care when it was his stinky friends teasing him, but it was different when someone this gorgeous rejected him. It was all because of his messy appearance. It definitely was.

You disappeared, and Sunghoon stood back, staring at the trees to gather his thoughts. He was determined to win now, and he would do his best to kill every monster and capture the flag. After that, he would find you again — he still needed to know what was your skincare routine.

Maybe Fridays weren’t so bad, after all.

past 𓏸 archive 𓏸 future

GENRE opposites attract, percy jackson au, smau | PAiRiNG park sunghoon & f!reader

© SOOV, 2O24.

[shegatsby]

Summary; Feyd has dreams and finally meets you, he is so overhwelmed by emotions that he paints a picture of you with his blood.

Words: 5. 143K

Warnings: War, fighting, weapons, kidnapping.

A/N: Hi guys! I had this one shot fic idea for a while, here you go. Let me know what you think. xxx It resembls your request to I hope you'll like it babe @ilikefeydrautha

‘’We’re under attack!’’  Your fellow Fremen yelled and with his voice everyone around you geared up in a second. Ever since the fall of House Atreides you have been in numerous battles with the House Harkonnen. At first Duke Leto’s son Paul and his mother Jessice were refugees under your roof, thankfully they grew accustom to your way of life and since then they have been a great help. With their help and strategy you and your people won every battle against Glossu Rabban, however, with the change in command you met someone new. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Baron’s youngest nephew. He was much more unpredictable than his older brother Rabban and much more vicious. One night, Jessica, now Fremens’ Reverend Mother, had gathered you and other important soldiers to give information about Feyd-Rautha and you felt your blood run cold even in the hottest planet in the entire galaxy.. he was psychotic. Since you were the daughter of a skilled warrior you were trained as such, and you had responsibilities; leading your people in these dark times. Unfortunately these dark times have been unstoppable.

The first time you had encountered him was at the desert.

You and your group had been trying to steal spice, well, it couldn’t be considered as stealing if it was your own planet.. the Harkonnen soldiers attacked. The open field had turned into a grave, crimson color spread on the sun dust sand which turned it into mud. After slaying a soldier you were pushed to the ground by a kick but you managed to get back up quickly, you were like a garden snake, swift and like liquid, but your opponent was a viper. He was covered in black head to toe but you could tell he was from a higher rank since he got some medals on his broad chest, a worthy opponent to kill and leave his body to Shai-Hulud.

You attacked but he pushed back, under the fire sun you fought, with his elbow he managed to punch back your helmet and it fell to the sand, your face exposed to him…

He didn’t attack but circled you like a predator who is contemplating what to do to his prey. He did something which surprised you.. he removed his helmet and tossed it aside. You took a step back in revelation, thanks to Reverend Mother’s description you knew who your opponent was… Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen himself. The monster who put you and your people in this situation.

Why wasn’t he attacking? His blue eyes under the sun gave the impression of two shiny diamonds, piercing through your skin like the heat. As he circled you and came to a stop he leaned closer, you didn’t know what to do or to say, he made sure to leave a safe distance between the two of you but he was much more closer than before. ‘’Pleasure to meet you, desert flower.’’

The ships to help Harkonnens were approaching and your commander ordered for you and other Fremen to fall back. As you ran you could feel his diamonds on your back, mapping you, his presence made you uneasy and questioning his behavior.. why didn’t he attack?

After meeting him flesh and blood you went to Reverend Mother Jessica, you were hesitant at first, she was on the ground, you could smell the spice coffee she had, the walls of her room held handmade carpets, Jessica’s baby bump getting more and more visible each day, ‘’Come forth young girl.’’ Her voice wasn’t the same as the first week she had been with them, more in charge and demanding. ‘’I am disturbing your meditation, I shall take my leave.’’ You said, regretting that you even went to her in the first place, you were covered in sand and blood, your face burning with embarrassment and the exposure you had from the sun, Jessica’s blue eyes were magnetizing, ‘’Sit.’’ She used the voice on you and you found yourself sitting in front of her, ‘’I’ve heard you had to fall back. What happened?’’ Jessica asked, her question had under tones of deep curiosity for something else.  ‘’We were ambushed.’’ You shortly replied. ‘’You have met him, haven’t you?’’ with the mention of him Jessica noticed the change in your posture, you were alert. ‘’Be not afraid child, he cannot reach you here. Now, pray ell. What happened?’’

