#then after i finish this mabel comes and bows to me which is her signal for ‘if you don’t take me outside i will do my business

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes it really feels like the world is conspiring to keep me from reading

[nautiscarader]

Nautiscarader's Wendip Week 2018 3: Combat

Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, Soos and Melody team up to rescue their friends. A brawl is surely brewing. Rated T for some mature innuendos and implications.

I'm gonna come out clean here: this fanfic is two years old. It has originally been written for "Seductive" prompt during Wendip Week 2016, except that year I got heavily depressed and barely finished three prompts. However, when I re-read it a few weeks ago, I discovered it was pretty much finished, and it fitted the "combat" prompt as well, so I decided to reuse it. I do hope you will forgive me that.

Wendip, Soos/Melody, Mabifica (mentioned), T, 4,5k

(Read on ao3) (read on FF) (masterpost)

Through deceptively calm waters, a medium-sized, white trawler cut through the thick fog that might have otherwise discouraged other sailors from going forward, but it was nothing to the ones aboard this particular vessel. For once, none of the passengers were actual, trained sailors, and more importantly, they were all determined to arrive at their destination as fast as possible, with one clear intention in their minds: to rescue.

Dipper Pines stood by the steering wheel, which was one just from the name. The fog wasn't a problem for the on-board GPS, though a skilled eye was still necessary to watch out for rocks or other debris. This is why Mabel, Wendy, Soos and Melody all stared ahead giving their captain warnings about oncoming danger. Or rather, they would have if any danger lied ahead. As far as anyone was concerned, it was a straightforward, almost boring route. But they all knew that something in these very waters was an obstacle so formidable, that even the combined minds and strength of both Stanley and Stanford Pines couldn't defeat it.

Of course, no one aboard had thoughts that ghastly. Communication with the Stan o' War II was cut off a bit more than a day ago, and it took all five of their closest friends and family less than few hours to gather resources, travel to, rent a boat and leave from the same port Stan and Ford sailed from almost a month earlier. Mabel insisted on taking the wheel - after all, she has spent last week or so preparing their welcome-back party, and awaited their tales more than anyone else, with the same curiosity and enthusiasm as if she was still thirteen.

But after she steered the ship in a manner so fast and reckless it almost sabotaged the entire trip, the feisty eighteen-year-old was delegated to climb to the only mast of their ship and from her non-existent crow's nest look further than anyone on board, whilst her brother took her place.

And sure enough, it was Mabel who spotted a small, rocky island and a wooden boat next to it on the horizon before it appeared on the radar.

The five adventurers gathered all at the bow, staring into the lessening fog, expecting to see their grunkles' ship in ruins. But to their surprise and relief, when their boat reached the shore, it became obvious the ship was not damaged in any observable way.  

Mabel readied her grappling hook, Wendy stayed on the board with her rifle, which she traded temporarily for her usual axe, and watched as the slightly older Pines twin shot her way to board the ship, landed swiftly on her feet, strode to the door of the cabin, and kicked the door to confront any enemies hiding there. But again, there wasn't anyone inside. The electronic devices were still on, recording the same position for the last twenty four hours, and nothing in the room indicated any signs of fight or accident that might have happened.

Mabel gave the other four signal, and they all followed her, about to see what hid in the bowels of the ship. However, that search gave them no more information on what happened to their grunkles than the previous one. Food crates, spare weapons and scientific instruments, all seemed intact.

This time, it was Dipper, who ventured forward along the island's minuscule coast and found an obvious place their grunkles would surely be in: a passage wide enough for more than two people, located between the two pillars that formed the majority of the rocky island, leading to an underground cave.

- Alright, guys. Me and Soos are going in. Don't follow us, it is dangerous in there. - Dipper stated matter-of-factly, giving nod to Soos.

He turned his back when three voices loudly protested.

- Woah, woah, woah, Dipper, what makes you think you can give us orders? - Mabel threw her arms in the air. - Yeah, Dipper, rule one in horror movies: don't split up. - Wendy accompanied her. - Or do you think that just because we're women you can leave us here and do the bravey-brave things yourselves? - Melody added mockingly.

Dipper sighed.

- No, it's nothing like that! - he responded - We don't want anything happen to you... - Oh, sure, and how many times we had to save your sorry arses? - Mabel barked back - We don't have the Y chromosome, "y" as in "Why would you think you're any better than us"? - For the record, I just think it's better if we get eaten than you guys - Soos interjected, which made Melody give the tiniest of gasps at the supposedly romantic gesture of her husband, until Wendy gave her a less-than-subtle nudge in the ribs.

The lumberjill stepped forward to separate the bickering twins.

- Guys, guys, listen - Wendy pushed them aside - Dipper, dude, I know you don't want to risk our lives, but if we want to save Stan and Ford, we need all the firepower we can have. As in, you need us. And we need you two.

Dipper looked deeply into his girlfriend's eyes, then into his sister's, and let out another deep sigh.

- How about this: if we don't return in an hour's time, you will follow. But you will also radio for help before that, understood?

It was time for Wendy, Mabel and Melody to exchange knowing looks, and with grimaces of reluctance still on their faces, they all nodded. Wendy and Melody gave their lesser halves kisses, Wendy fixed the rifles on Dipper's back, and with that, the two slowly walked down the narrow rocky corridor (which proved easy even for Soos). Once the lights from their torches disappeared, the three women quit their act at once.

- So... we wait twenty minutes and then we go in, right? - asked Melody - Right. - Wendy and Mabel responded, readying their weapons without so much as thinking of an answer.

