I'm in quite a few fandoms, but aren't we all? These are the fandoms I'm currently fiendin' for and their subsequent ships. If you don't see one that you'd like, feel free to ask anyway. I'm not picky, just like writing. If you see a ship you despise, well, don't be mean. 😅
I'm willing to do smut, fluff, angst...whatever you wanna throw at me. I'm more familiar with long form writing, but I'll do drabbles and headcanons and such, too.
Asks are open, so go crazy!
Oh, and one more thing before we get to the list, if you're a minor, please don't interact with my page. I obviously can't stop you from accessing my content, but, this is not going to be a family-friendly space, so just bear that in mind.
Anyway, without further ado...
FANDOMS
Mystic Messenger
Baldur's Gate 3
Sanders Sides
STANDALONE CHARACTERS
Kylo Ren
The Mandalorian
Ghostface
SHIPS
Jumin Han/Jihyun Kim (V)
707/Yoosung
Hyun Ryu (Zen)/Jumin Han
Poolverine
Any and all Sanders Sides ships
I'll also do X Reader content for anything you see up there.
Hopefully this is coherent. I'll keep the lists updated pretty frequently, but I wanted to start small.
Check out my Ao3 as well! There are FAR too many WIPs posted there, but, slow as I am, they WILL be updated.
Thanks for getting through this long post, and hopefully you'll enjoy what I have to offer!
there's a dark timeline out there where tumblr fanfic writers are considered influencers and get sponsorships, and during kinktober, the horniest fanfics drop and all your fave bloggers are doing "day 1 - toys" and they're including a paragraph that loosely goes something like
Just poking some feelers out here! I started writing this way back during my Baldur's Gate phase, but I'm gettin' the itch again!
This is an OC (original character) fic, using my Tav/DnD character, Nyx! It can be read from an X reader point of view if you'd like, as it's in the first person, but it is my own character.
With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy! Please reblog, but don't repost!
Triggers: Cazador is mentioned briefly with canon typical context. You can skip this part, it begins at "I wake," and ends at, "'To my chambers.'" Other triggers includ canon typical violence and coarse language throughout.
The tavern bustles with patrons from all walks of life. I try to shove out the reek of stale bodies and ale, staring into the bottom of my tankard. My search hadn’t proven fruitful today, adding to the bulk of my worries and stress. Perhaps the ale will take the edge off. I’m secluded into a dark corner of the tavern, sitting alone at a table meant for two. It’s almost poetic.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up through my hood, laying eyes on the speaker. He was…beautiful, to put it simply. Far from the first good-looking man to sit across from me in a tavern when I’d rather be alone, but none of them had been pretty little moon elves like this one. I shrug, waving my arm in front of me.
“By all means,” I reply.
He takes his seat, nodding his thanks. I take note of his clothing almost immediately. Far too fine to be frequenting the commoners’ taverns. He has an angle here. I smirk. Perhaps I can play with him a bit.
“Thank you, darling, my feet were absolutely aching,” he says with a smile. “May I have your name?”
I chuckle. In a world of fantastic creatures, you learn to pay attention to the wording of questioning rather than the question itself. “Faerie?”
He looks taken aback before he erupts with a laugh. “No, no. Though I must applaud your observational expertise. My name is Astarion, if that helps you to be comfortable.”
“Nyx,” I reply before taking a drink of my ale.
“How exotic, meaning night, correct?” His smile is far too rehearsed. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And where, pray tell, are you from?”
“Sanjioux. A small tiefling village far, far south from here.” Taking another drink, I add, “Most likely a pile of smoldering ash and cinders, now.”
“Tiefling, you say?”
“What, do the horns and tail not give it away?” The latter swishes behind me as if to announce its existence.
He laughs again, though I hear no real joy in it. A perfect puppet, rehearsing lines as if he were on a stage. I almost pity him, but naturally I keep that off of my face.
“I can’t imagine there are many of you running around Baldur’s Gate,” he observes, “Are you a local?”
“Gods, no,” I snort. “Just passing through. I have…family nearby.” Not entirely a lie, though it burns coming off my tongue.