You found yourself giving each detail to her.

‘’So chose not to attack you… how strange..’’ Jessica was more talking to herself than you, ‘’You are dismissed.’’ And you left without getting any explanation of answers.

Ever since that incident you kept battling him or his soldiers, you were so fed up with the situation that you prayed to Shai-Hulud to end this war one way or another… you would come to realize in near future that when one prays for something one should be specific.

The second time you have seen him was at the skirts of the palace which Harkonnens had built 80 plus years ago when they first sent to your planet by the emperor. How you loathed the man.

You and your team’s plan was to provoke the Harkonnens by bombing their walls, creating damage and most importantly pissing them off. You couldn’t finish planting all of the bombs because alarms started to go off but that was enough anyway, it was close to dawn. Your fellow Fremen were brave and fighting the enemy like drinking fresh water… insanely devoted.

A bulky man was your opponent, he had a war, carrying it both of his hands, it was so heavy that whenever he missed hitting you hit the ground you felt its earthquake. You didn’t want to imagine the damage it would inflict on you.. imminent death.

‘’She is mine!’’ you heard a man scream with a raspy voice and in a second the bulk man with the hammer lost his head with a swift blade motion, you jumped back and fell on your arse, the bulky man’s head rolling towards you, you pushed your body back to get away and you saw him. Feyd-Rautha just killed one of his solider and stepped on his dead body to come to you…

You kept slithering back on the sand, the sky was getting brighter with each minute, the heat getting higher. He used his heavy boot to press on your ankle and make you stop getting away from him and you screamed in pain and cursed. With his heavy boot still pressing on your ankle he knelt down to be on the eye level with you, ‘’Hello again.’’ His pale face made him look like he was sculptured by most talented artist of ancient times, his shiny eyes never leaving yours, he then looked at his hand which was holding the blade and then looked back at you. His hand came to your face, you didn’t have your helmet, only a dirty scarf covering your face, except eyes. How did he even knew it was you?

With the tip of the blade he cut open yours scarf and revealed your face to him, ‘’There she is.’’ His voice raw and dominant, it made you shiver in fear and curiosity.

Your ankle was hurting you but you held your face blank as much as you can, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. How could he look so calm and collective while there is a chaos surrounding him, Fremens and Harkonnens fighting to death. You tried to pull your leg but he didn’t budge and it hurt even more, ‘’Why so hasty desert flower?’’ he mocked, you noticed the smirk shaping on his plump lips. You refused to give in so you kept your mouth shut, didn’t want him to get a reaction from you. The tip of his blade traced the strand of your hair, his eyes observing your hair like it was the most important thing in the world. Why was he interested in your hair anyway? With his other hand he grabbed your hair and pulled your scalp, you yelped. He cut few strands of your hair, you froze in your state, he lifted his hand to show you, ‘’Till next time.’’ He got to his feet and left you there.

This time you didn’t go to her, the Reverend Mother came to you, you were in your room applying a soothing gel to your ankle. As soon as you saw her you tried to get up in respect, ‘’Relax child, sit down.’’ You did what you were told. She came to sit next to you on your bed, ‘’I’ve heard some rumors and I wanted to hear the truth from you.’’ And you told her what happened, Reverend Mother Jessica looked deep in thought, calculating. ‘’Maybe there is hope for us yet.’’ She said turning to caress your cheek, like a mother caring for her child, you didn’t understand the ‘’hope’’ in question but these were dark times and your people relied on hope to survive for centuries.