The next third of an hour passed almost instantly. With no contact from the boys, three gals followed their steps, and entered the dark seashore cavern, expecting to be the rescuers of the rescue team. They thought that the walls would get more and more narrow, but the cavern slowly turned into an angled, helical corridor, which after a few dozens of yards became a staircase with occasional straightened lumps of rock and dirt working as steps or landings. The group moved silently, until Mabel pointed her torch at the sandy floor.

Melody was about to scream, but Wendy quickly covered her mouth; the beam of light revealed an old, dusty backpack with the remains of its owner still attached to it. The white bones shone in the light, bringing more questions than answers.

- That's not... is it? - asked Melody with a trembling voice. - Nah, it's too old. - Wendy quickly reassured her - But guys must have seen it. Why didn't they turn back? - Because they're morons?

Melody and Wendy exchanged a concerned look, agreeing with Mabel's decision. They hurried up, following the boys' footsteps, afraid of what could wait for them behind next turn. Their worries came true almost instantly, when Mabel's boot bumped into a metallic, rectangular object, turning it briefly on.

- Look! It's Ford's!

She picked up a tablet which for the last few years served Ford as his new, slightly modernised journal. The screen was cracked, and the battery was almost dead, but his writing was still readable. Wendy and Melody flocked around Mabel, trying to read Ford's notes.

- A "song"? A "trance"? - she read - What is going on? And what's an "iren"? - Dipper!

Before she could turn her head, Wendy rushed forward, screaming for her boyfriend. Melody followed her, leaving Mabel running last in line, trying to read without tripping over rocks.

- "...bird-like creatures, with claws and feathers, known throughout history for... using their voices to lure men"?!

She tossed the tablet into her backpack and run down the rocky corridor, towards the dim green aura coming from its end. Mabel armed her grappling hook and sprinted past her friends, and entered a large cave, ready to confront her opponents.

- Alright, you leave our morons a...lone?

Wendy and Melody arrived a second later, and were equally astonished by what they saw inside. They were greeted by eight pairs of eyes, though only four of them human. The rest belonged to large, scale- and feathers-covered creatures, with beaks and clawed appendages. The brief description from Ford's notes gave the gals a lot of mental images of what the sirens could be doing to Soos, Dipper, Ford and Stan.

"Having fun" wasn't one of them.

- Mabel! Wendy! I thought you'd never arrive!

Dipper waved at the three flabbergasted young women standing by the cave's entrance, examining its decor. They expected sacrificial altars, human skulls used as bowls and cups, or other ghastly elements. Instead, they noticed a huge flat screen TV, emitting the green light they saw before; Soos, together with one of the sirens stared at it, playing a video game, seemingly unaware of the women's arrival. Another siren was sitting with Dipper amongst a huge pile of multicoloured comic books and trading cards. In the back, they noticed a jukebox, snooker table and several comfy chairs, occupied by the two oldest missing adventurers, as well as two more sirens.

- Hello, ladies! - Stan shouted, sipping from what looked like a glass of whiskey. - Didn't expect you here! Care to join us? - Mabel! Wendy! Melody! - Ford looked from up the old, dusty tome he's been reading, putting it on the table. - What brings you here?

The three women once again looked at each other, trying to form a cohesive answer, which given the bizarre circumstances wasn't exactly easy.

- Uhm... To... Rescue you? - Melody begun sheepishly. - Yeah, that's why Dipper and Soos went here. - Mabel pointed to the boys in question. - And we also went to rescue them as well, since, well, they are who they are. - Rescue? - Dipper stood up - Can't you see, we're not in any danger. Come on, tell them, Isobel!

He gave his siren partner a quick nod to her feathered arm, and dragged her from her seat to face Wendy. The distinctively red-beaked creature gave what otherwise might be called a polite smile, though it hasn't improved Wendy's mood at all, and the fact that Dipper was already on first name terms with her definitely hasn't made her lower her rifle.    

The other three sirens followed her and flocked to the first one, until she spread her wings and bowed to the newcomers.

- Greetings, brave ladies! Welcome to our humble abodes. - she spoke in a sing-song voice. - My name is Isobel, and these are Mathilda, Ettiene and Fallaise. You have nothing to fear from us. - Oh, yeah? - Mabel retorted - Then why did you lure them all here? - Oh, we didn't lure them! - the siren called Isobel replied - These two gentlemen simply lost their way in the mist, and had to rest. And what would you you prefer: sleep in the boat, or in a nice cave by the fire with all the commodities? - And what about Dipper and Soos? - Wendy joined Mabel, doing another step forward, towards the blue- and yellow- beaked sirens. - The younger ones were weary as well. They are not as skilled sailors as their old... ehm, more experienced friends. - she corrected herself - And what else to offer them than some modern ways of entertainment?

A loud cheer reached the group, causing the sirens and the humans to look at Soos, waving his arms in the air.

- Yes! I got the first place! - he turned to Melody - Did you see this, honey?

Still staring at him, sirens didn't notice Mabel pushing their feathered bodies aside to walk through the barrier they created to reach her brother.

- Dipper, you can't be serious! They are sirens! - she shouted into his ear - They always lure people in. Not just people, men! - Oh, come on, just because they, unlike you, understand our hobbies doesn't mean they are automatically bad!

This was the last straw for Mabel. Her eye twitched, but she remained composed, and simply walked around the room, examining various bits of the odd décor. She circled the cave twice, returning to the same place she started from, with a sly grin on her face.

- These sirens are evil, exhibit A! - she shouted, grabbing the controller that used to belong to the blue siren - This one might looked like a skilled gamer, but behold! Her controller wasn't even connected to the console!

The siren shot her a cold stare, while Soos was stilled absorbed by his avatar on screen, waving a shining trophy with a congratulatory message written in broken English.  

- And these - she took the cards Dipper was clutching in his hands - They might look like the originals, with the protective cases and stuff... but they are mere reprints of the originals!