“Interesting,” Astarion purrs. “I haven’t met many tieflings in my travels, especially none as stunning as yourself.”
There it is. Grinning coyly, I say, “Flattery doesn't work on me, little star.”
His eyes widen and another smooth, practiced smirk crosses his face. “My, my, seems I'm not the only good study at this table.” He leans forward, and I feel the gentle brush of his fingers against my knee.
Bristling at the contact, I give a wicked grin, showing off my fangs, and take his chin in my hand. I dig my claws in enough to leave indents, my other hand moving to unclasp the sheath of my dagger.
“Would you kindly remove your fingers from my leg before I cut them off?” I ask, voice sweet as honey.
I let myself finally stare into his eyes. They're…well, they're beautiful. I've never seen such a shade of crimson. He may be the perfect puppet to whoever holds his leash, but his eyes give everything away. I watch surprise and a hint of admiration pass through them before he chuckles and I feel his fingers move away.
“Now, now, let's not be hasty.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
I give a soft tut, releasing his chin, and lean back in my seat with a smirk of my own. “You're absolutely right, Astarion.” The name rolls off my tongue in a purr. “Let's not be hasty. You'll have to try harder than that if you hope to bed me. That is your goal, isn't it?”
Once again, his eyes reveal everything. The hint of wariness that comes with being caught. Admiration once more.
“Well, naturally. How could I have passed up an opportunity with such a beautiful little damsel?”
I laugh. “I told you, little star, flattery doesn't work on me.” I pick up my tankard, frowning as I realize it's empty. “How about you begin by buying this ‘little damsel’ a drink?”
The wide-eyed blink of surprise seems to be common for him. But I watch him huff a laugh and gesture for the innkeep. I watch the innkeep make his way over, his smile quickly souring.
“Good sir, I would like to purchase this fine lady a drink,” Astarion says cheerfully, gesturing to me.
“‘Fine lady'? Pah,” the innkeep spits. “We don't serve the likes of that one. Where'd you get that drink, Infernal?”
My eyes narrow. “I bought it like every other patron in this tavern.”
I swear I watch him snarl, his face pinching into such an ugly expression I have to suppress a laugh. “My tavern knows who to serve. You stole that drink, and we don't serve thieves.”
I flick my eyes to Astarion, subtly raising a brow. Now is his chance to impress, and I make it known. A devilish grin spreads across his face, his first true smile since he sat down. It's when I notice the fangs that I tense, my lips pulling down into a deep frown. Moon elves didn't have…
I subtly look down as Astarion tries to charm his way into a drink. No tail, and no horns, so he's not a tiefling…That only leaves a few options. Perhaps a shapeshifter, but…Odd they'd forget about their fangs.
My thoughts are interrupted when a drink is all but slammed in front of me, the innkeep red-faced and grumbling to himself. I give a smug look, giving no indication to my lack of attention, as he walks away. Astarion seems proud of himself, giving a gesture for me to drink.
“Impressive,” I praise, taking a swig.
“You’ve no idea what I did, do you?” he asks, raising his own cup to his lips. “You appeared to be eyeing my dashing smile.”
I struggle to keep my drink in my mouth, choking at his words. My face heats in the telltale sign of a blush and I avert my eyes. The way his chuckle skitters down my spine shoots a rush of irritation through my blood.
“I don’t blame you,” he continues, “I’m simply irresistible.”
“Moon elves don’t have fangs last I checked,” I grumble. “No horns sprouting from your head or tail flicking behind you, so you aren’t a tiefling. Shapeshifters are smart enough to remember to conceal theirs. You’re too pretty to be an orc–” I glower as his grin turns back to mischievous, “--skin too lacking in fur to be a tabaxi. What are you?”
“Can’t a man have secrets?” he huffs–no, almost whines. “Perhaps I had a druid spruce my appearance up a bit. No harm there.”