And you were under attack few weeks later of that incident. Guess the Harkonnes needed time to build back the walls you had bombed. But how could they find the secret siech you wondered. Was there a rat among you? There was no time to think, you geared up and left your room to fight, ‘’Get women and children out of here.’’ You told one of your men and moved to the battle, in the common area of the siech your men and warrior women were fighting the monsters, Harkonnen war drums were beating so loud and deep, you felt he vibration in your body. You could see the monsters with torches, burning the messenger birds, birds that you had been taking care of… you found yourself screaming in primal hate and you marched to the closest Harkonnen soldier to kill, you were so quick the man didn’t even see it coming. You sliced his throat like it was nothing and kept moving, slaughtering men after men with your lust for blood your fellow Fremen warriors got the courage that needed, your home was invaded and you had nothing to lose at this point. Or so you thought.

You climbed on top of a rock to see the battle field, you could see Harkonnens popping up from every whole like a bug infestation.

You could also see how your folk falling to the ground, monsters were too many and you had to do something about it and you heard the drums change rhythm. He was coming.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen marched in with soldiers on his left and right, slaughtering men who stepped on his path. He walked like a man who owned the entire galaxy.

You jumped from the rock to keep fighting, you either won or die among your people.

Soon you have come to realize that Feyd was after you, his soldiers were opening the way for him to reach you and you kept changing your location, ‘’Get her!’’ the battle scene was hectic, screams filled your ears, you were covered in blood, you weren’t sure if it belonged to you or someone else.

A hand grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back, a kick came to your knee to make you kneel, you screamed in pain and looked up it was a Harkonnen soldier, smiling down at you like an animal.

Feyd-Rautha came, focused on the man who was still holding you by the hair, ‘’How dare you touch her hair!?’’ his scream made you look at him, with a quick move he cut the man’s hand and the hand dropped, the solider screamed in pain and fell on his knees next to you and Feyd beheaded him.

The man’s blood splashed on your face, you closed your eyes to pray, he was going to kill you, you were sure of it. You have heard that he loved to play with his victims and then kill them, he had play with you long enough, it was your time and you welcomed death.

A woman’s voice was heard and you opened your eyes.

‘’ENOUGH!’’ Reverend Mother Jessica yelled using the voice, her hands up she was standing on the highest rock, ‘’Tonight we shall end this bloodshed once and for all!’’ her voice was so demanding and dominant, everyone stopped and looked at her, including Feyd.

‘’Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, leave our lands, let us harvest spice and end this warfare, and we shall give you what you want.’’

You didn’t believe that this animal could agree on something and leave you all alone.

‘’My terms are this,’’ he began, looking directly at Jessica, everything seemed off putting to you. Like there was something behind this scene.

‘’I will have 90% of the spice. I don’t want any Fremen at the city and outskirts of it. ’’ He said his terms,  Jessica nodded, ’’Then you shall have it. Tonight marks the day-‘’ Feyd caught her speech, holding the room’s full attention,

‘’And I want her, as war prize.’’ He pointed to your direction, you were still on your knees. Your breath caught up in your throat, your fellow Fremen looked at each other in shock, an outsider having a Fremen as a war prize? No way.

‘’Then it is settled.’’ Jessica’s words cut you like a hot blade, you were in hypnotic state, not understanding what was going on. Feyd held your arm to make you stand up and you started to scream like a mad woman.

‘’No, let go of me, no, no!’’ you screams could be heard outside of the siech. Over minutes you were placed on a ship and taken away from your home, your desert.

The doctor inside the ship gave you a glass of water and within seconds you passed out.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen boarded the other ship after he gathered his troops, he had to go back to Giedi Prime, his servants had already sent his belongings back to his home planet, and after tonight he had to go back, report to his uncle and take care of his business there, he had been in Arrakis long enough and since he had established a good spice deal there was no point for him to stay there. He laid on his bed and as he drifted to sleep his mind was on her and how he got her.

Feyd-Rautha was having his breakfast when he received a message, the language was foreign to him so he had to get it translated. In the message it said that Lady Jessica was willing to make truce in exchange of something they both need. Feyd had sent his spies first, he tracked Lady Jessica and they met in secret. At first he thought this was a scam but Lady Jessica had promised to him that they would benefit from this truce.

‘’A little bird told me you have taken an interest in someone… Is it true? If it is then we can come to an agreement.’’ Reverend Mother spoke, there was a safe distance between them, ‘’What if I have? What are you willing to give me?’’ he questioned, his neck moving like a snake, ‘’Leave us alone, have some of the spice so that your uncle wouldn’t get suspicious and you can keep her to yourself. How does that sound?’’