She ripped the card from the foil, exposing the modern back tucked behind the old-looking one.  

- And I would be very surprised if these bottles really contained a two-hundred-year old whiskey... - she said taking a healthy sip from the bottle.

The next moment taste and fumes of the alcohol burned through her throat, causing her to spit the entire gulp.

- Okay, maybe that was real.

As if on cue, the four sirens hissed, and four hypnotised men grabbed and shook their heads, as if they just woke up from a hangover-induced sleep.

- Mabel, what is going o- The Sirens!

Dipper screamed and ran towards the rest of the group, secured from the front by the three women. His grunkles swiftly grabbed two empty bottles of whiskey, expanding the armory brought by Wendy and Mabel. Unable to find anything for of her own, Meody resorted to Wendy's axe she held rather clumsily in her hands, never having to use one. Four feminine creatures bristled their hair- and scaled-covered heads and circled the adventurers, trapping them in a corner.

- Kids! We've been kidnapped! Uhm, elder-napped. Napped! - Grunkle Stan shouted - They lured us in with the promise of fair retirement system. I should have known that such a thing doesn't exist! - And then they've kidnapped us too! - Dipper added. - Yeah, no kidding. - snarled Wendy, keeping her eyes on the four creatures. - Uh, Wendy aren't you glad that we're alive?

A very short and sharp turn of her head gave Dipper an answer in a form of cold and angry "I-told-you-so" look, silencing him for good. Wendy readied her double-barrelled rifle when a red siren opened her beak-like mouth.

- Give us our men back - she hissed, stretching her wings. - Never in our lives, you feather-brains. - two bullets fell into the chamber with a metallic "click" - You wanted to steal my boyfriend! - My brother! - And my hubby! - Melody added, steeping in front of Soos, who took the entire situation with surprising calm, perhaps just because he was still going to use the controller as his weapon. - Ladies, I do hope you remember us. - Grunkle Stan peeked his head through the front row, only to tuck it back again when the red Siren opened her jaws again. - Curses! - she hissed - All we wanted were some male friends, who would help us, poor girls be like true nerds! Do you know how difficult it is to be mainstream if you're a woman in those times?

Mabel stepped to the despondent-looking siren, who took her fake glasses and smashed them with her claws.  

- Really? - Mabel scratched her head - Do you mean it? You just wanted to belong? - Mabel, I wouldn't trust them! - her brother shouted from the corner. - Yeah, says the one who trusted them. - Wendy snickered. - So... you didn't want to hurt them? - Mabel asked once again, lowering her grappling hook slightly. - Of course! - sang another one - How else would we then use them and feed to our future babies?

Silence fell in the cavern, as all eyes, human or not were now pointed at the green Siren.

- I shouldn't have said that, should I? - There is a reason we don't send you on scouting missions, Mathilda. Attack! - screeched the red-beaked one, and at once the four sirens launched themselves at the humans.

Many things happened at the same time.

First, a loud "Duck, Mabel!" boomed through the cavern, followed by absolutely deafening sound of Wendy firing her rifle. She missed, only narrowly singing the feathers on one of the Siren's head. Her actions, however, were more than precise. The echo of her shot made the rest cover their ears and confuse her opponents for long enough to start their escape.

At least two of the monsters around them begun shrieking, which Wendy assumed was the sound that took control of her friends' minds. Wendy grabbed her boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and rushed to the exit, slamming the closest siren in the beak, ending her song. She turned around to see if Dipper kept his hands over ears, and was quite happy to see his beaming smile, meaning that he understood her plan.

She couldn't say the same about Soos, who had to have his ears covered by Melody, resulting in her using her feet and elbow to parry sirens' attacks, which was, nonetheless, surprisingly effective, even if she could use the actual weapon in her hand.

Using her grappling hook, Mabel found her way to grunkle Stan's back, piggy-backing him to the exit. The same person that just a few minutes ago complained about being weak and left alone, dashed trough the wings and claws of the enemies as if his age did not matter at all.

Ford was the only one who kept his own hearing under control, at least on the other side of his metal plate. With one hand to operate, he used his slightly faulty laser pistol to defend their position, but with their wings, the Sirens were able to prevent the adventurers from reaching their destination. Their initial advantage diminished greatly when the group were separated; Dipper, Wendy, Melody and Soos made it to the tunnel entrance, leaving the rest still fighting.

- We have to keep them occupied! - Ford shouted, wrestling with one of the sirens, steadily advancing to the exit. - Grunkle Ford, do you have any tools with you? - Mabel asked, as she swung above the heads of the sirens, firing from her grappling hook one by one to keep herself mid-air. - I only have this, but what why how would that help? - he reached into his pocket and threw his Swiss omni-knife towards Mabel, when the trajectory of her flight coincided with his position.

One look on Mabel's face told Ford that his great-niece not only had a plan, but also told them what to do.

- Stan, we need to buy Mabel some time! - he shouted, hoping his brother would understand at least part of his words amongst the shrieks.

He did, and the very next moment Stan let go of his ears, ripped his shirt in half and with a roar he rushed towards the sirens. Meanwhile, working under the pressure of time, Mabel fidgeted with the knife's satellite setting, and jammed it into the video cable of the television screen.

- Come on, you ugly chickens! I sacrificed myself to worse monsters than you!

He was about to feel the pain of the claws on his chest, and the soothing, hypnotising melody of their voice in his head, but then, amongst their uproar, a new, much louder voice filled the cavern, gathering the sirens' attention. They all turned, and gathered around the flickering, booming TV.

The paused racing game was gone, and instead a much more rapid and violent one was being played, bringing the attention of not just the sirens, but humans as well, who at least temporarily ceased fighting with them.