I study him intensely, marking the way he seems to tense and his eyes refuse to meet mine. I scrutinize his every feature, catching the way his cheeks dust with pink. My eyes travel lower, to his neck, and–
I hiss, every hair on my body standing on end. I quickly unclasp my dagger, twirling it in my palm and pressing the tip of its incredibly sharp blade to his thigh. I hear his wince and watch his eyes erupt with shock, the telltale sign of a cover blown.
“Vampire,” I snarl.
“Spawn, actually,” he replies, voice impressively steady.
“Little difference.” I apply a bit more pressure with my dagger under the table, watching his face twitch with pain.
“Quite the observer.” To his credit, he takes another calm, collected drink. “Typically my conquests don't find out until after I've taken a nibble.”
I let myself all but drive my blade into him, feeling his skin give way and hearing him choke down a yelp. “Tell me why I shouldn't drive this through your heart this instant.”
“Well,” he begins, teeth clenched. “For starters, think of the mess. The innkeep merely needs one proper reason to call the city guard on you. A slaughter seems the perfect one.”
“You talk far too much.” But he's technically correct. Though if I announced to the whole tavern what exactly he was, perhaps I'd get a pass. “And what exactly is your real end goal, little star?”
“Can’t a man have some secrets?” he repeats.
He has to be a million kinds of stupid to be talking like that with a dagger pressed against him and a royally pissed tiefling at his throat. Or, more likely, he’s well protected by whoever holds his leash. With a growl, I withdraw my dagger, pointedly giving the drip of blood down its blade a grin. The warning was clear.
“That hurt,” he whines.
“It was supposed to.” I take my things and move to stand. “Best of luck to you on your next ‘conquest.’ I’ll have no part in it.”
I’ll have to continue my search in another tavern, far, far away from the spawn and his ilk. Vampires were not to be trifled with, even if he was a simple spawn. I can’t afford to die, not when I’m so close to my goal. I throw a piece of gold at the still angry innkeep, pulling the tavern’s door closed on the way out with my tail.
Baldur’s Gate was just as busy as ever, even with the cover of night. Many shops remain open at this hour, some of them even swapping their merchandise to more scandalous selections. I pass one such shop, smirking at the barely clothed mannequin. Even with little time for such endeavors, I can’t help but swing in and purchase a set of the lingerie. The shopkeep gives me a look, even going so far as to whisper a question about whether it would work around my tail, but I give her a laugh and assure her I can make it work. A girl can’t help but be drawn to such pretty things, can she?
As I exit the shop, searching for inns to hole up in until tomorrow, I run directly back into Astarion. Every hair on my body bristles, my hand finding my dagger once more.
“I told you I wanted no part in your–Are you following me?” I accuse, tail swishing wildly behind me.
In fairness, he has the wits about him to look surprised. His eyes hold a different emotion this time, much hollower than before. He tries to cover it with another too-practiced smirk. “Of course not. I needed to pay this wonderful little shop a visit.”
My brows furrow, not buying it for a moment. What in the hells is going through his mind that makes his eyes look so incredibly…sad?
“Don’t give me that look, darling. You are certainly not the first to reject my…Well, actually–”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I straighten, forcing my gaze into a glare. “What could you possibly want in a shop like this?”
“The same as you, if the small bag clutched behind your back is any indication.” My face flames as his gaze turns predatory, having the gall to run his tongue over a fang. “Buying that for me, were you?”
I give a smirk, my tail wrapping around his ankle and pulling. As he falls on his ass, I turn on my heel and walk away. I feel an ice cold hand wrap around my tail, pulling a full-on yelp from me as it pulls hard enough to almost hurt. Astarion is standing, brushing dirt from his clothes and mirroring the smirk I had given him before. My face burns hotter as I extend my middle finger and start to walk away again.
The first inn on my path seems cozy enough, so I turn in and purchase a room. The bed is decent enough, though anything is better than the bedroll secured on my pack. Certainly not built for a tiefling, though few are. I’m still shaken from the look in Astarion’s eyes as I pull the blankets up around myself. I’ve just met him, and would rather not interact with him again, but…he looked so hollow. Haunted by something that I couldn’t place.