After their secret agreement she gave the directions to the secret siech and they staged the entire battle. If the battle wasn’t realistic no one would believe them.

Feyd didn’t know why but ever since he saw her he kept having these dreams, she haunted him day and night so much so that he found himself drawing her on a gigantic canvas, every time he got a pen and paper he found himself drawing her eyes, her mouth, her hands.. he didn’t believe in coincidences, the universe put her in his path for something…

You opened your eyes in a comfortable bed, the comfort made you question your surroundings since you weren’t used to it, your head was pounding like a hammer to a rock, you slowly sit and look around. You were in a big room, the walls were black, also the furniture, the bed you were in was bigger than your own bed and the fabric made it feel like liquid running through your skin, your hand went to your head and noticed the dampness on your hair, you smelled your hair and it smelled like roses.. when you noticed your lace night gown you jumped to your feet, it was long and had laces, you ran to the nearest tall mirror and looked at your reflection, you had bruises due to the fight.. yes the battle. You tried to remember what had happened..

The fight

Reverend Mother and Feyd-Rautha’s agreement…

Everything came back to you like a running stream…

So that wasn’t a nightmare, you were actually kidnapped and brought somewhere you do not know. You walked through the open doors of your room’s balcony, the sun was out but something was different. Everything looked black and white and you were surely not in Arrakis anymore, how long have you slept? Most importantly who bathe you and made you were this gown, as you stood there watching troops walk into the fortress you were trapped in you noticed how black the walls of the fortress, this wasn’t a friendly planet.

The metal doors of the room you were trapped in opened wide by two guards who were covered in black, a bald female servant walked in, her head was low, and in front of her there was an another woman who was older than the servant, she wore doctor’s uniform but it was also black like other people’s clothing. ‘’I am here to examine you, my lady.’’ You were standing on the threshold of the balcony watching them ‘’Lady?’’  you thought, ‘’Please sit.’’ The old woman said with an authoritative tone, she was also bald, you immediately moved away from them, you looked around to find a weapon but the room was so basic you started to panic, ‘’My lady, please calm down.’’ The old woman warned, you started to scream like a savage and threw the lamp on the nightstand by the bed you woke up in, the old woman covered her face with both of her hands, she was carrying a leather bag, ‘’My Lady please, I have to run some tests and give you hormonal vitamins to make you more fertile-‘’

You froze, ‘’fertile’’ for what? Your panic grew more in your stomach and chest, the room was suffocating you.

You wished you were on the desert, the scent of spice in your nostrils, riding a sandworm. You threw whatever you could find, you didn’t even utter a word you simply screamed at them.

Soon the doctor and servant left you alone, you could hear the heavy lock on the doors.

You were marching up and down when your doors opened again, and you saw him. Followed by the doctor and the servant girl again, ‘’My Lord,’’ the doctor began, they were watching you rather examining you like an exotic animal. ‘’She has been difficult.’’ The doctor said looking him but Feyd-Rautha’s blue eyes were fixated on you. He was in more casual clothing, his hand behind his back, he seemed more in his element here, ‘’Leave us.’’ His raspy voice made you shiver, with his order they left the room and when the doors locked you were alone with him.. in a room where you are trapped.

You didn’t say anything but watched him, he looked around, ‘’Don’t worry you’ll be moved to a better place once I get things done.’’ He was talking as if you were his friend or.. someone close to him…

You refused to speak. He was walking around the room, ‘’We’re in Giedi Prime, my home planet.’’ He began coming closer to you, you found yourself walking back slowly. Being in his presence was something you experienced before but it was always in a battle, he looked so calm and collective when there was no chaos.

He came to a stop when he noticed your trembling form, even though you looked sacred you had this fighter aura, he knew no matter what you would be ready. ‘’Let the doctor help you, I chose her specifically because I don’t want any man to touch you.’’ His confession startled you, his pinky finger coming up to your face to removed a strand of hair away from your face, ‘’More beautiful close up.’’ He was more talking to himself as if he was in trance of a witch, ‘’Let them serve you.’’ His eyes moved away from your hair to your face. And with that he turned and left, his march echoing in the room and halls of the fortress.  