- You know, I'm starting to feel ignored... - Stan grumbled. - And it was a pretty decent shirt! - What is the meaning of this? Who- who is playing that? - screamed one of the sirens, pointing to the screen.

A young, blonde face appeared in the upper corner of the screen.

- "It's me, WatchMeCry and this is another EXTREME(TM) and AWESOME(C) episode of my Heroes of Duty letsplay!" - the young man waved his hands towards the camera.

Somewhere above the crowd, Wendy noticed Mabel, swinging on the rope from her grappling hook, with a elongated device in her hand.

- Quick! While they're busy! - she gave command to Stan and Ford.

Allured by the screaming and whining of the streamer, the sirens flocked to the screen, completely oblivious of the fact that his exaggerated style of playing, cursing and reacting to the game were clearly staged. Mabel swiftly fell to the ground, leading her grunkles to the rest of the group, equally baffled by the young man's pitiful gameplay.

- Do people really watch it...? - Wendy raised her brow in disbelief. - I don't really play games, and even I know he sucks. - added Melody - That's the whole point!- explained Mabel, silently pushing the group out of the cavern - He has to be so horrible, so he can play more, do crappy commentaries and tell unfunny jokes!

As if on command, the sirens roared into laughter, following the blonde gamer's series of insults about his virtual opponent's mother.

- Brilliant, Mabel! That will keep'em interested for good. - Wendy cheered. - No it won't! - interjected Ford, interrupting Wendy's speech, and taking his futuristic device from his great-niece - Mabel, great work, but we have to make sure these monsters won't lure any other bystanders, like they fooled us! I should've known they wouldn't have a complete proof of Ziemann's hype-othesis... - he scratched his head in embarrassment. - First of all, grunkle Ford, it's on autoplay, they still have more than seven hundreds hours of his videos, and he keeps pumping them out daily. - Mabel continued - Secondly, once they find that this guy sells his face on t-shirts, and allows donations just to show a silly message on screen, they won't need anything else. Just look at them!

The fours sirens gathered around the TV screen, passing their snacks around, commenting about the gamer's hair, his unmistakable manner of screaming and his almost childish approach to losing, and the way he trashed his controller around the room. The once mighty monsters, now completely mesmerised by their own weapon left only long shadows on the cavern's walls.  

- But... their lives may put others at risk! - continued Ford, unabashed by that sight - Lives? Grunkle Ford, what lives? - Mabel spread her arms - Let's face it, these sirens ain't gonna sire anything for a long time.

The adventurers looked at each other, exchanging the nods, agreeing with Mabel's plan.

- But just to be sure, let's block the exit with a hu-uge rock. - Mabel winked.

The small port tavern in the town of Orstan had very few customers this time of year, so the late night arrival of party of seven, each demanding food and drink initially astonished the owner. But when the oldest two started spinning the tales of their sea adventures, the barman himself joined their table and listened to the wild and colourful stories.

Not all people around the table listened as eagerly as the barman or Mabel, who kept asking Ford to re-tell the same fight with double-headed shark again and again. Dipper Pines sipped the soda from his beer mug, staring into the foam forming on top of it, and only when Wendy gave him a quick nudge he realised she's not been listening to Ford and Stan as well.

- What's wrong Dipper? - I feel horrible, Wendy. - he groaned under his breath - How could I fell for the sirens trap? I've read about them! I knew their weapon! - Dipper, don't be so hard on yourself. - she put a hand on his shoulder - You guys have been hypnotised, you couldn't do anything... - Yeah, but that easily? - Dipper sighed again. - I told you that you mean a world to me, and no other girl would do the same to me... And Soos promised that to Melody in church. And we were both bamboozled by those four.

Wendy snickered, spilling ale from her mug.

- Okay, first of all, no one uses that word anymore. And secondly, look at Melody.

She pointed to the opposite side of the table, where the other shop assistant at the Mystery Shack curled in Soos' arms ready to fall asleep if not for Stan and Ford's story.

- Does this looks like a couple that is about to break up because of this? - No... - Dipper answered, and flinched, when he felt Wendy's arms closing around his stomach. - Yeah, and neither will we. - she gave his ear a gentle kiss. - So... you're not angry at me? - Dipper, you gawked at that beaked bitch as if she was the next wonder of the world, and she would have babies with you, of course I'm angry. - she kissed him again - But that doesn't mean I can't forgive you. After all, you're just a man. - Hey, what was that supposed to mean? - Dipper turned his head around and met Wendy's face beaming with a smile. - Why don't you show me?

Her low, alluring voice caused Dipper to spill his drink again, but this time, he grabbed Wendy's mug, gulped down a bit of heavy alcohol, and let his girlfriend drag him to their room.

Half an hour later delightful stories told by Ford and Stan turned into singing contest of loud and obnoxious shanties that drove Mabel mad. And with both Soos and Melody as well as Dipper and Wendy gone to their respective beds, she gulped down another mug of beer, hoping it would make her asleep here and not have to be sandwiched between their noisy rooms.

- I wish Paz was here...

The whole premise for the story was, of course, the "fake gamer girl" cliche, and often associated with it mistakes like disconnected controller/turned off console/lack of cartridge often shown on some poor photoshops that were supposed to market that demographic.

Isobel, Ettiene and Fallaise are names of three Hagravens from The Elder Scroll games; they appear in Bloodmoon, Morrowind's DLC and later in Dragonborn, Skyrim's DLC.

"WatchMeCry" is, for those who have been living under a rock - just like those Sirens - a parody of "colourful", shall we say, streamers like PewDiePie.

Ziemann's "hype-otheosis" is a joke on famous, (currently) unproven Riemann's hypothesis.

Orstan is a parody of a port town in Oregon called Orford.