I try to shrug it off, pulling out the necklace around my neck. A gift from a long ago adventure, surrounded by people I hadn’t heard from in years. The large, dark-colored gem shimmers in the candlelight. Staring into the gem, I sigh gently. Clearing my mind, I let my eyes slip closed, trying to think of one name, one person, the person I’m so desperately searching for…
I wake, taking a look at my surroundings. An elaborate palace, portraits of a man I didn’t recognize, and a distinct lack of warmth. Through a body not my own, I walk through the halls, eyes darting around. I try to take in all the details, burning them into my memory, as I’ve done so many times before. This looks nothing like times past, but perhaps he’s moved locations. I walk through a large set of doors, opening to a throne room. Many people, all miserable, weak, and pale, move throughout the room. The man perched on the throne sends a shiver through me, and the vessel I’m watching from tenses in dread.
“Astarion,” the man says lazily, and I start. That’s not who I– “Empty-handed, pet?”
Astarion, apparently, tenses further. I can feel every emotion running through his body at once. Dread, nausea, hatred…It’s all so intense I can barely hold onto the vision. “Y-Yes, Cazador, but—”
Cazador? Who in the hells is–”I do not take kindly to failure, spawn. This is unlike you. Perhaps discipline is in order. A reminder of who you belong to, who you are meant to obey.”
Astarion nods once, not daring to lift his eyes. I can feel his body trembling. What in the hells have I stumbled into? “Master, you don’t–There’s a tiefling I can bring to you, I just need more time–”
“Insolence is unbecoming of you. To my chambers.”
I remove myself from the vision, blinking away the last of it. Holy gods. No wonder he was so eager to bed me. Or whatever else it was he planned on–Another good reason to stay far, far away from him. And, perhaps, out of Baldur’s Gate entirely. But that can wait until the morning.
I roll over, forcing myself to sleep, even though my entire body feels dirty.
When I wake next, it’s to the sounds of distant explosions and the entire inn shaking. I jump out of bed, body protesting, just as the roof comes crashing down around me. My eyes squint against the harsh light coming from above. I feel something wrap around my waist, something warm and repulsively smooth, and pull, jerking me into the air. I protest, gritting my teeth and pushing with all my might against what holds me, clawing and thrashing, but it’s simply no use. I’m lifted into a large ship, something in the air sending me back into the hold of unconsciousness.
My eyes crack open again. As my body begins to wake, I can feel myself trapped in a very tight and enclosed space. I move my head around, trying to shake the hold of sleep from my muddled senses, and I hear something open. My head is forced to still, eyes facing forward. Every hair on my body stands on end, my blood turning to ice, as I behold an actual Mindflayer in front of me. I can’t speak, can’t protest, can’t move as I watch it bring a wriggling little creature to my eye. Before I can even realize what’s happened, the wriggly little thing has crawled into my eye, settling in my brain. I can feel it, and it almost makes me sick. It shifts, sending me back into inky nothingness.
The next and final time I wake, I must have been out for hours. Laying on a beach, I’m surrounded by the smoldering wreckage of the ship I had just been on, the pod I must have been trapped in broken to my left. I try to stand, my legs giving out on me and my parasite screaming in protest at something I can’t identify. Disoriented and nauseous, I bring my knees under me and slowly bring myself back to my feet. The sun is far too bright, my head pounding at whatever the little parasite is pointing out. A quick patdown reveals that the Mindflayers hadn’t taken any of my weapons. Thank the gods. I press a hand to my throat, visibly relaxing when I feel the necklace still there.
I suppose the first step is figuring out where I am, along with finding any other survivors. As I decide on this, the parasite seems to calm, and I can finally hear myself think again. I set off towards other scattered parts of wreckage, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of movement. I come to a small clearing, not having found anyone else yet, and take a moment to breathe. I haven’t stopped moving for more than a second when I’m tackled to the ground, a dagger at my throat.
“You,” my attacker hisses. “You were working for Mindflayers?”