You let the doctor and maids help you, your maids explained that this will be your room for a while, they emphasized on the word ‘’for a while’’ you watched the doctor injecting liquid in you so many times, you felt your body like a puppet, being shoved around by people around you.. well.. if you could call them people. What made you curios is that man and women were all bald, skinny and the fear in their eyes were showed you the menace of House Harkonnen. For centuries they brought nothing but suffering to the people they own. And you were one of them now, someone they own.. not even a someone anymore, just a relic to add  Feyd-Rautha’s collection.

‘’My Lady,’’ one of the girl approached, she had a black dress that showed her rank, she was a maid, you turned to her, her head was down, ‘’You can look at me’’ this was the first time in hours you have spoken which startled the poor little girl, she slowly raised her gaze, she had jet black eyes, ‘’If you would like to see the fortress I can escort you.’’ Her offer med you smile in pain, even the servants pitied you it seemed. ‘’I would love that.’’

Together you left the room you occupied, you have heard so many storied about House Harkonnen’s fortress but nothing compared to what your eyes witnessed. A magnificent jet black fortress, standing proud and tall in the center of the city, walls, floors were mostly made from obsidian, Harkonnens didn’t understand much of furniture and decorating but they knew how to be intimidating.

Guards were at every door, the servant girl showed you the throne room, it was a grand hall with a black throne and steps to reach to it, you felt the thin carpets under your feet, ‘’They are human skin my lady.’’ The girl explained and you could feel your body freeze in disgust, ‘’Animals!’’ you muttered under your breath, ‘’Can we please go somewhere else?’’

The girl took you to the courtyard, you were expecting to find trees or flowers, even in Arrakis some regions had desert plants but here… you found none. Just an open space with pearl white floors and statues, sitting places and guards.

‘’Follow me my lady.’’ The girl said and you followed suit, you walked back into the fortress, this was a prison and you were sure of it now, more than ever. Your heart yearned for your home, the smell of spice in the sand, riding your sand worm, your community…

What you noticed was that as you walked servants bowed to you, and they kept calling you

 ‘’My Lady’’

You weren’t a lady, you were just a member of a Fremen family who were powerful and influential. Your ancestors were fighters and so are you.

‘’My lady, please wait here, I will fetch you in a minute.’’ The girl bowed and left her in a small library, this must be a personal library. You walked around and read the titles of the books, some were in different languages that you don’t know, some Chakobsa, your native tongue.

You loved the smell of books and tranquility this room held, you felt at ease, as you were walking around you saw a door, it was slightly opened, something in you warned but your curiosity got the best of you and with caution you approached to the wooden door, you were surprised that this fortress had wooden doors because they were mostly metal or stone.

With your left hand you opened the room and thankfully no one was there. It was a small room, as soon as you entered you could smell the carpet’s scent.. it was spice, most likely came from your home planet. The walls were also wooden and dark red, by the wall you saw a huge canvas, it was covered with a dirty white sheet, near the canvas a set of brushes and painting materials were on display, you wondered who was the owner of this painting room.

Your Fremen senses were begging you to leave but your feet approached to the canvas and your hand grabbed the dirty sheet to reveal the painting behind it and what you saw made you take a step back and inhale in shock.

The painting was mostly finished, on the surface you saw Arrakis’s desert, sun was setting and you were standing in the middle, in your warrior suit and yet your hair was loose, as you observed the painting you noticed the crimson color on your hair, you got close and you could smell it.. it was blood. Someone was painting you and used blood to paint your hair… but why?

Even though the entire situation made your heart beat in fear you were also in awe of the painting. Whoever did it must be a great artist, the details of you and Arrakis were uncanny.

You and the painting version of you were staring at each other, you were captivated by the entire painting when you heard the sound of the door closing behind you and you jumped in fear. When you turned you saw him, locking the door and leaning his back against it, his hands behind his back, a strange calmness on his pale face.

‘’You shouldn’t be here desert flower.’’ His raspy voice was low and serene.