[wamaiiwoods]

Reverse Falls 

Written by: an incredible anon

(nsfw)

“Mediocre,” Mason spat under his breath, watching his sister smile toothily at the cheering audience as she pulled a knife cleanly through her neck. It was a pathetic illusion; he could do so much better, but she never gave him the closing performance, took all the glory for herself and left him to brood in the shadows of the wings until she signaled him on stage to bow with her.

 As if she deserved even half the applause erupting from the idiot masses.

 But no matter how much he wanted to leave her hanging high and dry (from a not so metaphorical noose), he couldn’t. Unless, of course, he wanted to provoke Stanley’s ire which was always made worse by his and Mabel’s little “peas of a pod” thing they had going. He knew it all to be a farce. Just as he played Stanford in the hopes of usurping control of the company one day, so too did Mabel dream of slipping up during their rehearsals to leave Stanley either in pieces or a pool of his own blood. Probably both, he speculated silently as he marched robotically on stage, took his congratulations next to his twin, and stalked off again.

 He’d have to answer for his attitude at some point or another, but presently, he really needed to beat something in.

 The mirror in his changing room momentarily sufficed, and he quietly considered the spider web shattered perfectly in the center of the glass as he rubbed his bruised knuckles. It wasn’t enough, though, and he quickly shrugged off his cape and feathered cravat, took a second to smooth his vest in the multitude of reflections similarly grooming themselves, then hurried from the room, making haste as Mabel’s shrill voice sounded from around the corner.

 He’d deal with her in due time.

 For now, though, he needed another outlet.

 *

 Taking care to keep to the less frequented hallways, Mason made his way to Stanford’s office. As predicted, his uncle was absent from the room, and he slipped soundlessly inside, casting a lock charm on the double oak doors in case anyone decided to pry. But no one came in here without Stanford’s invitation. His uncle would also be preoccupied for at least the next hour running numbers with Stanley and listening to Mabel’s bullshit lies about how cruel Mason was treating her. Stanford wouldn’t care in the slightest, but Stanley would lose it if he made that apparent.

 Either way, the rest of his relations would be too busy to actually come calling for a while yet, a fact that made Mason feel marginally less dour as he approached Stanford’s desk.

 Running his fingers along under the edge, he found the small keypad almost indiscernible flush against the wood, tapped out the code he’d discovered after only three tries that first time, and smirked satisfied as a soft click sounded followed by a faint rush of air. Spinning on his heel, he hung his hands by the thumbs from his pockets and strode toward the west wall where a door-shaped section had sunk in, pushed it open fully, ducked inside, and closed it with practiced, silent ease.

 “Hm.”

 He hummed in low consideration as he looked around the room.

 The books had been rearranged again. More of their pages littered the ground, some crumbled into macabre facsimiles of origami, others shredded completely and strewn to resemble runes that were useless without the proper magic to fuel their symbolism.

 Another futile attempt at escape, Mason thought, grinding the crude constructions underfoot as he leisurely approached the center-most piece of furniture that was the most obvious testament, if that’s what you could call it, to Stanford’s sick, obsessive ego.

 It wasn’t just this desk (an ostentatious black walnut trimmed in silver and moonstone embellishments); the whole room was outfitted to Stanford’s taste with a dash of the contained prisoner’s own preferred aesthetic. Though almost completely obscured by the eviscerated books, the dark marble of the floor still gleamed through in some patches, freckled with flits of white and grey with barely a seam to be seen where the tiles had been set, the dark expanse ceasing only where stone met walls painted a deep mauve. To the right was the bed, disheveled as always, goosedown perpetually hovering about the satin draperies canopied above as though it had been hexed to stay there for an eternity. And it probably was.

 Then to the left, the window, the only portal to the world beyond.

 Mason approached it cautiously.

 Window really wasn’t an adequate descriptor. It was just the south wall comprised entirely of reinforced glass, the signals glowing as Mason placed his palm against it and peered down twenty stories below. The dizzying height pulled his stomach through his feet and back up to his throat, and he stepped away, laughing cautiously.

 But it wasn’t just him laughing, a low giggle gradually increasing in pitch and resonance as Mason turned around to see the room’s only other occupant slowly peeling himself away from the concealing darkness of the furthest corner.

 “Tough day with the, Sissy?” Will goaded, eyeing the young man over.

 “Unbearable,” Mason replied, easily finding his composure and crossing his arms as he rested his back against the window. The signals flared again in response, and he was wreathed in baby’s blue that made his teeth glare as he gave the demon a brutal smile.

 “When are you just going to kill her?” Will said, the chains of his shackled wrists chattering as he slouched dramatically, tilting his head too far to one side and leering at Mason. “’D make things so much easier for the both of us.”

 “Oh what, you don’t like our time together?”

 Mason kicked off the window and moved toward the demon.

 “Ah-hah,” Will shrank back, though his elation failed to falter entirely. “Exactly opposite, kiddo. Just a bit eager to oust the competition already.”

 Mason had heard this speech before, but he never could refuse flattery, even from the most prolific liar this side of his own family’s dishonesty. So he let Will continue.

 “We both know it’s lo-o-ong overdue,” the demon said, straightening himself and meeting Mason’s mostly indifferent stare eye to eye. “Not even sure how you put up with it sometimes. Sucks to be second rate to some cunt’s parlor tricks, doesn’t it?”

 Will took a step closer.

 Mason remained where he was, nothing but cold calculation in his expression.

 “We’d do it together,” Will had begun to pace now, walking slowly to the left. “I’d take care of Stanford, and you just get the others. Drug ‘em if you need, and I can finish it.”

 His words passed Mason’s ear, just a whisper now that stroked his spine from neck to tailbone.

 “We’d finally run this place.

 “Together.”