I try to reach my dagger, to roll away, but in this position I’m completely at his mercy. He’s pressed into my back, arm wrapped around to keep the dagger pointed at my throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I snarl, trying to get my legs under me.
In a flash, my parasite begins squirming and screaming again, causing any hope of moving to retreat. Thankfully, it appears my attacker hears it too, and he rolls off me with a shout. I blink, and I’m transported back to Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by nobles and laughter, a shadow lurking in the corner of my vision as I take hold of someone’s hand, leading them to a secluded corner…
I’m very suddenly back in my own body, the shift so jarring I almost vomit. I choke it down, turning my eyes to my new pal.
“Astarion?”
“Yes, yes, no need to shout,” he hisses, still clutching his head. His eyes shift to mine, and I get a hint of pity in his gaze. It burns me up from the inside.
“What did you see?” I demand, taking a wobbly step toward him. “Because I saw enough to–”
“Can you ever just relax?” He finally stops cradling his head, but his eyes still hold that awful, awful pity. “What happened? How did I see anything at all? What did I see?”
I laugh, the shock of the situation finally getting to me. I throw wild arms to my sides, gesturing to the absolute disaster spreading along the beach. “Well, Astarion, it seems I was abducted by Mindflayers, given a little parasite, and now I’ve crash landed on a beach with a fucking vampire spawn! That’s about all I’ve got!”
“You were abducted as well?”
“Wha–Yes, you absolute dolt! What, you thought I’d just walk right onto their ship and present myself with a, ‘Oh, please, Mr. Mindflayer Sir, plant a wriggly little worm into my eye socket! I just get so absolutely hot and heavy for it!’?” I pause, catching those final two words. “You too?”
“Stolen away like a kiss in the night, I’m afraid, and it appears as though we were both given the same ‘gift’.”
As if understanding we were talking about it, my parasite wriggles once more. I hate how it feels, how it seems to burrow further and further into my mind until it permeates every part of my being. Thankfully, it seems the vampire is just as affected. Almost as if our parasites were calling out to each other.
“Well that’s fun,” Astarion grumbles. “Seems we’re in this together, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, believe me, nothing brings me more joy than being chained to a vampire spawn–Actually, how in the hells are you walking in the sun?”
He blinks at my question, as if he hadn’t realized that he was, in fact, in the sunlight, and not a pile of ashes. I gather he’s just as confused as I am. I shake my head with a growl, finally standing to my feet. “Do we bother looking for more survivors?”
As if in answer to my question, I hear another man’s voice in the distance. I begin moving that way before I can really think to drag Astarion along, and he reminds me by grabbing my tail and stopping me in my tracks. I whirl on him, my fangs bared, as I jerk my tail out of his grasp.
“Touch my tail again and I’ll eviscerate you,” I snarl.
The tut of his tongue makes me want to claw it out of his mouth, but I refrain. “Suppose we do find that suspicious man in the distance…What’s the plan? Gather up a ragtag army of infected and take the Sword Coast by storm?”
I huff, crossing my arms. “Well, if there are survivors, we should group together and look for a cure, right? Strength in numbers and all that.”
He seems content with that answer and gives a shrug. Taking his silence as dismissal, we head off in the direction of the man’s voice together.
“Why so touchy about your tail?” he asks suddenly, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“It’d be like…Hm. Your ears,” I supply, hoping he gets the point.
Unfortunately, his wicked grin tells me he absolutely did, and would be finding many, many ways to use that information. I almost want to stake him for it. His predatory eyes remind me of what I saw before this whole incident, how he talked about me as if I were a pig being led to the butcher. It makes me want to stake him more, but…Feeling everything he did in that moment, I keep that to myself.
“Since we’re on the topic of personal questions, who’s Cazador?”
He freezes, his face twisting into something I can't quite place. I almost regret the question as I slow my pace and stop myself.
“Seriously?” he asks, almost in disbelief. “Cazador Szarr?”
I shake my head.