His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed the knife scars on his hands and wrists, ‘’I should thank your maids for they know how to make dresses fit you so well.’’

And you lowered your head to look at the dress they had made you wear, a dark blue dress with open chest and back, the cut on the chest would made any men lower their eyes on your firm bosom. The fabric was satin and to Feyd it made every male being on this planet to crave to feel it on you and he loathed that idea.

You noticed that he put the key into his pocket and his posture got tall, now his hands were in his pockets, ‘’Do you like it?’’ he mentioned the painting but you kept your silence, you never uttered a word to him directly and you could see it was driving him mad. He exhaled in annoyance, ‘’Until I met you I have never believed in fate, dreams or any prophecies really,’’ he began approaching to the tall window, his back was turned to you know, ‘’What I knew was that the world was black and white, strong and weak, dominant and submissive…’’

You walked away from the painting and put a safe space between you and him, even if it meant you would be at the corner of the room, ‘’Before I left Giedi Prime to govern Arrakis I had a dream,’’ you could sense how thrilling he was to tell you the story, ‘’In the dream I saw you, all I thought was that I had a dream of some random girl, and that was it… but when I saw you first time on the battle field…  when your helmet fell off I didn’t know what to do desert flower, there you were.. the girl from my dream.’’

‘’That’s why you didn’t attack me.’’ You gasped in shock, your folk believed in dreams and prophecies but you had never expected to find yourself in one. As soon as you spoke he turned to you with a smile, a brutal smile on his plump lips, ‘’Yes!’’ he exclaimed with such happiness it confused you, ‘’I have spoken to every Bene Gesserit that I could find and finally Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam came to my rescue…’’

He was starting to take steps towards you, your feet moved to the back and you felt your back make contact with the cold wooden wall, you felt the shiver but you didn’t know if it was because of the wall or his dark aura approaching.  He came to a stop, just few inches between you and him, you had to look up to meet his blue eyes, his eyes were naturally blue not because of spice and it was the first example you have seen in your life. You remembered the oceans Paul told you one night, if those oceans were true than they have a competition because his eyes were more alluring than any ocean can offer. Up this close you could smell his body, gun powder and mint, it was strong.

‘’I had to have you desert flower,’’ back of his fingers traced your cheek and you could feel your face heat up with the tender action. ‘’We are meant to be together. Can’t you see?’’ he started to sound irritated when you didn’t reply to him, you could only stare at his ocean eyes, he pulled you to face the painting, he was standing behind you, one of his hand wrapped around your waist and pulling you to his front body, ‘’Look at her, such a strong and wild creature,’’ he mentioned the painting, ‘’you and I, we are meant to rule Arrakis, two bodies one soul.’’ He had a point, you looked very courageous in the painting. His other hand went to caress your hair, you could feel his nose, smelling.

‘’Say something.’’ He said with a sharp tone, he turned you to face him, holding you by your upper arms, shaking you, ‘’Say something!’’ he raised his voice and when he saw how sacred you were you witnessed the sorrow in his eyes, ‘’I apologies you must be-‘’

‘’Yes.’’ You replied and his orbits grew large with satisfaction, ‘’I will be on your side.’’

''Prove it.'' he said desperately, you lookd around and found a tiny knife, you cut your palm looking into his eyes, and held his hand to cut his palm as well, blood was dripping but you didn't care. You entwined your hands together. With a pleaseing smile he leaned in for a kiss.

Thank you so much for reading. :)

[xochilexart]

Got pics of the boy! Really happy with how this one came out, especially the shimmery scales. I'm also really happy with how absolutely squelching he looks.

Tried to capture the color-shift properties of the metallics (Don't mind my shaky hand lol). I used a green/yellow paint as the base, then did a few layers of silver/magenta paint just on top.

The figure comes from the Monster Hunter: World board game.

More pics after the break!

Though the mud on the fish was part of the original sculpt, the base was mostly just flat. I decided to sculpt some more mud to go with the mud already on him! After painting I added some fake pooling water to complete the look.

My wife suggested I throw a little grass in the pools of water. It was the right choice tbh

Some details!