 Before the sigh poised on Mason’s lips could be released, the demon sprang, throwing his arms over the young man’s head and lashing his chains around Mason’s throat, wrenching with devastating strength, slamming his own back against the wall and Mason’s back against his chest as he strained and tightened his hold.

 “Just like this!” The demon panted in his ear. “It’s that fucking easy!”

 Instinctively, Mason started clawing at his throat, trying to slip even one finger between chain and flesh. When this immediately proved pointless, he focused his efforts on attacking the demon, reaching behind as best he could and scratching, pulling hair, slapping, anything to subdue Will.

 But the demon’s hold was steadfast, and un-oxygenated black fuzz steadily encroached on Mason’s swimming vision and ragged coughs.

 Just as unconsciousness seemed inevitable, the pressure abruptly released, and he collapsed at Will’s feet, heaving raw gulps of air, hacking them out again along with spattering of blood that disappeared against the floor’s complexion.

 “Ba-astard,” he wheezed. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

 “No you won’t,” came Will’s reply, and he crouched down, patting Mason’s curling and uncurling spine as the young man continued to retch air. “Because we can’t do that until old Stanford’s outta the way. Once that geezer’s gone, I will delight in disemboweling you, but for now we gotta play it cool, capiche?”

 Mason stilled for a second, neither breathing nor speaking. The fingers of his right hand trembled against the marble, and with a deft movement, he sent his fist smashing into Will’s left eye.

 Reeling from the force, the demon crashed onto his back, and Mason was on him in an instant.

 “Do you realize how hard it’s going to be to cover this up!” He screamed, yanking down his collar to reveal the swollen, red imprint the chains had left. “What if Stanford sees! What the fuck do I tell him!”

 He grabbed Will’s own shirt and brandished his fist again, but the demon didn’t even flinch. The only tell of his terror were the heavy tears streaming down his temples, but he was also grinning madly, so Mason wasn’t taking any risks.

 “I could kill you right now,” he hissed, lower his hand and materializing a thin, silver pick between thumb and forefinger. “I know how. I’ve read Stanford’s journals. And I could just say you got loose. No one would ever question it.”

 “Oh but you’d miss me, kid!” Will sang cheerily, tears still pouring, eyes now completely indecisive, unsure if they should meet Mason’s or stay trained on the pick.

 “You’d miss all the fun we have together, our lessons and magic and…”

 Will lowered his eyelids to a tempting gaze, and, with hands Mason had unwittingly left free, reached down…

 “You’d miss this, too, wouldn’t you.”

 Mason made no move, the anger twisted on his face untangling into an impassive stare. Slowly, he stood, brushed himself off, fixed his mussed hair, then motioned for the demon to stand, as well.

 Will did.

 Still smiling seductively.

 He knew exactly how to play his hand against this boy.

 And then there was a knife between his ribs, cold metal freezing in his cold blood, and he staggered, but Mason had a firm grip on his waist, held him tightly as he guided the demon to the bed. There, he took a hold of Will’s chains before promptly letting him collapse to the floor while he sat himself on the edge of the plush mattress, placidly watching as the demon winced and gasped and tried to embrace himself to alleviate the pain, but he had Will’s hands firmly secured overhead.

 “It takes a special kind of arrogance to think I’d miss you,” Mason finally said, nudging the handle of the blade with the toe of his shoe, seeing if he couldn’t just push it a little deeper.

 “You would,” Will wheezed, coughing up a thick glob of blood before lifting his head.

 Hair already plastered to his forehead, eyes red and swollen especially where Mason had struck him, whole body shivering at the wound he wouldn’t be able to heal unless Mason allowed it...

 Goddammit he was right.

 He really would miss this.

 Mason didn’t vocalize this, of course, instead rose again, forcing Will to do the same as he pulled the demon’s bonds. With a flick of his fingers, he manifested another length of chain, looped it through Will’s and around the horizontal canopy beam at the foot of the bed, successfully securing the demon on his feet for as long as he needed.

 Will protested with feeble grunts and whimpers, all the while crying silently and smiling like he was the sun in some child’s nursery rhyme, but neither demon nor man said anything.

 Mason did hum quietly, though, as he removed his vest, unbuttoned his shirt and coaxed the tails from his trousers, folding it neatly on the bedspread before doing the same for Will. It was harder what with the knife in the way, but Mason tore a wider hole around the entry wounded fabric and slipped the garment off, pressing the fresh bloodstain to his nose and inhaling deeply.

 “Th-that’s real sick ya know,” Will stuttered, stomach tightening as Mason sat back again and examined the skin of his naval. “Not even Stanford’s got a blood thing, ya creep. Consider yourself all kinds of fucked up!”

 Mason paused, palm nearly flat against the demon’s abdomen, and glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

 He made to open his mouth with an equally smart retort, but decided against it at the last second, and both Will’s knees and voice gave out as Mason ripped the knife from its perch and replaced the blade with his own tongue.

 Good thing Stanford made this room soundproof, the young man thought to himself as he probed the wound, flexing his tongue, widening it, flicking, curling, tasting the acid that flowed through the demon. Really, Mason didn’t have a blood thing. He just had a thing for Will’s.

 “Th-that fu-ucking hurts you know,” the demon in question panted, trying to squirm away from the intrusion in his chest, but Mason’s powerful hands latched onto his hips and held him in place.

 “If you w-wanted to eat something,” Will continued, trying to find some sort of upper hand, “shoulda just gone down on your sister.”

 That had Mason’s attention and then some, and he slowly extricated his tongue, laving it over Will’s chest as he straightened himself and leisurely cocked his head.

 “Unless you don’t mind’f I do,” Will sneered, using all his energy to steady his words.

 Still silent, Mason closed his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly.