“I suppose not being native to Baldur's Gate would leave you ignorant to the nobility.” He spits the last word with a grimace. “How did you–”
Before I can think, he has me on my back again, dagger out before I even see him move. I yelp, head smacking against a rock hard enough to make my teeth sing. As my vision comes back into focus, I can feel the tip of Astarion's dagger pressed into my jaw, enough to draw a bead of blood. I try to ignore the look of pure hunger in his face.
“If you don't know who he is, how do you know his name?” he seethes. “Did you follow me last night? Peek into my mind when we had our little tadpole touch?”
I try to push him off, but my swimming vision and the feeling of the ground falling from under me render me practically useless.
“Answer me if you don't intend to be a corpse,” he purrs, pressing the dagger further.
“Get off of me,” I slur, weakly pushing at him again, “and I can explain.”
His chuckle skitters down my spine. “What a poor attempt at fooling me.”
“Necklace,” I say, sluggishly moving my arm to my chest. “Magic necklace. Get off.”
Astarion's brow quirks at that, and he leans back onto his heels, allowing me to sit up but not getting off of me entirely. I pull the piece of jewelry from my shirt, flashing him the gem. I take a deep breath as the world continues to spin, trying to piece together just how much I want to say.
“A few years ago, I got this necklace while traveling with a group of adventurers. It lets me go to sleep while picturing someone in my mind, and allows me to see, hear, and feel whatever they do for a brief moment.” I wet my lips before continuing. My vision stops spinning, thank the gods, but I still feel the telltale ache of a concussion. “Last night, I must have been thinking of you, so…That's who I saw.”
His eyes narrow again. “What did you see?” he hisses, though out of fury or fear, I can't quite tell.
I swallow thickly. “I assume this Cazador's castle, heard him talking about insolence, felt your dread…And I remember something about a tiefling you planned to bring to him.” I glare at that last bit
“Was that all?” His voice is thick, but he masks it well.
“I withdrew myself when he ordered you to his chambers,” I mumble, tucking the jewelry back under my shirt. “Is that why you were at that shop?”
“That is none of your business,” he spits, standing. “And I'm flattered that you thought of me, but with that thing around your neck, best to keep me out of your mind. As a matter of fact, maybe you should keep me out altogether.” His gaze is hard as he faces me again. “One more thing. Keep your knowledge of my condition to yourself or I may find out just how hot Infernal blood runs.”
“What did you see?” I blurt. “When we–The tadpole thing.”
For a moment, I almost don't think he's going to tell me. He looks confused at the question, almost insulted that I'd even ask. But he sighs, dropping his shoulders and throwing back his head like a child, and I smirk.
“Well, it was hard to tell, really,” he begins, his hands moving as he speaks. “Fire, smoke, screams, a looming shadow…I heard your name, but the connection dropped.”
“I see.”
“That's all? No explanation?” He tuts, shaking his head. “You're incredibly boring.”
And with that, we set back towards the voice from earlier.
Part 1 Here!
Pairing: Doomed Polycule? I think?
Word Count: 948
Warnings: Bill is once again a little shit, don't assume this is healthy yet. Otherwise, none!
hi hello we're back with this again. i have some ideas for this still but im not sure how to implement them all. anywho...enjoy!
Fiddleford was ready to wake up. As he clung to the wall behind him, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Bill in the flesh. Or at least in the…whatever he was made of. The demon's eye pierced his own, sending a bolt of anxiety through the engineer.
“Specs! Good to finally meet you, eh?” Bill said, holding out his hand and closing his eye in a smile.
Fidds could only nod, sliding down the cabin wall.
“I hear you wanna talk! Name's Bill, though you seem to already know that.” When Fidds didn't shake his hand, he brought it back with a shrug. “And you're Fiddlesticks! Gotta say, for a hick, you seem to have a pretty nice mindscape in here. But maybe that's because you've used the old memory gun a few too many times.”
“You know about the gun?” Fidds asked, voice cracking.
“Of course I know about the gun!” Bill laughed, suddenly approaching Fidds’ face. “And I know about your wife, and about your desperation for my Fordsy.”
“My–”
“Oh, don't play dumb with me, Specs, you gave him googly eyes before you left the basement. And it's almost like, and I'm spitballing here, I'm in your head.”
Fidds’ face flushed red as he turned away. “This isn’t fair, Bill. I’m tryin’ to have a civil conversation.”
Bill blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Civil? Where Fordsy is concerned? Never.”
“So you two are…Not important. Not…yeah.” Fidds sighed, bringing a hand to his face. “Look, you’re a little intimidatin’, but if you’re makin’ him happy, then I can’t complain. Just try to be mindful of ‘im. And, well, I think you and I should at least try to play nice since we both clearly care for ‘im.”
“Hm, asking something of me without giving me something in return…Not my style, Specs.” The demon tapped a finger to where his mouth would have been if he had one. Did…he have one? “Though, I do love a good deal. How ‘bout we make one?”
Fidds shook his head vigorously. “Mama raised a godly boy, and while that may be different now, I know better than to meddle in devilish voodoo.” He shuddered with a grimace. “This dream's plenty proof for me that you exist.”
Bill twirled his cane, a hand behind his head. “Fordsy likes you too, y'know.”
“Not my business. He's got his love life, I've got mine. No need to–What?”
With a laugh the demon swam in front of the engineer, his chin resting on folded hands and legs kicking behind him. “I couldn't give less of a damn if you like him, Fiddlesticks. I care because he always gets so prickly when his little hillbilly's involved. You're a smart one, but nothing like my Sixer.” His large eye inched ever closer towards Fidds. “Which makes me curious. Why does the greatest mind across every dimension care about someone as mediocre as you, when he has a god that cares about him and can boost his potential?”
“I couldn’t tell you.” The sting of those words hurt more than Fidds wanted to admit. “But I know a gamble when I see one, and I'm starin’ one head on. What is he gettin’ out of this?”
“Power beyond any mortal mind's comprehension, an expanding kingdom to rule and study as he sees fit, a life with his Muse…” The demon tapped his fingers in a counting motion. “What else could my Fordsy want? Certainly nothing you could provide.”
“Ford's not interested in power,” Fidds spat.
“Oh-ho, boy are you wrong!” Bill laughed. “All humans want power!”
“I don't–”
“Hold on, hold on, get your suspenders out of that knot! Power manifests in different ways, Fiddlesticks.” The demon jabbed a finger towards the man's glasses. “But we're getting off topic…Here's the deal. I can't physically enter your realm unless that portal's finished.”
“Good,” the engineer growled. “I don't want you anywhere near this place.”
“I mean no harm, of course, and even if I did, Ford's willing to help me. My offer to you is if you let me drive this bad boy around every once in a while, I can make sure we both get a piece of our favorite scientist.”
Fidds’ face twisted in disgust, shaking his head again. “Ford would never. And you’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’d let you use me to keep twistin’ his brain every which way.”
Bill shrugged. “Your loss, Fiddlesticks, but the offer’s always on the table! Anywho, time for me to go! Nothing matters, buy gold, bye–”
“Now hold your horses!” At Bill’s slow blink, Fidds continued. “That’s all? You come into my head, ruin my night, and-and you’re just gonna leave? I haven’t gotten a single word in! What do you really want with Ford?”
“I just told you, Specs, keep up!”
Fidds finally stood, shoving a finger in the demon’s face. “I ain’t stupid, Billy, you know exactly what I’m askin’ you!”
“And I ain’t tellin’ you!” Bill’s accent was a mockery, fueling Fidds’ bubbling rage.
“Fine then! But if you hurt him, there ain’t nothin’ in any dimension that can stop me from tearing those stupid little limbs off your stupid yellow body and feeding them to you one by one.”
“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Fiddlesticks!” Bill patted Fidds’ head condescendingly. “You’re fun! I’ll be here more often, I think. Bye!”
As the demon disappeared, Fidds woke up with a start. He slammed a fist against his mattress and stood. Pacing the floor, he muttered to himself before sitting at his desk and drawing up blueprints for an inter-dimensional death ray that aimed only at yellow triangles.