 “Th-that’s too bad,” the demon continued goading. “I’d probably have her squirming just like you.”

 Still silent, Mason removed his hands from Will’s waist and massaged at his temples, and the demon had the audacity to laugh as though he really had any sort of upper hand.

 “Let’s say we put all this aside and get to that. You know I love all those little noises you make.”

 “But what about you,” Mason offered softly, visibly brandishing the knife this time before carefully sliding it back into the weeping hole just below where Will’s heart supposedly was.

 “What about you.”

 In one, fluid motion, he was poised behind the demon, mouth latched to the skin behind Will’s right ear, one hand racing on fingernails along his stomach to the band of his trousers, the other toying idly at the handle of the knife.

 And, indeed, the demon’s response was orchestral, high to low to needy to guttural, and Mason ran his tongue over Will’s damp cheek, savoring the salty heat before growling in his ear, “What am I going to do with you.”

 “Hn-ah,” the demon gasped as Mason bit down hard on his shoulder. “H-hopefully something depraved,” he finished, shuffling and bucking his hips forward as Mason worked off his belt and slid his hand down, palming and pressing and teasing.

 He was always such a goddamn tease.

 “N-nice one, kid,” Will gasped, throwing his head back and exposing more throat for Mason to mar.

 Which he did ever so graciously, turning the demon’s neck into a Rorschach patchwork.

 “F-hah, real nice,” Will breathed, footing coming loose as pain and pleasure amalgamated.

 “Mm,” was Mason’s reply, his fingers, the ones fiddling with the knife, splaying out to explore more of Will’s chest as he continued tasting the pulse beating against his lips and teeth.

 “Sh-should get in on this,” the demon said, still hoping to maintain his composure over Mason’s, “see what th-these can do, eh?”

 He shook his chains to indicate his bound hands.

 “Don’t worry about me,” Mason reassured, smirking as he placed a quick kiss to Will’s cheek. “Just let me take care of you, hm?”

 Both hands moved to Will’s trousers, one methodically undoing each button, the other carefully taking the demon’s dick and giving it a few strokes.

 Will whined at the rough friction, tried to pull back, but Mason stopped him, pressing his hips forward, just barely grinding his own erection against the demon’s ass.

 “Looks like I forgot something,” he said conspiratorially and promptly shoved Will’s mouth full of as many fingers as he could fit.

 “Better get them nice and wet,” he said, curling them against Will’s tongue as he continued to tease his cock. “Unless you want me to fuck you dry.

 “Or we can use this,” he let go to smear his palm full of the blood oozing down the demon’s chest. “I’m really not picky.”

 Will said something he didn’t care to understand, but immediately there was an abundance of saliva as the demon worked his tongue desperately - fondly, almost.

 Mason shivered pleasantly at the obedience.

 “Think that’s enough,” he said after a few seconds, freeing the demons mouth who inhaled gratefully, immediately exhaled in a loud gasp as Mason grasped his dick again.

 “I can’t believe how much Stanford wastes with you.”

 “H-horrible, aint’ it?” The demon breathed heavily, the pain wracking his chest and wrists growing dull as Mason stroked him, rubbed his thumb in all the right places, applied pressure until he almost couldn’t stand it, released, repeated.

 “Old prick probably couldn’t even make you come, though,” Mason spoke against the sensitive skin behind Will’s ear. “Not like I can, anyway.”

 Suddenly, all contact ceased, and the demon’s legs nearly gave again.

 “Such a little slut,” Mason laughed, quieting, though, as he stood back a moment to admire Will’s state.

 All muscles in his back stood out, shoulder blades locked together and spine arched inward, the dimpled ravine it created glistening with perspiration. Circling round revealed an even lovelier sight, the demon’s eyes closed and brows pinched in frustrated need, stomach caked with drying blood, chest tight and nipples hard. He reached out and rubbed the pad of his thumb against one, and Will hissed.

 “I really do love you like this,” Mason said. “I could do anything to you, and you’d beg for worse.”

 “Wait till I get my hands on you,” Will threatened weakly, swallowing a moan as Mason grazed both nipples with his nails.

 “Oh?” He asked, grinning. “And what would you do?”

 “E-everything,” the demon choked out, grimacing as he locked on to Mason’s gaze, his eyes blazing despite his agonies.

 “Lemme guess,” Mason said. “Have me on my knees and all that?”

 “Easily.”

 Mason leered, “Well if you insist,” and dropped to the floor, sitting back on his heels.

 “Then what?”

 But Will just glowered, breathing hard through flaring nostrils as his body tensed in anticipation of whatever abuses his tormentor was soon to inflict.

 “C’mon,” Mason teased, waltzed his fingers up the backs of the demon’s calves, around his thighs, further up.

 “Nothing you can think of?”

 Will gave a low groan as Mason took his cock again, leaned forward and opened his mouth wide to let out a hot breath against hotter skin.

 “Nnnn…”

 He was caught almost unprepared as the demon suddenly thrust his hips forward, nearly choked, but his throat promptly widened like so many times he’d practiced, and Mason took it all, swallowing Will’s dick until his nose was pressed to the demon’s stomach.

 Neither wasted anytime, Mason working his tongue in time to Will’s movements, and slick, wet noises filled the air only marginally quieter than the demon’s low moans.

 It was a rare occasion that Mason knelt for Will, but when he did, he spared no expense reminding the demon just how fucking good he was.

 “Fuck.”

 Mason grinned again as he pulled back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and got to his feet again.

 “Gave you a little hint there, hm?” He said, lifting Wills chin and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “But I don’t want to give you all your ideas. There must be something you’d like to do to me.”

 “One day,” the demon growled, “I’m going to tear you open.”

 “Oh what, like this?”

 Will had almost forgotten about the knife in his chest, but was swiftly reminded as Mason ripped it out again and proceeded to slash his slacks to pieces before resuming position behind him.

 “Or like this.”

 The blade clattered to the floor as Mason hoisted up Will’s left leg, taking a moment to caress from his inner thigh to his calf and back again before ensuring a rough, sturdy grasp at the back of the demon’s knee, effectively exposing Will just as he needed. Realistically, it would be easier to just summon some rope or more chains, but where was the fun in that? Where was the intimacy? He needed something visceral - blood and flesh and sweat, not another facade; he put up enough with that already from the rest of his vile relatives.

 And this was not, this was everything that could never provide for him. Will was his anchor and his vice, his indulgences and regrets and desires…

 “Do you want to fuck me?” Mason asked, almost innocently, working at his own trousers and finally freeing his erection. “Take me up against the wall? The window? Bed seems a little pathetic even for you.”

 Will shook as Mason talked, flinching at the sound of a bottle cap opening, the sensation of cool, slick fingers prepping him. His whole body vibrated with anger and shame and lust, and if only he could free his hands, he’d reach around and smash Mason’s face into one of the bed posts.

 “I know you do.”

 Will closed his eyes, bracing.

 “I know more than anything what you want to do.”

 With a quiet groan, Mason pushed into the demon, the two of them still for a moment, easing into it as though it was the first time Mason had bent Will over, slammed his face on the desktop and fucked him long and slow and demeaning.

 “You’re mine, now,” Mason had told him, infuriated that Stanford was keeping such a secret, angrier still at the implication that no one was smart enough to discover and claim it their own.

 Once more, he made apparent this exact sentiment as he began to roll his hips forward.

 “You do what I say, what I want.”

 He reached around and grasped Will’s dick, pumping it as he ground against the demon’s ass.

 “Is that clear?”

 Through the cacophony of skin hitting skin and deep, throaty moans and whimpers, Mason didn’t hear the creaking of wood splintering, but Will did.

 “I said,” Mason iterated, slamming his hips forward, back, “is. That. Clear?”

 “Crystal,” the demon breathed, and then threw his body down with as much force as he could muster, effectively snapping the beam securing his chains in half, sending the two men tumbling to the floor.

 Will was up in an instant.

 “I do have a few amendments,” he growled, yanking Mason to his feet by the hair before shoving him onto the bed.

 “First, stop being such a showy little twat, doesn’t suit you.”

 Murder in his eyes, Mason made to sit up and reel back a fist, but Will quickly backhanded him before he could even get on his elbows.

 “Second, I’m nobody’s, least of all your little fuck-toy.

“Third,” grabbing his shredded shirt from the floor, he straddled Mason, wrestling his wrists together and binding them with the soiled fabric and pinning them above his head. “Stop acting like ya gotta be in charge all the fucking time.”

 Will leaned close, sneering cheekily as Mason bared his teeth.

 “Lemme take the initiative sometimes, eh?”

 With that, the demon reached behind him and took hold of Mason’s dick, shuffled his hips flush, and achingly sat back.

 The effect was fascinating, Mason’s subtle struggling ceasing entirely as the muscles in his straining arms relaxed. Will still held fast to his wrists but allowed himself a little less composure as he found a rhythm that had the man beneath him huffing through his nostrils, apparently not daring to grant his clenched jaw any reprieve just yet.

 He’d fix that, and a smooth roll of his torso as he bottomed out had Mason gasping.

 “Hahnn, see?” The demon said. “Kinda nice to let someone else take the reins for a bit?”

 Daring to let go of Mason’s wrists with one hand, he brushed back some of the hair stuck to the man’s forehead and pressed a kiss to his birthmark.

 Unfortunately, this was just the window Mason needed to wrench himself free of the demon’s grasp and wrap his wrists around Will’s neck, holding him in place and very, very close to his blazing eyes.

 For a solid minute, neither man nor demon moved, or breathed, and then Mason spoke.

 “I’m going to kill you one day.”

 “Looking forward to it,” Will replied, lips a hair’s breadth from Mason’s. “But let’s enjoy each other a little before then.”

 The kiss was heated and messy, the demon shoving his tongue as deep as he could, swallowing Mason’s moans as he began moving his hips again. They broke the osculation with a shared groan, and then Will straightened himself, anchored his hands on Mason’s thighs, and ground down as hard as he could withstand.

 “Fuck!” Mason cried, abandoning all reserve and throwing his head back.

 Were he not currently occupied with such overwhelming stimulation, Will might have said something clever at the man’s reckless abandon. As it were, the two were lost to their carnal pleasures, their whines and gasps crescendoing in a depraved symphony the cadence of which was a soundless cry from them both when they came, bodies throbbing and tightening and spasming, leaving Will to collapse fully against Mason’s chest, and Mason to stare placidly at the draperies overhead.

 Eventually, the latter realized nearly an hour had elapsed and that Stanford might return any moment, and he hurriedly shoved the demon off of him and dressed. There were horrid wrinkles in his slacks (if only he’d thought to remove them fully), but thankfully no stains. Really his hair was the worst for its wear, but a quick combing through with his fingers had it more or less presentable.

 “Going so soon?” Will asked, lounging languidly on the bed as he watched Mason.

 “Oh don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”

 “Mm, can’t wait,” the demon sighed, licking his lips.

 “I am going to kill you,” he called as Mason made to leave. “You know that, right?”

 Mason paused at the door, palm resting just above the exit sigil that sealed it, and looked back at the demon sprawled without a care in the world, his lithe body gleaming with sweat, blood, and suppressed power.

 “Can’t wait to see you try,” he replied, sweeping through the door and out of Stanford’s office, a violent grin stretched wide from canine to canine.

 Truly, he couldn’t wait.